Page 8 of Tangled Desires

“You got me there. Who?” My computer decides to finally pull the program up, and I’m once again reminded that I’ll need Jude over here soon.

“Lyric. You remember her, right? She lived next door. Her mom and I were good friends. Though, we lost touch. Life got busy and whatnot. Her father was a big to-do Marine. Anyways, the house next door is hers. She inherited it, and, honey, it needs a lot of work. I hope you don’t mind I gave her your number for an estimate.” I puff out a breath of air.Of course, I remember Lyric Skye. Kind of hard to forget the first girl you ever loved.

Motherfucking fuck.

I knew Lyric was here in Whispering Oaks. I also knew she’d been at my folks’ house. What I didn’t know was that Mom would throw us back together like this.

“Yeah, Mom.” I’m sure she can hear the tension in my voice.

“Well, honey, what was I supposed to do? Give her some two-blow joe’s number so he can screw her out of the money her parents left her?” I’ve gone and truly pissed her off, and all I said were two damn words.

“Give me the phone, Ellie,” I hear Dad mumble in the background. Well, my night just went from shit to shittier.

“He’s not being an asshole, just a grump,” Mom retorts. I muffle my chuckle.

“Jag, you there?” Dad is swift with his words.

“Yeah, I’m here. I already told Mom it was fine. Joss gave me the heads-up she referred someone. I was looking at the schedule when she sprung the news on me.”

“Alright, we’re all aware there’s a past but, bud, I saw the girl myself. Boy, that girl has had the weight of the world on her shoulders. The way your mom tells it, she came home from college to help and never went back, been taking care of one parent after the other.” I already knew as soon as I saw Lyric’s name with Randy attached to the estimate order, I’d be taking over. The last thing I want is to admit to myself why I’ve been ready to delete his name and input mine.

“I’ll take care of it. Mom didn’t let me get a word in before you came on. I’ll call her tomorrow, see if I can’t meether over there before Monday.” A clawing takes ahold of my chest, rattling my cage, making me think all kinds of shit I don’t need to be reflecting on. Thoughts that make me second-guess keeping my distance, putting the past where it belongs, in the past, and laying my eyes on her in the flesh. The picture Jude showed me happened to be her driver’s license. I don’t know one single person who has a decent picture attached to their identification, yet some-fucking-how, Lyric does.

“I knew you would. We’ll be around. Make sure you stop on by and bring Lyric around.” I don’t respond, mostly because there’s a clanking going on, and I hear Mom say something to my father before he’s gone. This call is going to take a lot longer than I expected, meaning getting out of here early is shot to shit. I’m tempted to grab my laptop, the contracts, plans, and head home. There’s one slight problem with my plan—I won’t stop until I’m falling asleep, and I’m talking head nodding only to smack myself in the head when I inherently conk out.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you helping Lyric,” my mother says calmly into the phone. Apparently, she booted Dad out of the situation once she got her way. Classic Eleanor Steele moves right there.

“You’re welcome. I’ll let you know when I’m over your way. Am I good to get back to work now?” I ask.

“No, you’re not. Let me tell you what Lyric did today, which, by the way, she wouldn’t allow me to so much as lift a finger. I had to watch as she went to town trimming the bushes, which she said was pointless because roses will be replacing them soon enough. Then she trimmed backbranches, grabbed a weed eater, and went to town in order to see to those massive pavers. I feel bad we didn’t keep up with it more than we did. Anyways, we fed her dinner, and now she’s back at the bed and breakfast.” She barely takes a breath before she’s back at it, “Your father told her she’d be doing a lot of this stuff for no good reason, especially once the work on the house starts. Lyric shrugged her shoulders and said at least it wouldn’t be even more overgrown, and it gives her something to do besides sitting down. That girl, well, I can’t wait for you to see her again.” The giddiness in her tone means she’s up to something and what that is will be no good.

“Mom.” She continues carrying on about Lyric. Talking about her features, the way she looks exactly like her mom, eye color, hair color, physical build, and what she wore today. “Mom, stop.” I try to get her attention again. She still doesn’t stop. My eyes close, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, placing my elbows on my desk. I’m tempted to hit the end button, except I’d find myself in a world of trouble. She already sicced Dad on me after I barely said two words. I can only imagine what will happen next.

“Mom!” I bark louder than necessary.

“Goodness, Jagger, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Gee, I can’t fucking imagine. This whole week has been one thing after another, whether it’s with myself or with a childhood girlfriend who had no problem leaving me in the dust. The damn kicker of it all is, after seeing her picture, my cock can’t get with the program. I’ve ignored it. Not once have I allowed my hand to get near it when it perksup at the thought of her. It’s made for a long-as-fuck few weeks.

“Nobody did. Yet. I’ve got to finish up a few things at the office. Then I’ll make a call to Lyric tomorrow.” I already knew I would. Randy’s name sitting there like a beacon, flashing on the screen, is doing nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me, inherently eating me up. The anger I hold over Lyric makes me second-guess calling her tomorrow, but there’s my mom, hounding me, Dad getting in on it, and my own fucking conscience.

“Well, shoot, I’m sorry. I’ll let you go. If you think about it, text me when you make it home. I worry, you know.”

“It’s okay, and I’m well aware you worry. I’ll send you a message. Even though you or Dad never respond,” I appease her. When I’m out and she’s none the wiser, Mom doesn’t ask me to do this. Occurrences like these, well, they seem to hit differently.

“One day, we might, though. I love you, Jagger.” She gives me false hope over her use of technology. Hence her calling me from her landline this evening.

“I love you, too. Talk soon.” We hang up after that. I don’t waste any time ending the call. I stand up, grab the files, my laptop, the keys to my truck, and the phone I was using seconds ago. There’s no use staying in the office to work. The quiet room does nothing to help me focus. It didn’t before the call, and it still doesn’t now. At least at home, there’s beer to drink and food to eat with a television that will no doubt have a game playing. Anything sounds better than sitting at the office on a Friday night, alone.

6

LYRIC

“Five more minutes,” I mumble into my pillow, slapping my hand around on the mattress until I find the blaring annoyance of my phone going off. Finally, my palm meets the device, and the noise quits making a racket. I roll over, tuck myself beneath the covers, and hide away from the sun shining into my room. The last thing I want to do is wake up when I only fell asleep what seems like hours ago.

I’d been packing all of the yard tools into the detached garage when Eleanor came traipsing over. I stopped what I was doing immediately and headed in her direction. My outfit that consisted of a long-sleeve shirt, a pair of old ratty jeans with rips in the knees and stained with paint or bleach in a few areas, and sneakers that have seen better days was something to look at, that’s for sure. I finally finished what I could, and luckily for me, the tenants didn’t leave any belongings in the detached garage and it’sin a heck of a lot better shape than the interior of the house.

I still have a lot of work left to do in the backyard, but the small dent in the progress out front made me feel proud. Until I did a quick survey while Eleanor invited me over to their house for a hot meal and air conditioning. I was tempted to say no, until she mentioned what they cooked. My stomach let out a loud growl at the thought a Greek salad, fettuccine Alfredo, chicken cutlets, garlic knots, and tiramisu. All catered from the pizzeria the next town over. They said they always order too much, that after all these years, they’re still unable to order or cook for only the two of them.

After a couple of more minutes, she thoroughly convinced me to join their party of two even though I knew I’d feel more like a third wheel. Which I actually didn’t, by the way. We chatted, ate our fill, and then we said good night. They even tried to lure me into spending the night, but I told them my room was paid for, and there was no use letting money go to waste. I think Eleanor might have been a little worried that I would be too tired to drive; little did she know that wasn’t the case.

---