Page 24 of Finding Silence
Yesterday turned out to be a fantastic day, and Brant Colter turned out to be the best surprise ever. Who’d have thought that taciturn and grumpy neighbor could be packing such heat?
First of all, fishing was the bomb. I had an awesome time. The banter, the friendly competition, the weather, it had all been great already. But then came that kiss, completely pulling the rug out from under me. Not even in my fantasies could I have predicted the intensity with which he kissed me, the possessiveness in the way he held me against him.
Brant Colter may want the world to think he’s a good ol’boy, laid back and unflappable, but that man is hiding a deep well of passion I only sampled a little dip from yesterday.
After that first kiss, we talked. As is becoming the norm, me more than him, but both of us made a concerted effort to open up about our lives while we cooked and ate our spoils of the day.
For instance, I’ve learned that Brant’s wife—Savvy’s mother—died of cancer about ten years ago, and he retired last year after a massive heart attack and bypass surgery at his daughter’s behest. I know he grew up here in Silence and—save for his college years—lived here all his life.
So different from my life experience, which included so much traveling and moving from one place to the next. His friends are all here in Silence, still enriching his life, while I made friends all over the world, but have barely maintained contact with any of them.
At face value it might look like we aren’t compatible at all, but yesterday proved that to be a misinterpretation. Don’t get me wrong, the way I was, even right after the band broke up, would not have felt so much of a connection with him, but now he seems to fit me just right.
The food was great, so was the company, and that second kiss—when he dropped me off on my doorstep last night—promised more of that goodness in my future.
So yes, today, I’m floating.
A message pings on my phone.
* * *
Realtor called–you haven’t responded to latest offer.
Pls chk email.
* * *
Shit.
I haven’t looked at my laptop since Brant showed up on my doorstep. Reluctantly I take my coffee and sit down at the kitchen table where I left it, and flip it open. I immediately exit the browser I’d left open yesterday. I don’t want anything to sour my mood, it’s not like I can do anything about it anyway. Instead, I click on my inbox and look for the email from my real estate agent in Portland.
It looks like this one is even better than the previous two; they’re offering a fair chunk of money over list price, and I notice they’re asking for a closing date only two weeks out. Preferring to have the sale of my house done and over with as soon as possible, with everything else going on, I sign on the dotted line with my legal name, Phyllis Woods. Then I immediately send it back to the realtor.
Then I call Grace.
“It’s done. I accepted the offer.”
“Oh good. With the closing date they asked for?”
“Yes. It’s empty, right? What’s the use waiting?”
I hear Grace snort on the other end.
“You really are in a hurry, aren’t you?”
“With this latest stunt? Yeah, I’m done. The sooner I can sever ties with my old life, the better.”
I’m met with silence.
“Grace?”
“I hope that doesn’t mean me,” she finally says.
“Of course not. I’m always going to need you. How often do I have to tell you you’re indispensable? What you do for me is what allows me to disappear from the stage altogether. I need someone out there to handle my affairs, why would I want anyone other than you?”
“Good to know.”
I roll my eyes; thankful she can’t see me. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to reassure her when she suddenly seems insecure of her place in my life.
