Page 9 of Call it Reckless

I turned and walked back to my car, smiling. I didn’t know her well, but somehow, I felt like getting the last word in was a victory that didn’t happen often.

CHAPTERTHREE

Bristol

Abeam of sunlight woke me the next morning. I’d finally settled into a sound sleep despite starting the night tossing around on my new sheets. At first, it was disconcerting to wake up in a room I once knew well, only for it to feel completely unfamiliar.

Cam and I had spent hours talking about what room I should make mine. I was going to keep the room I’d shared with her growing up. But she insisted I should take the master bedroom. We’d gone back and forth, me arguing it was our grandparents’ room and her arguing it was now my house.

Finally, I just conceded out of weariness more than anything. It was strange, but I knew deep down she was right. Moving on was the right direction. The only direction.

I stretched in the sheets, then sat up, feeling the now-familiar twinge in my hip before it settled. My therapist assured me that would go away with more time, but I wasn’t known for my patience.

At the beginning of my therapy, I frustrated the hell out of my therapist, always trying to push harder than he wanted me to. He had a plan, but I was certain that if I pushed harder, I’d recover faster. A couple of setbacks and a few tears later, I conceded I needed to listen to him. Now, it was up to me to follow his advice without his nagging.

I climbed out of bed and did the stretches I’d been taught before reaching for my phone on my nightstand. Instead, my fingers grazed cool metal. Reid’s flashlight. The rush of memories from last night’s craziness came flooding back.

A creak on the hallway floorboards had been the first clue I wasn’t alone. My first thought had been that it was a ghost since, as soon as I’d entered the house, I had this odd sense of my grandparents’ presence. But I shook off that notion in a hurry; I was too practical for that explanation. And I knew anyone from my family would never sneak in without calling me first. That only left an intruder.

A normal person would have been scared. Instead, maybe from dealing with some powerful emotions or maybe from having too much shit thrown my way lately, I was pissed. I’d felt inside the desk drawer for a toy given to my gramps as a joke decades ago. I’d had too much taken away from me lately not to fight for this on my terms.

I knew I should have been grateful that someone had been trying to look out for the property. I was ready to thank him after the initial excitement, but then he’d called me stupid. I’d been called many things in my past, and that was one word that triggered my anger. First, no one thought a girl should be a mechanic. And because I was, no one believed I was smart enough to get into an engineering program. Then others thought it was dumb that I worked in a male-dominated field. All of it only made me work harder.

Stupid.

It didn’t matter how, even in the dim reflection of his flashlight, I thought Reid was attractive. It didn’t matter how nicely his arms filled out his khaki button-down work shirt or how his green twill pants molded nicely to his ass. And it didn’t matter how sexy I found him standing rock solid with confidence and courage before me. Calling me “stupid” in my own home had just pissed me the hell off.

I remembered meeting Reid briefly at Emalee’s wedding and knew they were good friends. He’d been polite, even a little charming, and had been surrounded by women who practically drooled as they tried to get his attention. I saw him dance with a few and fetch drinks for others. He flirted with all of them. He was probably used to women who gushed all over him.

I guess he learned quickly enough that I could take care of myself.

I dressed and headed to the kitchen. Fortunately, the power outage seemed limited to a few areas at the back of the house, so with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, I wandered to my grandfather’s study again. I brushed my fingers along the books that were still on the built-in shelves that lined an entire wall. It was quite an assortment, from fiction and poetry to car manuals and journals on construction and architecture.

I knew the room had been cleaned and painted, but the scent of my grandpa’s pipe tobacco was so ingrained in my memory that I swore I could still smell it. Everywhere I looked, my grandfather still dominated this room. He’d been a large man in life, both in his height and his presence. He didn’t speak a lot, but when he did, he had the kind of voice that people naturally listened to, deep and soothing. He rarely raised his voice in anger. He didn’t have to. Because he was always quick with praise, when he was unhappy with something, you just knew it by his frown and the disappointment in his hazel eyes.

My brother, Chase, was so much like him. I was more like my grandmother, who was never one to mince words if something needed saying. But she was quick with a smile and a compliment, too. Unfortunately, I was bolder, brasher, and louder. Living in a male-dominated world had not softened those edges.

A chime on my phone alerted me to a text. It was from Chase, asking me to join them for brunch within the hour. I quickly texted back and pulled myself from my memories to get ready.

* * *

KnowingI didn’t need to knock, I walked into Chase’s home and followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen. Like any big farmhouse, the kitchen of Silver Creek Farm was the center of activity. Cam was cracking eggs into a glass bowl, and Chase turned bacon on the griddle. Emalee stirred something on the stovetop while her husband, Zach, was pouring champagne into glasses already half-filled with orange juice. Chase’s housekeeper, Marta, pulled a pan from the oven, which, if my nose could be counted on, held her amazing homemade cinnamon rolls. She sat it on the counter next to another full basket of biscuits. They did all of this while keeping a running dialogue of what the bride’s dress looked like and which groomsmen hooked up with which bridesmaid the night before.

“Please tell me you have at least ten more people coming to eat all of that food.”

Five pairs of eyes swung to where I stood grinning in the doorway. Five big smiles lit up their accompanying faces.

“You made it!” Cam pulled me in for a long hug with a whispered, “I love you.”

Chase tugged me away for his hug, accompanied by a head noogie. “Glad you’re here, noodlehead.” I didn’t mind his teasing, at least, not this time. It helped make the moment feel normal, as if I’d always been a part of Sunday morning brunches.

Emalee had tears in her eyes as she squeezed me tightly, rocking us side to side. Zach’s hug was the gentlest, but no less sincere. I saw concern in his green eyes as he gazed into mine, silently assessing for himself that I was truly fine like he would if I were a wounded animal. Only when I smiled and nodded at him did he relax and step back, dropping an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

Fast footsteps pounded behind me.

“You’re here!” Iain, Em and Zach’s son, ran into the room, followed by his grandmother, Raelyn. He wrapped his arms around my legs.

I dropped to my knees to hug him better. “Hey, speed racer. How’s it going?”

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