Page 69 of The Trust We Broke
“I did. Here, let me take your jacket.”
I place my briefcase down and shake out of my thick winter coat. “Thank you.”
He hooks it over his denim jacket with the bright Iron Outlaws patch on the back.
“You want a coffee?” He walks to the kitchen, and I can’t help but look at the way his jeans hug the curves of his ass.Always did like the way he looked in a pair of jeans. Never loved washing them, though. One pair of jeans and one of his hoodies that could house three average-sized people used to take up the whole washing machine.
“I’d love one.”
In the kitchen, the decor does not improve. While the counters are an innocuous bleached wood, there is a large wooden sign above the window that saysfamily.And, randomly, on the wall next to the fridge, are a giant fork and spoon.
Grudge sees where I’m looking and tips his chin to them. “Mom. She means well, but she keeps bringing random shit over and hammering it to the wall wherever she sees space.”
The loss of his mom was the second-worst thing about our breakup. She was so kind and welcoming to me from when we were kids. She sat next to me at the trial, holding my hand, reassuring me that everything was going to be okay.
I point to the woodenfamily.“Is she trying to drop hints or something?”
Grudge chuckles. “Maybe. She comes over every season, though. I got totes in the garage filled with seasonal shit she buys on discount. She waits until Christmas is over and goes to the store and scoops up whatever they’re throwing out at sixty percent off. That’s her threshold. Has to be sixty. Fifty, she feels like they’re just playing around. Pretty sure the fork and spoon were eighty percent off.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I can see why.”
He grins. “I used to say I didn’t care one way or another, because it gave her pleasure doing it. But I’m starting to feel a bit like this isn’t my home anymore.”
“Then, ask her to stop.”
Grudge puts a filter in the coffee maker and scoops out some delicious-smelling coffee. When he adds water and turns it on,the machine bubbles and hisses before the coffee starts to fill the pot below and the scent intensifies.
“I feel like it would hurt her feelings.”
I shrug. “Perhaps if you said you were redecorating in a new vibe. Gave her some specific details of things you felt worked and didn’t work in your new design scheme. Maybe you could redirect her efforts to things you’d actually like.”
Grudge stands and looks around his home, as if seeing it with new eyes. “What would you do with the place?”
I glance around. “Honestly?”
He folds his hands over his chest. “Yes. Honestly.”
“I’d gut it and start again. The space is lovely. Between the large windows and the sliding doors out to the deck, it’s bright and light. I’d leave the two fireplaces. I’d put a closet to the left of the door, for coats and boots and things, to make that area neat. I’d get rid of the hutch thing, over there, and instead of the large rectangular table and chairs, I’d get a long narrow table and put benches on either side. It would lower the profile of the dining area and make it less visually distracting. Perhaps put it on a large jute rug to differentiate the space a little. And then, I’d put in a nice modern kitchen. Two ovens. I’d keep the big double-door chrome fridge because it’s really nice.”
Grudge grabs two cups and pours us both a steaming mug of coffee. “You’re hired. Make it happen.”
Something inside me shifts uncomfortably. I still haven’t seriously decided if I’m staying. Or maybe I just haven’t let my heart believe that coming home was ever going to be possible.
It’s like, when we divorced, Zach got the whole of Colorado in the split.
Anywhere quite like it was always going to remind me of how it could have been between the two of us, so I chose to live in the most opposite of places. A brick city with an intensivetransportation system and a plethora of restaurants, but no fresh air.
“Here,” he says, handing me the cup. “Thank you again for stepping in like that. With Catfish. With the FBI.”
“Is it a regular occurrence?”
Zach shakes his head. “Not really. We haven’t had a serious run-in with law enforcement for a good long while.”
“Is that because most of your enterprise is now legitimate?” I realize I’m asking the question with a lot of hope in my heart.
“You really want to know the answer to that?”
I shake my head, immediately feeling deflated. “Not really. But I’m glad I could help and that you thought to call me.”
