Page 27 of Revelry
“And that’s fine,” Momma Von said, standing. “I respect that. And you don’t have to give him attention.” She tilted her head down, looking pointedly at me over her nose. “But you do have to give him an apology.”
My stomach turned and I tucked my knees in closer like they’d protect me, like they’d get up the nerve to apologize to Anderson for me. Because even though I hated it, Momma Von was right. There was no excuse for what I said last night.
Momma Von gave me a sympathetic, understanding smile before rounding the bed and heading for the stairs. “There’s a full pot of coffee downstairs,” she said, pausing on the top stair. “And, please, take a shower before you go see him. You smell worse than the homeless boy I dated in my hippy days.”
I let out one short laugh, and she winked at me before descending, leaving me alone in the bed I’d made.
I took my time showering, drinking another cup of coffee while I dressed and put on my makeup before switching over to the bottle of water Momma Von had given me. I curled my hair, put on my favorite lipstick, and tried on four different outfits before settling on a white, off-the-shoulder sun dress with a high slit. It was peppered with dark red peonies and I loved the way it hugged my shoulders, drawing attention to my exposed collar bone.
It was sunny out, but the temperature was hovering somewhere right under seventy., so I grabbed a light cardigan just in case and tossed it over my arm to use when the nerves settled and my body cooled.
And when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t feel even two percent ready to do what I had to do.
I hated saying sorry, mostly because I’d said it so much in the past few years that the word made me sick. I’d apologized for who I was, who Iwasn’t, for trying and failing or not trying at all. But the difference was that this wasn’t Keith, and I actually had something to apologize for.
Thankfully, it took a little while to track Anderson down. The entire time I wandered around, asking where he might be, I dried my sweaty palms on my dress and recited what I’d say in my head. My throat still felt tight when I finally found him, and everything I thought I’d say flew away the moment I saw the muscles in his arms catching the light and the shadows as he worked under the hood of old man Ron’s truck. I pulled my eyes away from the way his dark jeans hung off his hips and focused them instead on the hard line of his jaw, the same one I’d traced with my eyes a million times in the fire light the night before.
He didn’t notice me when I walked up, didn’t even stop working for a millisecond, so I cleared my throat, and he and Ron both stopped tinkering at the same time.
Anderson looked up at the same time Ron pushed himself from under the truck, and where his brows rose in surprise, Anderson’s dipped in accusation.
Ron, being the man of many words that he was, simply used the bumper to climb to his feet, dusted off his hands on his pants, and clapped Anderson on the shoulder. He turned to me only for a second, long enough to give a curt nod, then he disappeared inside his cabin, leaving me alone with Mr. Approachable.
Who went right back to working.
“Hi,” I tried first, aiming for casual, yet a little sheepish. “How are you?”
Anderson’s scowl was so deep it practically made a valley between his eyebrows, and he didn’t respond, didn’t look at me, just kept doing whatever it was he was doing under that hood.
I huffed, adjusting the cardigan that hung over my arms before crossing them over my stomach. “Look, I don’t want to bother you. I know you have a lot going on and the last thing you want is to talk to some girl passing through your town.”There, that was a little more real.“I just wanted to apologize. About last night—”
“It’s fine,” he clipped, tossing one tool into the old red box I’d seen him carrying the week before with a clunk before picking up another one.
“No, it’s not.”
He dipped back under the hood and my eyes flicked to where his fern green t-shirt edged up, revealing an inch of tanned skin just above his waistline.
I took one deep breath, closed my eyes, and started talking. “Rev is my cat’s name. Well, not reallymycat, but the neighborhood cat who found me the first night I got here. He has this dreadfully loud and croaky purr, sounds like an old motor, so I named him Rev.” I shook my head. “Not that you need the whole backstory. What I’m trying to say is that I know now why that upset you, that it wasn’t my question but the name. And I don’t know everything,” I assured him, because his hands had stopped moving, and one of them gripped the new tool in his hand too tight for comfort. “I promise, I’m not trying to butt into your business.”
The muscle in his jaw popped, his breath loud as he started working again. He didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t tell me to go away, so naturally, I kept talking.
“I just really am sorry. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was so messed up. I’d never tried marijuana before and Tucker had this joint and—”
“You’re right,” Anderson snapped, standing straight and facing me for the first time. His chest was streaked with grease, and it heaved, his breath hard and steady. “It’s not an excuse. You think I don’t see girls like you come through here all the time? Trying tofind themselves?” He scoffed, bright blue eyes as cold as the icy words he spewed. “You get wasted every night, try a few drugs, go naked in the hot tub like it’s the most original thing in the world. Well, I don’t care what you do, Wren, but whatever it is, for however long you’re here for, just leave me out of it.”
He growled, throwing the tool in his hand against the back of his toolbox. It rebounded and fell inside with a clank and I flinched, nose flaring, eyes on the ground. For a moment I just stood there, him staring at me, willing me to fight back. And when I lifted my eyes to his and saw the challenge in them, I almost did.
But I was done wasting my time fighting boys who wanted to be treated like men.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I whispered, sniffing back the tears that threatened to break and tucking my arms tighter around my middle. “And I take back my apology. You are an asshole.”
With that, I turned on my heels, held my head high, and took one step closer to the woman I wanted to be.
My blood boiled higher in temperature with every step she took away from Ron’s cabin. I watched, too—because apparently self-punishment is on my very short list of hobbies.
It was like her strappy sandals were tied to my heart beat. She stomped, my heart thumped—over and over. And every pump sent a fresh wave of heat through me, so when she rounded the trees at the edge of Ron’s drive and disappeared, I roared, slamming my fists on the old wooden table where my toolbox sat before grabbing the wrench I’d just thrown in there and getting back to work.
Every crank was exaggerated and I grunted, teeth clenched together so hard my jaw ached. It was stupid, because I wasn’t even mad at her—not at all, not anymore. Once she explained why she’d said my old nickname, I’d lost the reason to be angry—until she breathedTucker’sname, that is.
