Stirred: A Love Story (31 page)

“Sage.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. We both know things are said when a person drinks too much. Before you say something we will both regret, please rest. I’ll have you home soon.”

He let out a sigh and fell quiet for a moment before saying softly, “I love you, Sage Jeffries.”

Damn him.

By the time Garrett started snoring, they were home. She left him on the couch because she didn’t have the will to bring him to his bed. Too much had happened in that bed. The simple act of opening his front door, kissing Jack, and getting Garrett’s boots off before he told her one more time how much he’d screwed up and how much he loved her had drained all her strength. Letting Jack out back to run around, she stood on Garrett’s deck, suddenly flooded with memories.

The Saturday she came over when he was giving Jack a bath that ended with both of them soaked and laughing so hard they could barely breathe. The night she came over because she needed him. They’d made love and had sat outside, near the very spot she now stood, wrapped in blankets. That was the night she learned Garrett collected comic books when he was a kid before he sold his collection to buy his truck back in high school. That was the night she gave him a crash course on how to play bridge and he had carried her over his shoulder back to bed. Firsts. Sage closed her eyes on the night sky, as if she could block out the stars and the memories of what was and what she could no longer have—unless she was willing to accept she would never have all of him.

Whistling for Jack, she wondered if she was doing the same, if some great guy would tell her she was holding back. Maybe she and Garrett were always drawn together in their reluctance to connect. She was the fun bartender with a crush. He could play when he wanted, so long as she never wanted more. He was a vision; a character in her mind, and that suited her because she only had to deal with glimpses of his world, which left all kinds of time for her solitary bottom drawer. They’d worked until she wanted more than the banter and he wanted her on the side.

Sage crouched to pet Jack, collar jingling as he panted happily. She kissed him on his nose and felt the familiar burn in her eyes. It was time to leave. Strange how homes were like time lines, she thought. Even if there weren’t snapshots of memories on the mantel, the feel, the smell of it managed to remind her. All the love and pain, the laughter and the arguments, were stored between the walls of a home, floating in the spaces. It was hard enough that every time she looked at her couch she still saw him there, or no matter how many times she washed her sheets, she swore he was there in the early hours of the morning. That was hard and yet somehow manageable. But it was late, and being surrounded by the extra moonlight and the stars that had watched them fall in love was too much.

Sage locked the back door and covered Garrett with the blanket folded on one end of the couch. He rolled into the cushions, pulling one under his head. She wondered if he would dream. Resisting the pull to kiss his cheek, she reminded herself that he might look harmless, but it had become about so much more than his looks. She gestured for Jack—now curled at the foot of the couch—to stay, and left Garrett and their memories safely locked away.

Chapter Thirty-Three

G
arrett was late for work for the first time. . . ever. His head had been reenacting that Broadway show where the people banged on trashcans. Kenna had dragged him to it a few years back, but now, as he walked into the greenhouse a little after ten, he remembered why he rarely drank anymore. Squinting even behind his sunglasses, he slowly sipped his coffee as his father walked in.

“Morning,” his father said, unzipping his jacket. “It’s warm in here.”

Garrett slowly looked up.

“Don’t give me that smart-ass look, I know it’s a greenhouse. I’m saying it seems warmer.”

“It’s probably all this new life. Did you see the tomatoes? Logan is going to shit his pants.”

They both laughed and then Garrett winched in pain.

“A little too much to drink last night?”

He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “You already know.”

“Yeah, it’s not my fault you picked that bar. News travels fast.”

Garrett carefully opened his eyes and decided there was nothing else he could say. His life was a fishbowl.

“Might be our best year yet.” His dad said, walking up the aisle. “Everything going according to schedule? I noticed George is stepping up quite a lot lately.”

“He is. I know we pay him, but I swear the man would do what he does for free.”

“I’m not so sure Angela would be happy about that. I was thinking maybe we should give him more money and let him take on more of the operation.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the money, but I think he has enough on his plate.”

“I spoke with him last week, and he said he’d be up for more responsibility.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“You’re screwing this up,” his father said, and Garrett knew immediately they were no longer talking about crops.

“And you know that, how?”

“I’ve been in love. Twice. Both times different, but I know what it looks like, how it feels.”

Garrett set his coffee down on the paint-stained worktable.

“She’s so good for you, Garre. And you love her, but I think you’ve been lonely for so long that maybe you’re not sure how to be any different.”

“I’m not lonely.”

“Sure you are, we all are. It’s never more glaring than it is once we’re loved.”

He carefully glanced at his father. “Oprah?”

“No, those are my words actually, but I’m sure O would say they’re worthy of an
ah-ha moment
.”

“Christ.”

“What? It’s true. You’re so busy being this place and standing silently by while your brother and sister go on living a life that you’re almost invisible, son. All the while, pretty, happy Sage noticed you. She saw you standing there, and from what Kenna tells me, she can see everything you are.”

“Dad, I appreciate the pep talk, but I’m not like Kenna or Logan.”

“I know. You were older when your mom left. It affects you differently. That, and you love the farm. Which I respect so much, Garre. Don’t get me wrong, what you’ve done over the years, the time and work put in, it’s what we needed. I’m so proud of you, son.”

“It’s a group effort, always has been.”

“I know, but there’s a time for everything. The group is changing, your brother’s married now and Kenna—”

Garrett could feel the tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about any of this because his father was right. His past was all he’d ever known, the routine of farming, the comfort of the same thing, give or take, year after year. He took off his glasses, cursed the sunlight, and wiped his eyes.

“It’s change, Garre. Kenna has someone else to help protect her now and Lo got to go off and be the man we all knew he could be. But he’s home now too. We have help now.”

“I know, and I’m happy for them.”

“I know you are, but it’s time for you to get yours. Find some balance and love her all the way. We’ll all still be here for you.”

“Jesus, Dad,” Garrett said, now with the balls of his hands pressing up against his eyes, “you sound like a therapist.”

His father laughed. “Well, the other night when we were in bed, Libby said—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.”

He laughed again and Garrett caught his father’s eyes, saw himself in them, and like he had when he was a kid, he found direction, a gentle guidance that allowed him to make his own shadow rather than getting trapped under his father’s. He put his glasses back on and decided to take the rest of the day off.

“Well if that isn’t the tables turned, I’m not sure what is,” Kenna said, sitting at the end of Sage’s bar that afternoon. “Did you tell him you didn’t think of him that way?”

Sage laughed as she shook a martini for a table out on the floor. “No, I put him to bed.”

“Oh, is it wrong that I want to go over there eating a disgustingly greasy pork sandwich and slam all the doors?”

“Yes, that’s awful.”

Kenna shrugged. “Eh, he’d do worse if it were me.”

Sage stepped away to cash out two couples.

“Are you okay?” Kenna asked when she returned.

She feigned reflection and for what felt like the hundredth time, she lied. “Yes, I think I am.”

“Fantasy shattered?”

She nodded.

“Well, that’s good. Maybe he can rebuild into something more substantial now.”

Sage wanted to say something, to tell her friend it was over between her and Garrett, that she was working on accepting and she hoped it wasn’t going to be awkward.

“How’s Chris?”

Okay, so much for worrying.

“He’s good. We’re going to the theater on Friday.”

“So you finally accepted a date. Nice. He seems very. . .”

“Nice?” Sage said, shaking her head and cashing out another couple.

Kenna laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with nice.”

“Oh, okay. Then why aren’t you marrying the dog guy you dated? He was nice.”

“First of all, that was an isolated incident of a crazy man, and we did not date. I went on one date, half a date. Chris is not crazy and he does the same things you like to do.”

“He does.”

“Do you think you’ll have a sexy story for Sunday coffee?”

“No! It’s the first date. I’m not jumping into bed with him. Come on.”

Kenna quietly returned to her laptop.

“What?” Sage said after a few moments of silence.

“You’re not okay.”

“Why, because I don’t want to have sex on the first date?” Sage was still whispering the word “sex” more like a librarian than a bartender. “I’m fine. It takes some time to. . . get over things.”

“Maybe you’re never going to get over it.”

“Don’t wish that on me—that’s cruel.”

“I’m only saying, if he gets his act together, maybe he’s the person for you.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do. I have to believe he’s going to make this right.”

“That’s because he’s your brother. You want him to be happy, but I need to be happy too.”

“I know. It’s the strangest thing watching the two of you in pain. I know you both have to go through this, but I want to make it better, and I can’t.” Kenna wiped a tear away from her face.

“Hey”—Sage leaned across the bar and took her hand—“it’ll be fine. We need to give it time. People live through much worse and there are no mistakes. Life is a continuous journey, like a river.”

Kenna furrowed her brow. “What book are we onto now?”

“
Liquid Living
.”

“Sorry? Like fish?”

Sage laughed. “Like stream of consciousness. You are what you think, that sort of thing.”

“Haven’t we already covered that in like. . . the last fifty books?”

“Each one is a little different.”

Kenna wiped another tear away.

“Please don’t be upset. I’m fine.”

“Look at you comforting me. You are nice, Sage. There’s not a damn thing you can do about that.”

Adding a few ice cubes to her mixing glass, Sage knew her friend was right. Nice, it appeared, was to be her curse, or her gift, depending on how she chose to look at it. Either way, Kenna had been right about a lot of things. Everyone had a basic core that couldn’t be changed without messing up everything else. She’d wanted a change and in doing so, she’d fallen and broken her heart. Garrett had failed to accept change, and Sage guessed that came with consequences he’d have to deal with if he ever chose to even notice them.

Sage wiped down her bar and kissed Kenna on the cheek as she left to pick up Paige.

You’re fine
, she told herself, and suddenly Sage knew that fine would have to be enough.

Chapter Thirty-Four

G
arrett knocked on the door, takeout from Sesame Garden in hand, but this time he’d left Jack at home. It had been almost a month since she’d driven his drunk ass home and Garrett had racked his brain for an answer. Finally, he decided the only way to fix things was to talk. He had never said enough, shared his feelings when they were together before. This time would be different. They’d make it work; it
had
to work. Footsteps approached the door and his heart charged to his ribcage.