Page 18 of Tripped By Love
Cassidy
SUGAR
“Boy I’ve been cooking up one hell of a crush.
I've got you on my mind the minute I wake up.”
Performed by Maren Morris
Written by Veltz / Tyler / Morris
I gave up on the ideaof working out as soon as Marco left. I resorted to icing my elbow for the second night, downing five cookies, and then collapsing in bed where sleep evaded me. My mind raced with everything that had happened in a span of twenty-four hours: Marco’s hands on me, Clayton’s veiled threats, and Ralley’s offer.
Sleepless nights weren’t anything new for me. The nonstop nature of my brain had been a problem since I was a kid. It had made school difficult and studying even harder. But just like the night before, it was Marco who haunted me the most as I lay looking at the ceiling. The truths he’d finally given me about his past and his family, along with the glimpse of affection I’d seen in him for his foster mom, made me greedy to know more, while, at the same time, I ached for what he’d gone through.
So, it was no surprise that when I did finally fall asleep, it was still Marco who drifted through my dreams. Just like he was the first thing to pop into my head when I woke. He filled my thoughts as I got ready for my day and as I met Mom at the back door, coming in with a cup of coffee in hand.
Even at five in the morning on a Saturday, my mom was dressed in tailored jeans and a button-down. She was in good shape for a woman who’d hit sixty, but her hair that had once been the same dirty-blonde color as mine was now littered with white she didn’t bother to hide. While Brady and I got our light-brown eyes from our father, our mom’s were a pale gray, like storm clouds fading away. Her face was lined with wrinkles, but she still looked younger than her years, regardless of the fact she’d spent twenty-five of them agonizing over me.
“You look exhausted,cailín deas,” she said, the Irish-Gaelic term for sweetheart rolling off her tongue as it had since I was a baby. I forced myself to remember how lucky I was rather than snip back at her that she looked tired, too. After all, I was the reason she was up so early. She came over every morning, whether or not college was in session, to watch Chevelle for me while I went to the restaurant. During the week, by the time she had to journey off to Wilson-Jacobs for her classes in Celtic studies and the diversity of the Gaelic languages, Tristan was there, picking my son up. My family had circled around me and Chevelle to make sure we had the support we needed. Not all single moms could say the same.
With the school year almost over, Chevelle would spend the entire day with my parents while I was at the restaurant. They were raising him almost more than I was, if I was to count the hours he was with them versus me. It increased the ache I already felt in my chest this morning, growing to proportions that felt hard to keep inside, but I had to. Otherwise, Mom would take it as a sign that I was breaking down, for sure.
So, as her eyes continued to take me in, squinting as if she could see some unknown harm, I turned so that the invisible bruise on my heart and the very visible one on my elbow wouldn’t be seen.
“I’m fine,” I told her.
“Maybe you should give the workouts with Marco a break for a few days. Give yourself a chance to catch up on some rest,” she suggested.
I almost laughed because I’d missed two in a row, and there was no way I was missing more, whether or not Marco was there with me. The workouts were the reason I could stay on my feet all day at the restaurant. They gave my poor muscles a fighting chance. For more reasons than I could count, Marco being there each night, surrounding me with his gaze and his scent, were my moments of peace at the end of my long days.
I kissed her cheek instead of replying. “I’ll text you when I’m leaving the café.”
“We’re taking Hannah and Chevelle out to Romero’s after lunch. They’ve still got chicks and bunnies running all over the place,” she said.
The Romero Farm was one of the biggest apple orchards in the area, but they also had a farm full of animals that all the schools and families in the area took their kids to. I tried not to feel even more guilty that it was my parents who were taking Chevelle and not me. It was a normal, grandparent type of activity. Something they might have done even if he wasn’t with them so much, but I was going to miss out on all his joy. The way his eyes would light up at the animals and how his little feet would stumble after them.
“Sounds like fun,” I said.
“If you get done early, you could join us,” she responded.
“I’d like that. I’ll have to see how the day goes.”
I was out the door and on my way to the restaurant before she could really respond.
Cliff and Willow were waiting at the door when I got to The Golden Heart, both sipping on coffees and looking like they wished they’d had a few more hours of sleep as well. While we did as much prep for our mornings as we could each afternoon, the daily deliveries of fresh produce meant we had plenty to keep us busy until we opened at six. My mind filled with the tasks at hand, and it wasn’t until the morning rush had died down into a trickle that Marco came back into my head.
He had to have been in Texas by now.
Before I thought better of it, I took out my phone and sent him a text.
ME: How’s Maliyah?
It took a few minutes before he responded back. Maybe it was because we’d never engaged in how-are-you kind of conversations. All our texts had been about workouts and schedules. If I scrolled back through our chain of messages, there was not a single one that asked about something that mattered to him personally.
MARCO: Feisty. Ready to go home even though the doctors aren’t letting her out of their sight for a few more days. She had a mild stroke along with the heart episode.
Sadness filled my veins for him as I tried to push aside the selfish thought that now he wouldn’t be able to come home any time soon. He’d have to stay a while to take care of her.Where he should be, my brain chimed in. But my soul was miserable at the thought of not seeing him again for weeks?maybe longer. Maybe he’d have to stay there permanently. Maybe he’d have to give up his job as Brady’s bodyguard altogether.
