The Way We Loved Read online

  “Can we stop by there?” Tears stream down my cheeks, but I’m not sad. Overwhelmed, maybe. Astonished, for sure, but not sad.

  Beau doesn’t answer, but when we come to the fork, instead of going right and taking me to his place, he turns left. I hold my breath when he turns into the drive and as we pass the rows of weeping willows. It’s not until the front porch comes into view that I release it. I’m not sure what I expected, but the perfectly manicured yard and fresh paint on the doors and shutters wasn’t it.

  Beau stops the truck at the end of the drive and waits next to me until I gain enough courage to step out of the truck. We walk side by side up the steps I sat on as a child, coloring or playing pretend with my Barbie and Ken, past the rocker my mother drank her coffee from every morning, to the front door. I lift the pot next to the door and find a spare key, the same place my mom left it. When I push it into the door, it turns with the ease of a well-lubricated lock. The door swings open, and I’m flooded by memories of my childhood home. It smells of cedar and honeysuckles and a hint of lemon, the same kind you would smell in a can of furniture polish. I step through the door, beau by my side, and turn on lights as I make my way through the house.

  Calvin hasn’t touched or moved anything. It looks exactly the same as it did the day I left, but it’s clean, just the way Beau said it would be. I stop in the hall and look at all the pictures hung there, pictures dating back to a time before I knew what cancer was and that I should be afraid. Back to a time when the only thing I cared about was the pink ribbon at the end of my braids. At the end of the long hall is a closed door that leads to my mother’s room. I twist the knob and push the door open and then close it back behind me. For eleven years, I have been running from memories of her, both good and bad, because they hurt equally.

  I’ve quit running now.

  When I sit on the blue and red quilt laying across her bed, I can almost imagine her there next to me, singing softly in the background or twisting the hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear the way she always did. She’s gone and she’s never coming back, but I’ve been doing her a disservice by trying to pretend she never existed. It may have hurt less at the time, but I also lost a piece of who I am at my very core. Tricia Smith raised me to be a strong, independent woman, to care for others and never turn my back on a friend. She made me the person I am today, and I walked away from her.

  I vow from that moment forward not to push the thought or memory of her away ever again. I will endure the sting of pain and rejoice in the joyful bliss. When I step out of the room, I take a detour to the bathroom and splash cool water on my face before finding Beau again.

  “I can’t believe he did this.”

  “Can’t you though? It’s Cal. He knew you would need this one day. Neither of us knew when, but it was bound to happen at some point. You can’t run from the past forever, Buttercup.”

  I lean into his arms and soak in the warmth of his embrace. “I love you, asshole. Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Right back at ya, champ. Now, can we get home before Cal hunts me down for keeping you away?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  I don’t know what I will do with the house or all the belongings in it, but when I lock the door behind us, I know I’ll be back, and this time, eleven years won’t pass before I return. This place is as much a piece of me as my mother. The thought of ever losing it doesn’t sit well, but at the same time, I don’t know if I would be able to mentally handle living here every day. I make a mental note to check into possibly renting the place out after I finish going through all of our belongings. Maybe.

  Calvin is waiting outside when we pull up with a blindfold and my camera. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t leap at the sight of him. When the truck rolls to a stop I climb out and run to him, jumping into his arms. He stumbles back a few steps to keep from falling over.

  “Thank you.” My lips press to his. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Every time I kiss him, I thank him again. It will never be enough, and I know that, but I want to show him how much I appreciate what he’s done for me and my mother, even if she isn’t here to thank him herself.

  “We stopped by Tricia’s” Beau says by way of explanation and Cal nods in understanding. When I feel I’ve covered his face in enough kisses, I wiggle and make him set me down.

  “I should have told you already.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s perfect.”

  “Come on. I had a surprise planned for you.”

  “Another one? I don’t know if my heart can handle anything else today.”

  “Trust me?” he asks and holds up the blindfold. Tingling sparks of excitement zing straight to the apex of my thighs. I’ve never been into the kinkier side of sex, but after today, I’m willing to do whatever he asks of me.

  My face must give away my thoughts. “Not that, my little vixen. The blindfold is for the surprise.”

  “Perv," Beau calls, jumping back into his truck, and I blush. Of course, he wouldn’t be offering that, especially not in front of Beau. What was I thinking?

  “Maybe later,” Cal whispers in my ear before sliding his arms behind my legs and sweeping me off my feet. “The surprise is at my house.”

  “Is it a pony? Oh, Daddy, I’ve always wanted a real pony!” My attempt to hide my embarrassment has always been to joke and use sarcasm, and this time is no different.

  “Shut up.” Cal drops me at the passenger side of his truck and then leaves me to climb in on my own.

  “Humph. I guess chivalry really is dead.”

  “I heard that.”

  I stick out my tongue. “I meant for you to.”

  Before we pull into Calvin’s drive, he stops the truck on the side of the road and makes me face toward the window so he can tie the blindfold around my eyes. I hate surprises. Like I really, really hate surprises. I never react the way it’s expected, so I end up thinking about how I’m supposed to react so much that when the surprise is unveiled, I forget to react at all.

  At least this time, I don’t know days in advance, so I have very little time to psych myself out of it. It’s strange to feel the truck glide along the gravel drive and hear the crunch but not see it. It opens my senses to other things as well, for instance, the intoxicating scent of Cal. He smells of horses and wood shavings mixed with the light fragrance of his morning aftershave.

  When he reaches out and touches me, I yelp and jump in my seat, not expecting it, and he laughs. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Just caught me by surprise. Get it? Ha-ha.”

  “I’m going to walk around and open your door, Miss Chivalry is Dead, unless you think you can make it across the yard on your own.”

  “Don’t be a dick. Obviously, I want you to carry me the whole way. What kind of gal do you take me for?”

  He doesn’t reply, and before I know what’s happening, my door is pulled open and he’s tossed me over his shoulder.

  “Calvin Hunt. I’m going to kick your ass for this. Put. Me. Down.”

  I hear the snicker of someone else, and my cheeks redden, knowing others are around to see him carry me like a sack of potatoes. I will pay him back for this.

  “I’m going to take off the blindfold now. Are you ready?”

  I nod my head, and he sets me back on my own two feet, turning my body in the direction he wants me to face, and then he pulls the covering from my eyes. I’m staring at a row of cars in the driveway and Cal, who is standing in front of me. He smiles and grabs my shoulders, spinning me around. My hand rises, covering the silent O on my lips.

  It’s beautiful.

  “I wanted you to have a space just for you,” he says, watching me and waiting for my reaction. His mom and Beau are standing to the side, waiting for me with smiles matching the one I know I should be making, but I can’t.

  I cant handle this man. He is too good to me. Or at least that’s how it feels, but when you go through life only loving yourself a little, like say,
twenty percent, when someone comes along and loves you a little more, you think you’ve won the lottery, but in fact, they aren’t loving you right either.

  It’s not until you find the courage to love yourself at the fullest, one hundred percent, that you see you’ve been cheated, and then when someone comes along and loves you more, that is when you’ve reached the jackpot. Calvin loves me more. And he shows me that every single day.

  I turn to him and pull him to me and bury my face in his chest. And then I break. The tears that come are months, years of suppressed pain and joy and longing all rolled into a sob that shakes the ground I’m standing on. He wraps his arms around me and smooths the hair down my back while murmuring nonsense in my ear. Nothing else exists outside of us, here and now. Not the building he transformed into a magical oasis, not our friends and family, not a single thing.

  I cry for minutes, hours, seconds, until the bank of tears dries up and the well of overwhelming emotion passes. When I peel myself from his chest and look around, everyone else is gone. I almost feel bad, but I like the idea of seeing what they did without an audience.

  “Show me?”

  “Right this way, beautiful.”

  The first thing I notice is the floor to ceiling windowpanes that span the length of the eastern wall. My pulse skips a beat when I imagine the lighting coming in there first thing in the morning. I take my time exploring every nook and cranny. When I stumble across something new, Cal explains his reasoning for it and what he hoped I would use it for, like the blacked-out room in the far back corner.

  It’s easily the most perfect present he could have ever given me. Slowly, the others creep back inside, and I hug each one of them and thank them for the amazing gift. It’s been years since someone did anything for me just because and didn’t expect something in return for it. In retrospect, I now want to do something equally inspiring for each of them. It’s funny how the gift of giving ignites that passion in others.

  33

  #stopthetears

  Calvin

  Fucking hell.

  When Blake broke down, I nearly lost it. It took everything in me to stand there and hold her while she unloaded her soul into my shirt. I hated the idea that she was in pain of any kind, much less the type of pain that would cause the shaking sobs that erupted from her. As soon as she started crying, I waved the others away, wanting to give her as much privacy as I could in that moment. It wasn’t much, but it’s all I had to offer.

  Seeing her smile now almost erases the memory of her clinging to me like a lifeline. Almost, but not quite. She moves through the building, taking in every detail with an artist’s mind and with the joy of a child on Christmas morning. This is the reaction I had hoped for when I planned the surprise unveiling.

  Beau steps closer to me, leaving Mom in the room with Blake. “She’s been through hell, man.”

  “I know. It fucking kills me.”

  “Me too. But she’s home now.”

  I choke my own tears back when he says that, not wanting to give her any reason to worry. Beau slaps me on the back, and the sting is the extra push I need to shove them back down.

  “I’ll take care of her.”

  “We will. She might be the love of your life, but she’s like a sister to me.”

  “I know, and you’re right. We will.”

  “I’m gonna head up to the house and light the grill. Did you marinate the meat?”

  “Yeah, I put it in the fridge so Neo wouldn’t take it off the counter. Mom brought a few sides, and some of her famous peach cobbler, too.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus. I can’t promise that will be there when y’all make it up.”

  “It had better be, or Blake will be kicking your ass. You know how she loves it.”

  “I might save her a small bowl.”

  I chuckle, imagining Blake’s reaction to a small bowl of peach cobbler. Neither of us would live through the night.

  “We’ll be up soon.”

  Beau salutes and then turns on his heel and walks out. I take a seat on the couch Janie and Mom picked out earlier today and wait for the ladies to finish oohing and ahhing over everything in the building.

  I’m about to doze off when Blake sits on my lap, and then all thoughts of sleep evaporate like the morning dew. She drapes her arms around my neck and leans in close.

  “I guess I’ll let you slide for carrying me like a sack of potatoes earlier.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. I mean, you did put in a lot of work here. It’s the least I can do.”

  I stand lightning-quick and sling her back over my shoulder.

  “Calvin!” she yells, and I slap her on the ass.

  “You were saying?”

  “I swear to God, I am going to kick your ass for this.” I spin and dump her on the couch and then dart through the front door. “Gotta catch me first.”

  The sound of her feet slapping the ground behind me pushes me to go faster. I haven’t run like this in I don’t know how long, and I’m winded before I ever reach the house, but I keep going, knowing she’s right on my heels. Just before I reach the safety of the porch, she jumps on my back and propels us both to the ground. I take the brunt of the impact and then roll her off my back and sit across her legs.

  “That was a cheap shot, missy.” My fingers dig into her sides, tickling up and down her rib cage. She squirms, laughing.

  “Stop. Stop. Stop. I take it back.”

  “What do you say?”

  When we were younger, I would hold her down the same way, tickling her until she would scream, “Uncle. Uncle!” Neo makes his way outside to see what all the fuss is about, and when he finds us on the ground, he attacks Blake’s face with his tongue.

  “Oh, Neo. Gross,” Blake says, wiping dog saliva from her cheek. When I stand, I pull her up with me, and after giving the dog some love, we join the others on the back deck.

  “You two done acting like kids? I could use a hand in the kitchen,” Mom says, shaking her head at us both, which in turn makes us both laugh.

  “I’ll help. Just let me wash up first,” Blake offers and then follows Mom inside, Neo chasing after her like a lovesick puppy.

  “Stay tonight?” I ask as soon as everyone else pulls out of the drive. Spending time with them as a family was nice, but I am beyond ready to have Blake to myself. It’s been five days since I’ve physically touched her, and being around her but not able to show her how much I missed her has been killing me.

  “I suppose I could stay . . . if you run me a hot bath and promise to massage my body later. With your mouth.”

  My cock jumps to attention before she even finishes speaking. I take a step closer to her and grab the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head without taking my eyes off hers. “Would you like that bath before or after?”

  “Both?” The simmering fire burning in her gaze is the only invitation I need. My clothes hit the floor the same time hers do, and we meet in a flash of heat. I push against her shoulder, spinning her. Her ass presses against my cock, and I guide it to her slick opening, sliding in with a single stroke.

  “Fuck.”

  She pushes back against me and wiggles her ass. My hands hold tight to her hips, and I slide out slowly, only to slam back into her.

  Over and over.

  Harder and harder.

  Until she shatters around me, screaming out my name in a hoarse, breathless cry of release. The feel of her walls contracting around me pushes me over the final edge, and I fall, my cock twitching and pulsing inside her. I lean over her, my stomach and chest lying across her back, her breasts shoved flat against the kitchen island until my breathing returns to normal and I’m not afraid I’ll fall on my ass.

  “Fucking hell, Blake.” I didn’t mean to take her in a fit of passion like a rutting buck. My plan was to make love to her, sweet and slow and filled with all the longing of the last few days. When she stands, she kisses me, her lips pressed to mine, her tongue seeking, searching, and
then teasing, until all self-doubt vanishes.

  “How about that bath now?”

  “I think I can handle that.” I take her hand and lead her to the bathroom. After running the hot water a few minutes, I plug the tub and adjust the temperature. “Climb in.”

  Once she settles in, I sprinkle some scented Epsom salt bath soap into the water since its all I’ve got, and then I nudge her forward and climb in behind her. The contented sigh that escapes her lips is all the thanks I need. I’ve spent the last eleven years missing her. I’ve tried and failed to date other people over the years, always finding something wrong with them, when in reality, there was nothing wrong. They just weren’t her. She was it for me. The first, the last, the only.

  The ring my mother gave me is stowed away in my sock drawer, but even from that distance, I can hear it calling my name. If it were up to me, I would ask her right here and now to be my wife, but part of loving someone is knowing what is best for them, and I know instinctively that she isn’t ready for that. She’s on her way, but marriage isn’t something you ask of another person until you’re both ready. If I asked her now, I would be no different from Brad, trying to tie her down so no one else could have her. And I’d rather be eaten alive by rats than be compared to that slimeball piece of shit.

  When the time is right, I’ll know. Then, and only then, I will ask her to marry me. And when she says yes, I’ll never let her go again.

  34

  #morningafter

  Blake

  My body is sore in all the right places. When I stretch my arms long, reaching for the ceiling muscle gives way, and the moan that slips from my lips is a testament of the night I had. The space next to me in the bed is empty and cold, but the sweet scent of sausage lets me know that Cal is still in the house. I roll on my side and open my phone, scrolling through notifications, and then I reply to the most important ones.