Page 29 of QB Keeper
I started by tearing up the entire floor of their front porch last month when I noticed one loose board. My dad offered to help, but I told him I was bored with it being the offseasonand that I was trying to stay busy. Then, I built my mom some new flower beds, even though there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the old ones. I had to really sell the idea by telling her she didn’t have enough pollinator plants, thus guilting her into thinking she was part of the bee endangerment problem in New England. I’m not really proud of that, but it got her to stop asking questions.
Now, it’s onto the mulch issue.
It's funny how I stayed away for so long, always finding an excuse to avoid being here. But now that I’ve broken the dam and seen Grace again, I have an overwhelming urge to be close. I know she hates me and that she probably doesn’t want to see me, but I just have this nagging feeling that I need to be here.
“You know,” my mom says, “you do have a little place of your own that could probably use some attention if you’re so insistent on doing work. I was thinking maybe we could make some updates to?—”
“No,” I say, probably more firmly than I should. She just wants to help. “I’m not going there. I’m fine right here, doing your yardwork for no pay.” I smirk, trying to lighten the mood, and I’m thankful when she smiles back.
“Oh, my poor, sweet child,” she mocks. “Is that two-hundred-million-dollar contract extension not covering your bills? Does mommy need to start giving you an allowance for doing your chores again?”
“For fuck’s sake, woman,” I mumble. “You better watch it or I’ll pay off your mortgage when you’re not looking.”
My parents have refused to take a dime from me since I signed my new contract with the Blizzard. They’re very successful and really don’t need my help, but it seems ridiculous that they won’t let me pay some of their bills when they sacrificed so much to get me where I am today. Not to mention, my contract is a hell of a lot more than I could ever need in this lifetime. I’m a single guy who lives alone. I givealmost half of my salary to charity every year and still have more than enough to last me long after I retire.
“You don’t scare me, Tanner Patrick,” she says smugly before taking the empty glass from my hand and turning back toward the house. She gets halfway to the door before facing me again. “You know, you may get better results on the…yardworkif you do it after about a quarter to six on weekdays.” Her eyes very briefly slide to the other side of the street before she heads back into the house while I stand there completely dumbfounded.
I shake my head, wondering how the fuck my mom knows why I’m out here. She couldn’t possibly know the details. That I fell in love with the neighbor and broke her heart, and that’s why I’ve spent years away from home. I may be her son, but if she really knew, she’d probably kick my ass. She’d have to get in line behind Riggs because that motherfucker would have me eating through a straw if he found out what went down that summer. I’d allow it, too. I deserve that and more for what I did to Grace, although knowing she’s going to marry Cash fucking Hadley hurts worse than anything they could do to me.
I can’t help but wonder if I pushed her right into his arms. She told me back then that when he touched her, it didn’t feel right. Did I leave her so vulnerable that he swooped in and took advantage of her? Or did she just genuinely fall for him? I have so many questions, but what would having answers really get me? More regret? Probably.
I try to distract myself by removing some of the mulch mountains from around the trees in the yard, hoping I can save them before the roots rot completely. Before I know it, the summer sun has cooled off and I look up just in time to see a white SUV turn the corner, pulling into the driveway at the old Robinson house. The light glares off the window at the worst possible angle, preventing me from seeing her completely, but I know it’s her by the golden hair framing herface. My shoulders sag as the garage door opens and she pulls inside and out of my view.
I work for a little while longer, praying to God that she comes out to get the mail or something, but give up when the darkness starts to settle in and I hear crickets chirping in the distance. I notice that Cash still hasn’t arrived home, and I wonder if Grace ate dinner alone. Is this normal for him to work well into the evening? The thought makes me angry because she deserves better than that. She deserves someone who rushes to be with her at the end of every workday. Someone who counts the hours until he can look into those beautiful blue eyes again.
I could’ve been that guy. Instead, I’m standing here like a fucking creep hoping she isn’t sitting by the door waiting for him to come home.
I pack up the yard tools, returning them to the garage and trying to figure out when I can come back again. I just want another glimpse of her. I want to know that she really is happy and loved the way she should be.
Training camp starts in a few days, so it’s going to be harder to make trips out here during the week, but I’ll have to figure it out. Because no matter how badly it hurts knowing she’s right down the street in a house that she shares with another man, I can’t help it. Being in close proximity to Grace again feels like a missing piece has been returned to my otherwise empty existence.
TWENTY-ONE
GRACE
“That’s…not right,”I whisper to myself, looking at the monstrosity draped across the dress form in front of me. I was so excited when I had a random moment of inspiration earlier while I was looking at the new clothes that were delivered to the boutique. The pieces were amazing, but I thought of a few things that I could do that might make them even better. I decided to come home and put my own twist on some of this season’s trending looks, but I guess I’m not quite there yet. What I was seeing in my head is not what I ended up with at all.
I’m not going to get completely discouraged, though. I’ve been begging my brain to feel something for so long, that I’ll take any crumbs of inspiration I get when it comes to making clothes. I think I just need to blow the dust off of my sewing skills, to be honest. My seams are crooked and the entire dress looks kind of lopsided. On top of that, I was a little scared to think outside the box with this one like I would’ve when I was younger. The result is a plain, boring piece that looks like it would be sold at any old shop. But progress is progress.
I hate to say it, but one of the things I lost the day Tanner left was my motivation to design clothes. I don’t think ithappened all at once, but as soon as I knew I truly didn’t want to go to the California College of the Arts, I decided to take a couple of months off. I was younger and a lot weaker than I am now, but when he walked away, I felt like my world had ended. Before him, I was happy and full of hope for the future. After him, I felt like every day was a struggle to even get out of bed. I mourned the loss of not only my first love, but one of my closest friends. The problem was that it felt so good to lie in bed and cry all day, that it was hard to stop. It took me a long time to move from that stage of emptiness and depression to the one where I was so angry, that I couldn’t even see his face on a billboard without wanting to scream at it. Eventually, that anger turned to resentment, which is where I’ve been for years. Seeing him at my parents’ anniversary party stirred up so many different emotions that it was hard to decide which one to let out. At first, it was shock. My parents have sent him an invitation to every event they’ve had for the past five years, but he’s never shown up. He sends flowers or champagne, but has never actually come to celebrate. So, seeing his face when I swung the door open that day knocked me off-kilter for a minute. By the time he chased me down in the driveway, indifference had settled in. It wasn’t until he touched me, and I felt the spark of electricity that I thought my body had forgotten, that I realized how angry I still am with him.
I ended up pulling myself together about a year after he left, realizing he was never coming back for me, and signed up for the business management program at our local community college. I figured it would be a good way to ease back into school and gain some knowledge about running a business. I knew my creativity had taken a huge hit, so I didn’t want to waste time attempting to design clothes when I wasn’t fully myself yet. Before I knew it, two years had gone by, and I had an associate’s degree. When Claire offered me ajob at her boutique, it seemed like another step in the right direction.
My goal was always to eventually start doing original designs again. I never wanted to give that up, and it never even crossed my mind that I wouldn’t be able to do it again in the future. Every now and then, I’ll sit down at my sewing machine and give it a try, but I'm just never happy with what I come up with. Sadly, this dress is the closest I've come to being proud of my work in a long time. It’s just missing that extra something that used to set my pieces apart from everyone else’s.
Just as I’m considering wrapping it up and giving it to my mom for her next birthday, because she loves boring dresses, I hear the garage door open. I check my phone to see that it’s almost ten at night, and Cash is just getting home. Now that we’re well into the summer, he’s been staying late to work on the housing project almost every night. They’ve broken ground already, but they’re still finalizing everything for the inside of the complex. I’m proud of him for being such a hands-on leader with this, but I can’t say I don’t get a little frustrated sometimes when he’s gone.
I turn off the lights and close the spare bedroom door, heading down the stairs and meeting him in the kitchen just as he comes through the door. I can tell right away that he’s been drinking, which is not uncommon since the team sometimes goes out after they work overtime.
“Hey, babe,” I say, sauntering up to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. “I missed you.” I burrow my head into his neck, but he just plants a quick kiss to my temple before pulling away.
“I stink,” he says, already making his way toward the hallway. “I’m going to go hop in the shower and get in bed. It was a long day.”
I deflate a little, because it seems like it’s been weeks since we’ve spent any real time together, and I’m getting kind oflonely. I spend a lot of extra time with Monroe and visit my parents as often as I can without feeling like I’m intruding on their kid-free life, but sometimes I just want to be with my fiancé.
“Okay,” I say quietly, giving him an understanding smile. “I’ll get ready in the other bathroom and meet you in bed.”
“Sounds good, babe,” he says, taking off out of sight. I go into the downstairs bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth, and fluff my hair a little. When I get to the bedroom, I think I’ll have time to change into something a little sexier, so I can hopefully catch his attention, but he’s already fast asleep. He must have taken a two-minute shower and barely even dried off before the exhaustion took him out.
