Page 25 of Heart of Glass


  “Not at all,” he replied, his back to us as he washed up. “But you ain’t doing anything here but sitting on your ass. Might as well go for a visit.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to,” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Or maybe you do,” he shot back.

  Morgan’s mouth snapped shut as she glared at his back, then turned accusing eyes toward me. I didn’t let the look bother me, but I filed the fact that she didn’t like feeling cornered into my memory. Keeping my expression passive, I returned her stare.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said finally.

  “Good.”

  “That’s not a yes,” she mumbled.

  “Not a no, either,” I pointed out.

  With a huff, she left the kitchen.

  “Damn, son,” Stan said as soon as we were alone. “Do I have to help you with everything?”

  “What’s your stake in this, old man?” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Just want my girl happy,” he said, crossing his own arms. “Think she’ll be happy with you.”

  “Look who’s awake,” Morgan said just seconds later.

  “Twevo!” Etta yelled, galloping toward me.

  “Hey,” I replied, pulling her into my arms as she flung her little body in my direction. “Did you have a good nap?”

  “No,” she said easily. She reached up and petted my beard with both hands as she continued. “Me no like naps.”

  “Sometimes our body just needs a rest,” I replied, watching her expressive little face as she parted my beard and smoothed it under her fingertips.

  “Me no need west. Me need bananas and hot dogs and fwench fwies,” she said seriously.

  “That’s an odd mix.”

  “Me like nuggets, too.”

  “Chicken nuggets?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I like those, too,” I said, nodding a little when her eyes rose to meet mine. “I like to dip them in sauce.”

  “Me no like sauce,” she said apologetically, shaking her head from side to side like she thought I was a little crazy but she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. “Me just like nuggets.”

  “Fair enough,” I murmured, tilting my head a little as she pulled on one side of my beard. “You like my beard?”

  She replied in gibberish, and I had a feeling she’d used up the number of English words she was willing to give me. When I looked up from her sweet face, my eyes immediately caught Morgan’s.

  “Just a short visit,” she said, her eyes soft. “And I’m driving my car.”

  “Why would we drive two cars?”

  “Because I want my own,” she said. I opened my mouth to respond, but stayed silent as she walked forward. She kissed Etta on the back when she reached us, then slid her hand along my side as she moved around us. “I should probably pack.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at my lips as I turned to follow her down the hallway, ignoring Stan’s snort of amusement and the little fingers pulling at my beard. I watched Morgan’s ass as she moved in front of me, and could barely contain my excitement. I was going to have her all to myself.

  * * *

  The drive north completely sucked. I followed behind Morgan most of the way, and the woman drove like a geriatric. I didn’t understand how she’d learned to drive in California but refused to drive more than five miles over the speed limit. Between her leisurely pace and the number of times we had to stop to let Etta out of the car, it took us a good three hours longer than it should have.

  By the time we pulled into my driveway that night, all of us were cranky, tired, and more than ready to stretch our legs a bit. Etta ran circles in the driveway until she heard the puppy practically howling and took off around the house to find him, her mother following behind at a much slower pace. Koda was going crazy in his dog run because I’d told Ani that we’d be home that night and she hadn’t come to take him inside to sleep.

  I ran a hand over my face and hit the garage door opener as I followed them. I had a feeling none of us would be getting any rest for a while, even though it was already after midnight.

  “Puppy!” Etta yelled over and over until I unlatched his gate.

  “Jesus,” Morgan mumbled as Koda stumbled into the yard and Etta dropped to her hands and knees to copy him. “I shouldn’t have let her sleep for the last couple of hours.”

  “Debatable,” I joked. “Listen to her whine in a confined space, or sit on the back porch and let her wear herself out with a puppy. I’d choose puppy.”

  “You’re probably right,” she snickered, smiling as she glanced my way.

  Since she’d agreed to come stay for a while, we’d been tiptoeing around each other. I’d sat on her bed and watched her pack, giving tips and generally making a nuisance of myself, but I’d barely touched her again before I’d left for my hotel last night. This morning I’d barely been able to say hello before we’d hit the road, and I hadn’t had a minute alone with her since.

  She sat down on the back porch steps as Etta chased Koda across the grass, and I smiled at the picture she made. The back porch light was glinting off her blond hair but her face was in shadow, making her look like some sort of phantom.

  “You look exhausted,” I said, stretching my arms above my head. “I’m going to go open up the house.”

  As soon as she nodded, I hurried back around front and started carrying all of our bags onto the front porch. I only had the one suitcase, but Etta and Morgan had three, and they were big. I hoped that meant Morgan was planning on staying awhile, but I hadn’t asked her when I’d seen them in her car earlier. Part of me wanted to just get it out in the open and tell her that I wanted her to stay indefinitely, but the other part, the smarter part, knew that if I pushed her, she’d push back. I was picking my battles.

  “They slowing down yet?” I asked, poking my head out the back door a few minutes later.

  “You just scared the crap out of me!” Morgan hissed, laughing breathlessly. “Good grief, it’s dark out here in the boonies.”

  “You’ve got the porch light,” I pointed out, teasing her a little.

  “A single lightbulb isn’t exactly the same as streetlights every thirty feet,” she argued, walking into the yard. She picked up Koda and grabbed Etta’s hand, helping her walk up the stairs. “It’s franking quiet out here.”

  “Oh, are we back to franking?”

  “I’m trying, all right?” she said, shaking her head a little as she handed me the pup. “Sometimes the other ones slip out. It’s my dad’s influence.”

  “I’ll have a talk with Stan.”

  “Oh.” She laughed, ushering Etta into the house. “Please do. Let me watch.”

  As soon as I’d shut the door behind them, I turned to see Etta’s face scrunched up in the cutest scowl I’d ever seen in my life.

  “Me not tired,” she said conversationally.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

  “Me awake and me happy.” She grinned huge, showing off her mouthful of baby teeth.

  “Is that right?” Morgan asked, tilting her head to the side in amusement.

  “That right,” Etta replied, wrinkling her nose.

  “Mama’s tired.”

  Etta shrugged and looked at me.

  “Uncle Trev’s tired, too,” I told her with a nod.

  “Koda not tired.”

  I coughed to cover the laugh that I couldn’t hold back. The puppy was already completely limp and snoring in my arms.

  “M-O-V-I-E?” I asked Morgan out of the side of my mouth.

  She nodded and followed me into the living room, where I was glad to see that Ani really had cleaned up. If I wasn’t mistaken, she’d even polished the coffee table.

  “Trevor,” Morgan said, stopping short of the couch as she stared at the suitcases right inside the door. “You didn’t have to bring those in.”

  “It took two seconds,” I replied with a shrug. I didn’t want to make a big
deal out of it, but I was treating Stan’s words like gospel. Surprisingly, it felt really good to step in and help when the other person didn’t expect it. At some point Morgan was going to notice what I was doing, and I was sure she’d have plenty to say about it. Until that time came, I was just going to keep doing stuff for her whenever I saw an opportunity.

  I sat down on the couch with Koda while Morgan changed Etta into a fresh diaper and some pajamas. A few minutes later, we were lined up on the couch with a princess movie on the TV, and Etta was scooting closer and closer into my side. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to get closer to me or to the puppy in my lap. Leaning back a little, I lifted my arm above her and laid it across the back of the couch so I could run my fingers over the back of Morgan’s neck.

  As the woman I loved relaxed more and more against my hand, I increased the pressure on her neck, massaging it until I was practically holding her head in my palm. Etta fell asleep less than half an hour into the movie, but Morgan and I didn’t move from our places on the couch. We just sat there, staring blankly at the TV screen, while the puppy and the baby slept peacefully between us.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into coming here,” she said after a while, her voice low. “I have a million things I should be doing in Sacramento.”

  “You regretting it already?” I asked, rolling my head to the side to look at her.

  “Actually, no,” she replied, her lips tipping up at the corners. “I’m really glad we’re here.”

  “Me too,” I said, giving the back of her neck a gentle squeeze. “You think you’ll stay awhile?”

  “At least long enough for your mom to visit Etta,” she said, half joking.

  The reminder had me holding back a grimace. My mom still hadn’t made contact, and Morgan had no idea how bad it actually was. I’d mentioned the argument to her when I’d first shown up at her house, but we hadn’t discussed it since. I was dreading Morgan’s reaction once she knew that my mom wasn’t speaking to me because of our relationship. She didn’t need an extra reason to push me away; she’d been doing that just fine on her own.

  “If you stay longer than that, I’ll make you coffee in the morning,” I promised, running my fingers through her hair.

  “Breakfast, too?”

  “And lunch,” I agreed. “Dinner, even.”

  “That’s hard to pass up.”

  “Then don’t.” Her face was illuminated blue and green from the light of the TV and I couldn’t help but run my thumb over the curve of her cheek. She was so beautiful, even when she was rolling her eyes at me.

  “I should probably get her in bed,” she whispered, changing the subject like she always did.

  It didn’t bother me like it had in the past. I wasn’t sure if it was the setting, or the way her eyes lingered on my face, but the knot in my belly that usually showed up when she shied away from me was absent.

  “I’ll carry her in,” I replied, letting the moment pass.

  That night I didn’t even mind going to bed alone. The house felt alive for the first time since I’d moved in. As I stripped down and crawled between the sheets, I could hear Morgan singing softly to Etta across the hall.

  “Etta, my baby, you’re sleepy and it’s time to rest. Tomorrow you can play all day. Koda is sleeping and Uncle Trevor is sleeping, so sleeping would probably be best.”

  I grinned into the darkness.

  Chapter 18

  Morgan

  It’s about time you called me,” I said into the phone as I watched Etta splash in a puddle in Trevor’s backyard. “After leaving like an asshole.”

  “I’m sorry,” Miranda replied, sighing in exasperation. “But I didn’t want to get into it with you.”

  “You could have at least left a note.”

  “Well, yeah,” she grumbled. “But I didn’t think about it.”

  “Too busy sneaking out with all of your earthly possessions?” I asked.

  “I only took a backpack,” she replied drily. “The rest of it is stored in Dad’s garage.”

  “I looked!”

  “I put it with the Christmas shit so you wouldn’t go snooping for clues.”

  “I’ve seen everything you own,” I shot back. “And I wouldn’t have snooped.”

  “You totally would have,” she argued, chuckling a little. “I just needed to get out of that house, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I replied. I’d given it a lot of thought on the long drive north, and I couldn’t really blame my sister for wanting to escape. But the way she’d gone about it still annoyed me. “You had to go with Frances, though?”

  “You’re the only person he lets get away with that shit,” she mumbled back. “You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He loves me, blah blah.”

  “He’s not quite the monster you make him out to be.”

  “I don’t think he’s a monster,” I snapped. Etta glanced at me, and I smiled through gritted teeth to reassure her. “I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ll just have to deal,” she replied.

  “Tell me you’re joking.” The silence on the other end of the line gave me my answer. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I can handle it,” she said finally. “Besides, you have no room to talk.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Where are you right now?” she asked, chuckling. “Let me guess. Somewhere in the wilds of Oregon?”

  “You called Dad first?” I asked indignantly.

  “I knew I’d get a better reception,” she replied.

  “Oh, I bet. He lets you get away with anything.”

  “And he’s so different with you?”

  I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me.

  “So, you’re at Trevor’s,” she said, humming. “How’s that going?”

  “We just got here last night,” I replied, pulling my knees up so I could pull my oversized hoodie over my legs. “So far, it’s been good.”

  “And where did you sleep?”

  “In the guest room, nosy.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because I’m a guest?”

  “Don’t play stupid.”

  “Because,” I ground out. “He hasn’t made a move.”

  “So?”

  “So, I think he’s waiting.”

  “For what, marriage? You guys have already done the deed.”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed and leaned my head back against the chair I was sitting in. “He made coffee and pancakes this morning, and then went in to work for a couple hours. He kissed me good-bye, but it was pretty platonic.”

  “I can’t imagine those lips being platonic about anything.”

  “Don’t imagine his lips at all,” I ordered.

  “Calm down, tiger,” she replied. “You know my tastes run a little more toward long-haired bikers.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “So, what?” she asked. “You’re just friends?”

  “No.” That, at least, I was sure about. “He told his family that he wants to marry me.”

  “Say what?” she practically yelled.

  “No kidding.”

  “Jumping the gun a little, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t think he was completely serious.”

  “Does Trevor seem like a guy that says stuff he doesn’t mean?”

  “No.”

  “Well.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea,” I confessed. The idea of marrying anyone terrified me. Hell, the thought of just living with someone terrified me. Marriage was huge, epic, life altering.

  “He loves you,” Miranda said softly. “That’s big.”

  “I know.”

  I watched Etta in the yard, getting muddy as hell and as happy as I’d ever seen her. This could be our life—the man, the house, the dog, the unending yard
to play in—it could be our reality if I just reached out and took it.

  “Do you love him?” Miranda asked.

  “How do I know?”

  “You’ll know,” she replied instantly.

  * * *

  That afternoon Etta and I rode into town with Trevor to get groceries and some clothes for Etta to wear outside. I’d realized a little too late that her leggings and tennis shoes were not cut out for country living. By the time she’d come inside for a warm bath, both had been stained beyond repair by the clay that was mixed in with the dirt around the house.

  According to Trevor, she needed some rain boots and jeans if she was going to be a country girl, and since she only had a pair of sandals left after the mess she’d made earlier, I accepted the idea gracefully. That was how we ended up in the shoe department of the local store, trying shoes on a two-year-old who wanted no part in the process.

  “Etta, which ones do you like?”

  “Me like cookies,” she replied.

  “I know,” I replied, sitting her on the bench for the fifteenth time. “But you already got a cookie and now it’s time for boots. Which boots do you like?”

  She didn’t bother answering as I shoved her feet into some pink princess boots.

  “Me like those,” she said, pointing to a different pair as soon as I’d gotten the pink boots on her feet.

  “Here you go,” Trevor said, handing me the green crocodile boots she was pointing at.

  I switched the boots and helped Etta down from the bench, even though she’d proven over and over that she could do it herself. After she’d walked back and forth a few times, she pointed to the pink boots again.

  “Me like those.”

  “I thought you liked the green ones?” I asked, running out of patience. I didn’t know why I’d even asked for her opinion. She was two years old, for Pete’s sake. She wouldn’t care if I dressed her in a monkey suit every day.

  “Me like those,” she repeated, pointing to the princess boots.

  “Okay.” I had slipped the green boots off her feet and started to put her sandals back on when all hell broke loose.

  “No, me like those,” she cried, pointing to the princess boots again. “Me like those!”

  “I know,” I replied, trying to shush her.