Home > Tangled Sheets(66)

Tangled Sheets(66)
Author: J.L. Beck

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

After we shower and run to the grocery store, Aaron and Chloe decide to go explore the boardwalk, but I’m tired and anxious to paint a little so I decide to hang out at the house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Chloe asks, looking like she just stepped off a runway.

“One, you look hot, and two I don’t want to waste this sunset.” I point to the pink painted sky, just beyond the horizon.

She lifts a shoulder. “I take it after this afternoon you found your muse?”

I blush and toss a paintbrush at her. “What?” she asks innocently.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she says in a smug voice. She bends over to press a kiss to my forehead with a loud obnoxious smack of her lips and sings out. “You love me, and you’re welcome by the way.” She points at the painting.

I stare at the canvas with a smile. “I don’t know if this summer would be the same without you,” I admit.

She drops her hands on my shoulders. “You, Veronica Abernathy, are destined for greatness. You just have to get out of your own head long enough to see what the rest of us see.”

I smile up at her. “I’m trying.”

“And you are thriving.” She grins. “Okay, I’m out.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and sashays away.

I paint for another hour, enjoying the view from the back of the house, and then my phone rings. It’s Momma and I feel bad about how we left things, so I answer it. “Hello.” I sigh.

“I take it you guys made it safely,” she says, her tone hurt that I didn’t call her.

“Yeah,” I cringe. “I’m sorry. We kinda got here and then ran straight to the ocean.”

“But you remembered to call your dad.” It isn’t an accusation, she just sounds sad.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I had a good day today and I don’t want to argue.

“Are you having fun?” she asks.

“A blast.”

“Are you being safe?”

I want to roll my eyes at the question but then I remember this afternoon when Devin and I had sex without a condom, and I wonder how she always knows. “Yeah,” I lie. “I’m painting again too,” I add, trying to change the subject.

“I knew you’d get it back,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice. Our relationship has always been rocky, but I know she loves me.

“I really am sorry I forgot to call.”

“I get it, you’re growing up and you don’t need me as much as you did before, but I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” I insist.

“Yeah, you say that now, but next year when you’re in Chicago, starting your life…I just sometimes worry, my past mistakes were too much for you to overcome.”

A tear rolls down my cheek before I can stop it. We’ve gone over this in therapy before but I never realized how much Momma still struggles with what happened. “I forgave you a long time ago. If it weren’t for you, Chicago wouldn’t even be on my radar. I know I don’t always act like it, but I love you, and I forgive you.”

A sob breaks from her throat and I have to fight back my own tears. “Jesus Mom, this is supposed to be a happy weekend.”

She sniffles. “You’re right. I’ll let you go. Have fun.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

I hang up the phone and wipe my tears. I notice movement from the side of my eye and see Devin hanging back by the door. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Making dinner.”

“You didn’t want to go exploring?”

“I didn’t come here to hang out with everyone else. I came for you.”

My heart thuds in my chest and I smile brightly. Standing, I walk towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and lift up on my toes to press a kiss to his lips. It feels good to do that without second guessing every step of the way. “You’re starting to sound like the stalker now.”

“At least I’m honest,” he says.

“What are we doing?” I ask, the question a loaded gun to both of our heads. I know he can feel the shift in our relationship, though neither of us has bothered to mention it out loud. It’s there hanging between us, and it has been ever since we transitioned from best friends to best friends with benefits.

“We’re making dinner.” He licks the ring circling his bottom lip.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He presses his lips to my nose and despite my anxiety, I melt into his arms. “I know.”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t speak. He just grabs my hand and pulls me behind him to the kitchen. A part of me wants to press. To force him to define the new terms of our relationship, and a bigger part of me is too afraid of what he will say. I know what I want, and it’s him, but I don’t know what he wants.

He wants to be able to have his cake and eat it too. The voice inside my head that sounds a lot like Gran murmurs. I ignore it because today is a good day and I don’t want to ruin my trip.

In the kitchen, Devin has all the ingredients laid out. I stare at the chicken breast, heavy cream, and parmesan cheese like it’s a differential equation. “What’s all this?”

“I thought I’d make you chicken Alfredo,” he says. “It’s one of your favorite, right?”

“Yeah, but Momma usually just uses the stuff from the jar.”

He grins at me. “Where’s the fun in that?” I smile because his mood is infectious and when he’s like this I almost forget how to breathe. “The recipe is on my phone. Read it to me, would you?”

He tells me his password and I pick it up. “Where is it?” I ask, staring at his home screen. It’s a picture of the two of us at The Grove.

“Umm, should be the last app,” he says distractedly.

I swipe up, glancing through all the apps. I spot the recipe, but then something else catches my eye. It’s an Instagram message, and despite myself, I click on it. It’s a message to Truly. I’m glad your home.

My heart stops and I drop the phone before turning and walking out of the kitchen, away from the only boy I’ve ever loved.

The End… for now

 

 

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About the Author

 

 

Writer of words. Mother of Joy. Wife of Compassion. Carmel likes to write stories about real people who go through real struggles, and come out the other side stronger. She also likes to write smut. Welcome to her brain. It’s a little screwed up, but always well intended.

 

https://carmelrhodes.com/

 

 

Fixer

 

 

By Vivi Paige & Bethany Banks

 

 

Vivi Paige & Bethany Banks

 

 

They call me the Fixer. There’s no problem I can’t solve… except the one called Theresa.

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