Five Ways to Fall (41 page)

“How’d it go with Jack?” he says over the rumble of his Volkswagen engine.

That’s why he called. He’s worried about his job. Of course he is. “Okay. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Really?” The doubt in his voice is unmistakable.

“Yeah. As long as you don’t tell everyone at work that you’re in love with me, you’ll be fine.”

He bursts out laughing. I bite my lip against the urge to ask why that’s so funny.

There’s a long moment of silence, where I expect him to say goodbye and secretly dread it.

And then I hear him ask, “Sing something to me.”

“What?”

“It’s a long drive and I’m fallin’ asleep. Sing me something before I crash.”

I try to keep the surge of warmth from exploding in my voice as I mutter, “Fine,” and drop into my beanbag chair. Setting my phone down and putting it on speaker, I pick up my guitar and begin picking at the strings haphazardly. “Any requests?”

“How about . . . ‘Achy Breaky Heart’? ‘Ice Ice Baby’?”

I roll my eyes. “None. Okay, then.” I settle in as I keep picking until a familiar tune surfaces and I find the words to “The Freshmen,” by The Verve Pipe, flowing out of my mouth.

It feels good to do this now. Not for show, not for revenge. Just for me.

And for Ben.

“You still awake?” I ask as the last note to that song fades.

“You bet, darlin’. Sing me another.” I feel my lips curl up in a warm smile as I pick another song.

By the time Ben pulls into the driveway at Wilma’s almost two hours later, my voice is getting raspy and my ass is numb. “It’s late. You’d better get some rest,” he says.

“Does it feel different now, being there?”

There’s a long pause. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t figured out how I feel about all this.” Much softer, I hear him add, “About a lot of things.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” I immediately bite my tongue. Was that too obvious?

“Good night, Reese.”

“Good night, Ben.” I hit the “end” button before I’m tempted to say something I’ll regret.

Chapter 30

BEN

“
This feels different
,” I admit to myself as I lie in bed, my head nestled within my arms, staring up at the ceiling of Elsie’s room.

And it has nothing to do with my dad being gone.

I wish Reese were lying next to me. I’m trying to tell myself that it’s because I just sat in the car for two hours listening to her sexy voice. I was grinning like an idiot the entire time.

And then, when I caught Mama in here tonight with her hands on the pillows, about to change the sheets, I hollered at her to stop. She patted my chest with a little smile and left quietly, leaving me to bury my face in Reese’s pillow to inhale the scent of strawberries and cream.

And now, here I am, thinking about kissing Reese tonight before I left her, and how much I didn’t want to leave her.

To be honest, I was expecting the novelty of Reese to wear off after Friday night; that finally getting her into my bed would have satisfied this intense urge that’s been driving me crazy for weeks. I mean, I’m a guy who likes the chase. That’s
always
been the case. But it’s not the case with Reese.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Now, I just want to hold onto her to keep her from getting away. And leaving her tonight, thinking about her possibly hooking up with that douchebag ex of hers, had my teeth grinding against each other. I know that part of it is her giving him the time of day after how much he hurt her. But most of it’s not, because when I think about her hooking up with
anyone
else, I feel the exact same tight ball forming in my stomach.

Yeah, things have definitely changed. I’m just not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.

“How’d you sleep, darling?” Mama asks from her seat on the back porch, one of Grandma’s knit blankets wrapped around her as she sips at her tea.

I lean in to lay a kiss on her head. “Out like a light, as usual. You know that.” Once my body shuts down, it takes a lot to wake me up. I was teasing Reese yesterday. If she was talking or doing anything else in her sleep, I have no fucking clue.

Mama smiles. “You always were my best sleeper. Such a happy, easy baby.”

I set my cup of coffee down on the small end table—another piece made by my father; the house is like a Joshua Morris museum—and settle myself into a chair. “When’s everyone getting here?”

“Elsie should be here this afternoon. Rob and Jake will be here Wednesday with their families. Josh, not until late Thursday. He can’t afford to lose time with work.” My oldest brother—my father’s namesake and arguably a chip off the old block—works as a crane operator in Chicago. At least
he’s
admitted that he has a drinking problem and is trying to get help. The medical bills, coupled with child support and alimony, mean he’s struggling to make ends meet in a shitty studio apartment in one of Chicago’s less desirable areas.

“It’s gonna to be a full house.”

“I know.” Mama smiles sadly. “It’s been a long time since I could say that.” She holds out a plate of cake. “Here, have some of this. We have twenty more waiting inside.”

“Neighbors have been good to us.” I gladly reach out and grab a piece, stuffing it into my mouth.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”

I moan in response. I never turn down sweets, though I probably should. If I ever stop working out, I’ll end up with a gut like Jack’s in no time.

“Hayley made it.”

“Who’s Hayley?” Crumbs fly out of my mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mama scolds. “Lorna’s daughter. She’s coming by to help pick. Yesterday’s harvest went over to the packing place this morning. They’ll be on the road by this afternoon.”

At least that’s taken care of. I still can’t believe Reese was out there that long, filling those crates. I could kiss her for it. Hell, I could kiss her for anything, but that’s as good an excuse as any.

There’s a pause. “There’s always room here for one more.”

I shoot her a confused look.

“Reese, son,” she clarifies with an exasperated sigh. “Why don’t you invite her to come up and stay with us.”

“Well, for one thing, because she works full time. Plus, why would she want to hang out here for an entire week while we get ready for a funeral?”

She takes a small sip of her tea. “Something tells me she would.”

Of course
. Which brings me to what I haven’t had a chance to say earlier. “Mama, you’ve gotta stop telling people that Reese is my girlfriend.”

“Oh, did that slip out accidentally?” She makes a show of dusting crumbs off her hand, her eyes averted.

“Just once or twice,” I mock softly, leaning back into my chair to stretch my feet out. “We’re just
friends
. I don’t need things to get confusing by putting labels on it.”

“You think the label’s going to change what’s going on?” I catch her lips curl into a smile, as if she knows some secret, but she hides it behind another sip. What the hell did those two women talk about out there yesterday? It was a sly move on Mama’s part. One minute she’s in the kitchen. Then I head to the can and she’s gone when I come out.

“How was dropping her off last night? Did your boss say anything about you two?”

“He offered his condolences and told me that family comes first.”

“Hmm . . . sounds like a good man,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, he is.” And I’m starting to feel guilty for what I’m doing with his stepdaughter, especially after our talk. He must have figured it out by now.

“Well, I’ve booked the funeral for Friday. Pastor Phillips said he can do it. I don’t want to bother with a visitation. I don’t expect many people . . .” Her voice drifts off and her gaze becomes distant.

“Not for him, anyway.” As soon as I see her flinch at my words, I regret it. I’ve been really careful not to talk like that, not to let any of my feelings come out. It only hurts her.

Reaching out, I take her hand in mine. “I’m going to phone the insurance company today and get everything sorted out. Okay?”

She nods slowly. “I didn’t realize how expensive funerals have become.”

“Don’t worry about that, Mama. I’ve got money to cover that until the insurance pays out.”

“Oh, I can’t take your—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

She peers up at me. “How’d I get so lucky to have a son like you?”

Getting up, I kiss her again. “Because you raised me to be like this. And because I made a lot of money taking care of naked women at Penny’s.”

“Oh, Ben.” She shakes her head but then starts to laugh softly.

“I’ll be out in the grove. Call my cell if you need anything.”

As I’m walking through the door and into the kitchen, Mama calls out, “I’d like Reese to come to the funeral. Do you think she’d come?”

I shake my head with resignation, knowing what the woman is up to. “I’m not sure, Mama. I’ll ask her.”

The familiar rumble and squeaky brakes of the farm truck comes to a stop behind the tractor. Assuming it’s Mama, I don’t bother turning around.

“Ben?” My name rolls off an unfamiliar female voice.

Turning on my heels, I watch a twenty-something-year-old girl with white-blond hair and mile-long legs slide out of the truck.

Slamming the heavy door shut, she walks forward, her hand out. “I’m Hayley Parker. I’m here to help pick.”

I accept it with a quick shake. “Yeah, right. Mama said you’d be by. Thanks for offering.”

Sidling up beside me, she slides her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as her blue eyes take in the tree in front of us. “I used to work on a citrus farm, so I have practice.”

“Perfect. Then I won’t make myself look like an ass by trying to train you.” She’s pretty, there’s no doubt about that, in an all-American-girl kind of way. I’ve had plenty of them.

Her smile does a flip into a full-lipped pout as she reaches out and lays a hand on my bicep. “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

With a nod, I turn back to pluck a few high tangerines.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asks, joining in to test and pull some fruit off the lower branches.

My hand freezes.
Shit
 . . . That sounds like a setup. She doesn’t look at all familiar and I’m usually good with the faces of women I’ve screwed around with. I hazard a glance at her, to
really
look at her. How the hell did I miss the perky set of tits staring out at me from beneath that tight pink T-shirt before? Probably because of those damn legs.

“You were a senior when I started high school,” Hayley finally elaborates.

“Did we . . . know each other?” That’s my covert way of asking, “Did I nail you?” Because I’d be surprised. Fourteen-year-olds didn’t do it for me when I was seventeen.

“No. I mean,
I
knew who
you
were.” Her voice trails off as she blushes, her fingers stretched over multiple pieces of fruit as she strolls over to a crate to gently lay them in.

“I went to every single one of your games. I had the biggest crush on you back then.”

And . . . there it is
.

I try to stifle my grin. She’s not the only one. I’m not trying to be a dick about it but when you open your locker to find folded love notes spilling out enough times, you can’t deny it. “You never said hi?” I tease.