Make You Miss Me by B. Celeste

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next time I stop in front of the raised ranch is a few weeks later, only this time it’s covered with white Christmas lights. I saw Dominic supervise as his father put them up last weekend. Then, a few days after, I saw the two of them carry a very real tree inside to decorate.

I knock on the red door after nobody responds to the doorbell. It’s noisy inside, a reminder of why I’m here. I tug on the collar of my jacket, then flatten the fabric out like I messed it up and try to ignore the negative emotions swirling inside the pit of my stomach. There are twice as many cars as there was last time he’d had company, which means anybody could be behind that door.

People I know mixed in with those I don’t.

And when the front door finally opens, it’s not Fletcher behind it. It’s another man, slightly shorter, with a dirty blond buzzcut like the homeowner’s who’s standing there smiling at me in jeans and a black Henley. “You hear to see boss man?”

Boss man?

I blink.

His lips stretch into an amused lopsided grin. “Sorry, sometimes I forget he has a different life now. You here to see Fletcher?”

This time, I nod at the man who must be around my age, if not a little younger. His face is kind, covered in light stubble, and offering a welcoming warmth that Fletcher’s expression rarely does unless a woman is sobbing in his bathroom.

Internally, I cringe at that reminder.

“I’m Ethan,” the man says, stepping aside and waving me in. “He said there’d probably be a few more people showing up. You a neighbor?”

I nod again. “I’m Stevie.”

“Huh. Like Stevie Wonder?”

Lifting a shoulder, I smile as he closes the door on the cold breeze behind him. “Or like Stevie Nicks.”

He simply stares, seemingly lost.

Definitely younger. Much younger.

Ethan brushes it off. “Well, boss man, Fletch, is in the kitchen. There’s plenty of food, drinks, whatever. You play cards? Come to think of it, he said someone new will be joining in this time. I thought he said Stephen, but…”

Oh. “Well, I’m not very good.”

His laugh is loud, rocking his shoulders, and earning us a couple of curious glances from other men around the room. “Probably shouldn’t admit that to the competition, babe.”

Babe. My nose scrunches a little as a new person appears behind Ethan, this one taller, casting a shadow on where I stand. “Enough with the flirting, peon.”

My eyes go up to the man who invited me to his little Christmas party poker game. It’s not just men here, but some women too. Based on how they’re grouped, maybe significant others of the men who look pretty similar to Fletcher and Ethan. Army men. I know them when I see them.

Ethan grins at me, winks then looks at Fletcher. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t know the territory had been claimed. I’ll scram. It was nice meeting you, Stevie. Can’t wait to beat your ass at poker later.”

He’s gone before I can process any of that, and Fletcher steps forward. “Glad you made it. Want some water? Or something warm?”

“I’ll take some coffee if you have it.”

He nods, gesturing toward the back. I follow him through the crowd, hearing him greet a few people, slap a few shoulders, smack one or two younger men upside the head before we’re in his kitchen.

It’s bigger than mine, with a lot fewer decorations and a lot more storage space. Like the rest of his downstairs, the cabinets are dark wood, the countertops a beautiful marble, appliances all stainless steel, and everything is neat and tidy even with the various food lining the countertops for guests.

“It’s a force of habit to keep everything super clean, isn’t it?” I ask as he grabs a coffee mug from one of the cabinets and walks over to a green thermos.

He looks over his shoulder. “I’ve always liked things organized. Being in the military definitely helped keep me that way. I’m lucky enough to have a kid who’s the same way, though it’s in his nature. He’s meticulous.”

“He probably learned to mimic you,” I guess, accepting the mug he passes me.

“Milk, creamer, and sugar are all over there.” He uses his chin to direct me over where there’s an assortment of things. “And yeah, Nicki has always tried doing whatever I did. Didn’t mind it so much when he was younger, now…”

My brows pinch as I pour vanilla creamer into my cup. “You don’t want him to now that he’s older?”

He looks contemplative. “Not sure I want him to follow in my footsteps, is all. Being autistic doesn’t make it impossible to enlist or join the military if he decides to. But there’d be rigorous tests he’d need to go through to figure out if he’s capable.”

He’s worried about his son. “I think you have a few years before you really need to worry about that, Fletcher.”

The noise he makes is doubtful. “You know, that’s only the second time you’ve called me by my name.”

I turn to him. “It is?”

A chin dip.

“Oh.”

“I like it,” he informs me, making me stare a little without blinking. Then, he moves on. “Do you want food, or do you want to play some cards?”

It takes a second to gather my bearings. “I think I’ll wait to eat.”

Following him over to the dining table set up similarly to when he showed me the game, I see a few other people sitting around it already with beer and food.

Feeling a little intimidated, I look at Fletcher and murmur, “Maybe I’ll watch this round.”

He looks down at me before nodding. “If that’s what you want. C’mere.” Pulling a chair up beside the one he sits on, he pats the cushion on it. “Sit by me. You can be my good luck charm.”

I stare at him in disbelief.

Then, he adds, “Figure if the marble can work for Nicki, having the real thing could up my chances at emptying these sorry ass’s pockets tonight.”

And then he grins.

Grins big and wide and cocky in a confident, sexy sort of way. One that makes it hard to turn down.

So, I sink onto the chair, suck in a breath when he hooks a foot around one of the legs and yanks it closer to him and hold my breath when our knees stay pressed together under the table.

He wins the first game, shooting me a wink that makes my ovaries quiver, and chuckles when the guys all groan as he collects his earnings.

Later, I overhear one of the other players grumble to another, “That fucker always loses.”

 

 

I never ended up playing a game, but sitting through two more rounds—the second where Fletcher won again, and the third when he finally lost—before I’d noticed Bex walk in. As soon as I spotted her, Fletcher bumped my arm and in that low tone, said, “I know you two are friends. Used to play poker with her husband. Thought it’d be good if you had some company here.”

I’m still thinking about his consideration even days later while I’m in my room preparing for winter break. I can’t help but smile. And as soon as Sonia caught the look on my face, she wouldn’t relent in prying as to what caused it.

“Maybe I’m excited about having some time off,” I tell her, looking out the window where small snowflakes start falling.

“No, it’s definitely not that.”

I eye her. “How do you know?”

She grins knowingly, sitting on the edge of my desk. “Because I know what it looks like to have a crush, and that look on your face is all about a guy.” Instantly, heat surfaces under my cheeks, making my coworker laugh. “I knew it! Who is it? Is it somebody from the school?”

The face I make makes her snort. “No. I don’t want to get another talk from Ms. Clifton about dating coworkers.”

Sonia tries holding in her laugh, but she fails. “Sorry, sorry.” She blows out a steady breath. “Does this mean you won’t be crushed when I tell you that Miles and that grad student he took out are going steady?”

I roll my eyes but smile. “I’m happy for Miles. He deserves someone better suited for him, and that wasn’t me.”

“Fair.” Her eyebrows arch. “So, are you going to tell me who the lucky guy is or not?”

“Sonia, there isn’t a guy.”

Which is true.

“You’re not crushing on anyone?” The doubt in her tone makes me want to laugh, but all I do is shake my head.

Whatever thoughts I’ve been having toward my neighbor don’t necessarily classify in the ‘crush’ territory. Fletcher Miller is a kind man, a loving father, and has a lot of passion for things I respect him for. No matter his past with things I’d like to forget about, I admire him and can see why my ex did as well.

“No,” I tell her. “No crush.”

Her shoulders drop, and disappointment takes over her face. “Damn, I’m usually not wrong about these things. Maybe it’s good break is coming up. I can catch up on sleep and get recharged.”

I feel a little bad that I didn’t divulge anything about Fletcher or my personal life, but I haven’t even told Vickie yet that I’ve been spending time with him. She’d flay me alive if I held out on her while I gossiped with my coworkers about men.

Men with nice biceps and pretty smiles, and intense eyes that look at me a little too closely for comfort.

I go with, “I think we all could use a little recharge. Do you have plans with family for Christmas?”

She makes a face. “Yeah, we’re all meeting at my sister’s place this year. It wouldn’t be so bad if her satanic children were taught manners Her daughter doesn’t know the word ‘no’ and my sister gets all fed up whenever somebody scolds her for doing something she shouldn’t.”

I frown. “That’s not good.”

“And what’s worse,” she drones, “is that they’re all vegetarians. Can you believe that, Stevie? So, instead of delicious honey-glazed ham or golden-brown turkey, we’re getting tofurkey, and this nasty broccoli casserole that everyone pretends is great, even though we all secretly want to spit it out into our napkins.”

My lips threaten to waver into a smile over her dramatics. “Why don’t you bring side dishes for the people who aren’t vegetarian?”

She waves it off. “We drown out the taste in wine, get buzzed, and finally start having a decent time. Plus, I bought my niece a karaoke machine that way she can sing to her cold heart’s desire and annoy the living hell out of my sister since she thinks her kids so perfect.”

I snort. “That’s evil.”

“But well deserved,” she replies with a devious smile. Pushing off the desk, she asks, “I know you said you were going to your parents, so I hope you have fun. Eat some turkey and try picturing my miserable face knowing I’ll be downing wine to get the taste of the fake kind out of my mouth.”

Shaking my head, I wave her off and get back to finishing up for the day. I’m looking forward to the mini vacation. Sleeping in, doing things around the house, and seeing my family. Vickie wants to check out a new restaurant that opened close to my hometown, so I promised I’d go with her since she refuses to go out to eat by herself.

Plus, it may be good to get away from the house and the neighbor that I find myself checking on from the window like some sort of curious creep.