Page 13 of Something Tangled Something True
“I love you, Lola Lima, and neither time nor distance will ever change that. I swear to you.”
She blinked away the tears, a stray one slipping free of her clumped, damp lashes, falling down the curve of her cheek. I swiped at it with the pad of my thumb.
“I love you too,” she said, dropping her hands to wind her arms around my neck. My body hummed with approval, pulse pounding in my throat as she climbed into my lap and rested her cheek over my heart. I reveled in the weight of her in my arms, holding her until the sun had set and there were a million stars lighting the sky. I knew without a doubt that I had the brightest one of all right there, in my arms.
My throat burns, heat licking up my neck at the memory as I pull up outside of the main house, parking beside my dad’s truck. I nearly toss my body out in an effort to get around to her door before she can haul ass inside.
Her wide smile greets me when I open her door, a shimmer of butterflies swarming in my stomach. She reaches out her hand to take mine without a second thought, and I help her out onto the dirt-covered ground.
“Always the gentleman,” she says with a smirk. “I see you’re the same Ryder Lockhart I once knew.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, darlin’. I’d say plenty’s changed with me. I don’t think you’ve gotten a good look atallthe things that’veimprovedin the last few years,” I tell her with a wink, and her cheeks turn rosy.
“Your ego certainly hasn’t suffered either,” she jokes, smacking my bicep and heading inside.
I follow her, being sure to keep my gaze averted to my own feet as we make it up the porch steps. The last thing I need is my mother’s prying eyes catching me staring at Lola’s wide hips and firm ass.
Once we’re both on flat ground again, I peer over at the kitchen window a few feet from the front door, where the white lace curtains rustle as Mom hurries away.
I shake my head in silent laughter, heading into the home I grew up in. Some things never change.
Dinner goes exactly as expected. No one brings up the elephant in the room: that Lola was supposed to get married, and now she’s here. Alone. Instead, my brother, Zeke, sits in brooding silence beside me, a trait that only became more prevalent after his service in the military, and our parents fawn over Lola, overwhelming her with questions about her plans for work while she’s here. Except Lola is Lola, which means she doesn’t show her discomfort. No, instead, she’s politely engaging in this conversation while her foot taps incessantly beneath the table, giving her away.
“I’m excited to teach again, but”—she flutters her lashes in a uniquely Lola way and smiles at my mom—“I don’t know if there’s much of a market for Latin dance lessons in Hidden Valley, Oklahoma.”
My parents chuckle, hanging on her every word, and for good reason. Lola’s the kind of woman who lights up every room she’s in. She could be speaking about the most mundane things, and you’d still find yourself absolutely enraptured by her. I know I might be biased, but it’s clear as day when you’ve seen it for yourself time and time again.
“Oh, Lola, when will you learn, precious girl? If you provide it, they will come! I’m sure you’d be surprised to find out just how many of us unsuspecting small-town folks are interested in something new and exciting like your dance classes!” My mom has always been team Lola, in all things.
“¡Sí, mija!They will come,” Bexaida, Lola’s mom, assures her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lockhart,” Lola says, her cheeks turning that pretty rose color again.
Mom waves a wrinkled hand at Lola. “Oh, you stop withthat! You’ve been gone a few years, but you didn’t hit the reset button. I’ll always be Bee to you!” Mom peers at me with a sly grin on her lips before adding, “Or maybe, one day, you can call me Mom.”
I nearly choke on my own spit, but Lola takes it in stride, completely unfazed by her antics.
“Sorry,Bee,” Lola emphasizes with a wide grin and raised brows. “I appreciate your support. Really, I do.” Her dark-brown eyes soften. “I appreciateallyour support,” she says, addressing everyone at the table. “I know we haven’t spoken about it, and I’m thankful you’ve all given me some time to just be here without having to talk it out.”
Her leg is shaking a million miles a minute under the table, and I’m certain I’m the only one who notices. I’m sitting directly across from her, just like old times, so I settle my foot overtop of hers, and the shaking stops. Her eyes shoot up, sheepishly meeting mine in a silent “thanks.”
When will she finally believe there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her?
We finish dinner without any more wayward glances. Lola volunteers to do the dishes. My chair scrapes across the hardwood floors as I stand, immediately making my way over to her at the sink. “You wash, I'll dry?” I ask her.
She gives me a small smile, nodding her agreement.
My cell vibrates in my back pocket, and when I see who the message is from, it doesn’t take any time at all before I’m turning the power off entirely and tucking it away.
Lola and I fall into a rhythm, her meticulously washing each dish before rinsing and handing it to me to dry and stack.
With each dish, her posture becomes more and more rigid, her hands shaking the smallest amount, and a strained look passes across her face.
I lower my head to her ear so only she can hear me. “Darlin’, let me finish up thesedishes, yeah?”
I get a quick flash of her eyes in my direction, but that’s the only acknowledgement I receive to confirm she’s heard me.
“I’m not sure what’s going on, but you look like you’re in pain, and we can’t have that. I promise, I don’t mind takin’ care of these.”Or you.‘Please, let me!’ I want to shout but bite my tongue.
