Lance curses and is at his side in an instant, helping him up.
I feel the embarrassment, the tension, as Trevor looks on frozen, while Rip keeps picking his guitar. And then I’m on Jack’s other side as we secure him back in the recliner. Unable to handle another second of the tension, I pipe up. “Jack, that was the absolute worst Cupid Shuffle I’ve ever seen.” Lance’s head snaps to mine as I dig in. “You have a dance professional living under your roof, the least you could do is ask for help.”
Lance’s eyes bulge as Jack looks up to me speculatively before he starts to laugh. Rip joins in as I pick up the empty glass and hand it to Trevor, who’s smiling at me. “Get him another one.” Trevor doesn’t hesitate, he pours two fingers of the bottle in the glass and hands it to his dad. I look over at Lance and see him repeatedly swallowing before he turns and makes his way down the hall.
“Will you play for me when I get done changing?” Rip nods, and I turn quickly, making my way down the hall to catch Lance.
“Lance.” I’m at his back at his bedroom door. He pauses with his hand on the knob. Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around his waist and lean in, inhaling his scent. He smells like evergreen, and I become instantly addicted. He doesn’t pull away from my touch, he just lingers there with me.
I’m sorry. I love you. Please, give me another chance to prove I mean it. But I don’t say it out loud, words seem pretty useless these days. Actions speak a lot louder. And he needs actions, he needs solidarity because he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s clear to me he’s gotten to the point where he believes in trade. That in order to be successful in one area of life, you have to let go of another. He believes that all things can’t go well at once. And that’s the most heartbreaking part of it. I too thought that at one time, but I’m here to prove it’s simply not true. Warm hands cover mine as he finally speaks.
“Thank you for your help.”
I squeeze him tighter, willing him to open up, to give me something, anything.
But he releases me.
“I’m going to go help Trevor with dinner,” I whisper at his back.
I’ve been in the kitchen for hours, making Jeannie’s apple pie. I pulled it from an old recipe box after I did the dinner dishes and just got to work. Lance ate in his room—to avoid me—I’m sure. I got close today. I can’t remember a time in our whole relationship where he resisted me so damned much, even when we’d had an argument.
It’s not about you.
It’s not about you.
It’s not about you.
But it feels personal. I fucking love him. I deprived myself of two years without him, the whole time unsure if he felt the same ache. Him coming to New York was affirmation. And now the space is killing me. I don’t want to sleep down the hall from Lance. I want my place at his side. A couple of years ago, he made love to me all night long in that bedroom he’s holed up in. Now it seems like a lifetime ago. I’m close to cracking after just a week.
I need him. I want him so badly I’m aching, limbs heavy, my center a constant throb. He brought that part of me back to life.
The need is debilitating. It’s all resistance to us. I’ve made him smile, laugh, and that’s been no easy feat. Even with those leaps, it feels like he’s sinking further into himself. I pull the second pie out of the oven just as Jeannie walks in the kitchen after her shift.
“Hey, you,” I say, pouring her a cup of coffee. “I borrowed apples, cinnamon sugar, butter, flour, an egg, and some electricity. I’ll pay you back.”
She grins at me, her posture showing her fatigue as she takes the coffee and kisses my temple.
“Thanks, darlin’. And I’ll settle for a slice.”
“Coming up.”
“How was today?”
“I did a ballet for the cows, killed a coyote, and baked two pies.”
Jeannie throws her head back with a laugh. “Bet you never thought that would ever be your day’s summary.”
“It’s different,” I grin. “That’s for sure.”
“Do you like it?”
“For the most part, yes.”
She smirks into her coffee. “But not at night.”
I bite my lips. Do I really want to be talking sex with Lance’s mom?
Hell to the no. “You could say that, yes. It’s a bit lonely.”
“Hang in there. He loves apple pie.”
I grin. “I know.”
“It’s another of the few things he can’t resist.”
I quirk a brow. “Are you telling me to go seduce your son with apple pie?”
“Whatever gets me a grandchild.”
I set a piece in front of her. “I need him speaking to me first.”
“He’s good at hiding.”
“Tell me ‘bout it.” I sigh, wiping the counter before rinsing out the dishrag.
“He comes alive with you around. It might be hard for you to understand because you haven’t watched him from the beginning. He spent the first two years of his life covering our mouths to shut us up. He didn’t like the noise. Matter of fact, his first words were Mama and shut up.”
“Funny, shut up were his first words to me too.”
We both laugh as I pull a seat at the table.
“But when that child cracked a smile, he lit up the room. When he laughed, he laughed hysterically. I was so in love with my little boy.” She sips her coffee and sets it down. “He didn’t play with other children well and isolated a lot until Trevor came along. He claimed his brother the minute we brought him home. He’s always been quiet. Always, until he started getting in trouble at school. And it wasn’t words he was using that got him in hot water.”
“Fighting?”
“Yeah.”
“He likes his own noise, communicates in his own way. He seemed to blossom some in college, but when he came back, it’s like he went into himself again. Over the last few years, I’ve watched his smile fade and heard many more shut ups. But with you, it’s as if he’s picking up a conversation that he’s been having his whole life.”
I fight the threatening tears. It’s true. The man I met was confident, moody, self-assured, and highly opinionated, but only around me. To others, he was an introvert.
“Sometimes, I wonder if we did right by him. Should we have done more? Got him counseling or pried more into his life or something.”
“He’s an amazing man,” I say honestly.
“He is. But I’m not at all happy about the fact that he’s lashing out all the time and isolating more. But he’s still talking, and I’ve seen him crack a smile a mile wide since you’ve been here. His heart isn’t closed to you, Harper. You keep managing to find a code very few have access to. Don’t give up on him.”
“I won’t.” I stand, the rattle in my chest hard to bear. “I’ll get Trevor and Jack a piece.”
“Let me do that. Take one to Lance.” She stands and cuts a mammoth piece of pie and plates it along with a fork before handing it to me.
I reluctantly take it. “You’re setting me up for failure.”