“I hear you,” I say, because I do understand that. “But all of this is unnecessary talk because I don’t like Clara June. I’m just helping Tanner out and, just, I don’t know, being a nice guy.”
West smirks. Jake takes a drink of his beer. And while they talk about pressure treated lumber for West’s new garage expansion, my phone pings.
On the screen is a text from a number new to my phone.
Unknown
Thank you so much for what you did tonight
I’ll be up for another two hours or so, if you still wanted to call
Yawning, I feign exhaustion, leave bills on the bar, and head out, phone in my hand.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
CLARA JUNE
I thinkI have whiplash from the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been riding tonight.
Earlier, I’d called Rawley to make sure he got dinner (ahem, freezer pizza) going for him and his brothers, and that Archie took a bath. He told me they were eating and I was surprised that Rawl didn't need to be reminded.Getting home, I found food in the fridge with my name on it—along with a note.
Clara June,
I’m sure the last thing you want to eat after a day at Goode’s is Goode’s, but I grabbed the boys their favorites—thanks for telling me—and got yours too. Hope the grilled cheese is still good reheated.
Dean
It was at that point my heart melted, the liquid remnants of it slipping through my insides, finally coming to pool in my groin. Unadulterated heat burned between my legs. Dean came over here to check on Tanner, as promised, and brought a meal. I pressed my hand to my heart right there in the kitchen with the fridge light illuminating my worn work sneakers, just to feel how hard it was pumping from excitement.
Now, staring at my uneaten grilled cheese and to-go container of tomato soup, it hits me.
Dean brought food because he came over to see Tanner.
Dean was in this house.
Deansawthe inside of this house.
Cue the horror.
I rush down the hall and push open Rawley’s door—which I don’t recommend because any time you open a teenager’s door without knocking you’re running the risk of walking in on something unseeable. “Coach McAllister came by?”
He pushes his Playstation headset off of one ear. “Yeah, hebrought food. Brought Tanner a jersey. Checked his homework and stuff.” His eyes never leave his screen. “One outside, one outside!” he grunts into his tiny microphone.
“Rawley, focus.” My heart is racing just imagining what he must think. This house looks like a bomb went off. No, it looks like a bomb went off, and inside that bomb was another one hundred small bombs that were full of stinky kid socks and popsicle wrappers, and those detonated, too. I was a little behind a few weeks ago, and had planned on catching up with the laundry and everything else. But then Tanner got hurt, and the car, and—I take a deep breath and exhale.
Dean is just Tanner’s coach. He’s nice. And he did a nice thing. But beyond that, I shouldn’t worry about him seeing our messy house. I snatch two bath towels off the ground in his room. “Did you keep Archie away from the washing machine?”
Unexpectedly, Rawley does a double take, and his attention remains on me as he pulls off his headset and swivels away from his desk to face me. “Actually, Coach McAllister fixed it while he was here.”
My heart leaps into my throat and for a moment, my vision blurs. “What?”
He nods, leaning back in his chair, propping two size ten feet onto the edge of his desk. “When he came over, it came up that it was broken and he offered to take a look at it. He actually showed me how to fix it, if Archie puts the wrong soap in it again.” Rawley wears a proud smile, a smile I haven't seen on him in a while. “It was cool learning how to fix it. It was cool he showed me.”
I just stare at my son, trying to process this new bit of information. “What?”
Rawley sinks forward, the legs of his chair hitting the ground with a thud, his feet, too. “You just said that.”
