Make You Miss Me by B. Celeste
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The house feels too empty, too quiet, reminding me of the reason I almost missed my shot at buying it.
I hadn’t known what I was looking for or what to ask when I set up the appointment to meet the realtor, so I made my parents come with me. They both have experience with house buying, and while I should too, I’d always let Hunter take the lead on the homes we’d lived in. They were mostly rentals, anyway, with everything included—utilities, maintenance, lawn care. Being thrust into the world of homeownership responsibilities had hit me like a ton of bricks the second my parents drove us back to their place to discuss the pros and cons of the property after we’d seen it.
What’s funny is that after leaving, I felt certain I’d put in an offer. I loved it from the moment I clicked through the pictures online that the realtor posted. I loved it even more in person—the open layout, the light color scheme, the beautiful hardwood flooring, and the location. It was quaint, not too far from work or from any major store or restaurant I liked, and it didn’t have a lot of traffic besides residential.
But the second my mind started wrapping around the possibility of me putting in an offer, putting down the money, and making the huge step forward for myself…I chickened out. While my parents helped me talk out why to make a move or not, I’d been trapped inside my own head. I had a total panic attack the second I shut myself in my room after replaying something I’d said aloud to them during our discussion.
“Is it too big for me and where I am in my life right now?” I don’t think Mom had heard the crack in my voice as I voiced the concern, but Dad did. He’d looked into the rearview mirror and gave me a comforting smile like he knew I was having second thoughts.
I always thought I’d have someone to share the experience with when I bought my first home—somebody else to take half the stress off my shoulders during the process that way I didn’t feel so…helpless. Somebody to take on half the financial responsibility that way I didn’t feel like I had so much piled on my shoulders alone. And knowing that I didn’t have that, not Hunter or any other dating prospect that could truly be there for me, help me grow, and fill the space that seemed so massive for one person, had been a hard pill to swallow.
It’d taken hours of conversation with Vickie, Mom, and Dad for me to finally make the decision to put an offer in. And even now, I’m a little embarrassed I’d let my loneliness get the better of me, let me almost miss out on something great. Because I’m stronger than that need for companionship, than that need to have someone in my life to help take care of me when I’m more than capable of doing it alone.
That’s why I’m upset with myself for sitting in my living room, feet tucked under me on the couch, and warm coffee cup clenched in hand, feeling sorry for myself.
Feeling like the house is too big.
Too quiet.
Too much.
There are rooms I paid to furnish and pay to heat that goes untouched. Areas that collect dust because of lack of use and other spaces are probably too clean because nobody goes in them.
I’m confined by four walls with nothing but my thoughts and the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, and that gives me time to think. And thinking isn’t always the best way to spend time because then I start remembering things—old memories of people no longer in my life. Experiences. Comparisons.
I start thinking about how the house I used to live in was 500-square-feet smaller than the one I’m in now, except I shared that space with someone, which made it seem tinier, cozier, compared to the vast space I have all to myself here.
I think about the time I learned how to fix the leaky kitchen sink all by myself after watching a YouTube tutorial, even though Hunter told me he’d handle it when he got home. When I showed off my handy work, he’d kissed me, grabbed my butt, and showed me just how impressed he was with my handy skills by offering a few of his own in the bedroom.
Then I think about how even that space, smaller than this one, started to feel too empty. I was surrounded by things, but those were material. Meaningless. Nothing compared to the people who owned them, who rarely spent the same amount of time there to enjoy them properly like I had.
I find myself lingering on thoughts of me wandering around my old house, faking a smile when colleagues of Hunter would swing by, and giving off forced laughs at something one of the military wives would say as if I was happy. But what those people didn’t know was that the couple they thought were “goals” was actually falling apart at the seams.
Suddenly, I found myself watching more YouTube videos to fix things Hunter would constantly say he’d do but didn’t. I’d catch up on TV shows that we used to watch together when he wouldn’t come home on time and learn how to cook for one because cooking for two started becoming wasteful.
I guess it wouldn’t have mattered where I lived, how big or small the house was because I’d always be hit with the same hollow feeling in my chest as I have right now.
But then my eyes trail to the window, and my mind drifts to the man I saw leave in his big, expensive truck this morning. The brawny man behind the steering wheel had lifted a few fingers to wave as he passed, giving me a small smile through the window.
And my thoughts…change.
No longer do I focus on the silence I’m consumed by because my mind screams at me to open my eyes.
To figure out what’s in front of me.
A house that I bought on my own. That I maintain, for the most part, by myself.
A job that I love that pays the bills.
Neighbors who have become friends.
A family who drives me crazy but is always there when I need them.
And a man who helps me even when I don’t want him to.
I look down at my hand that he patched and see the faded scar from the rain gutter.
I remember the drunken man who’d hit me and how cold the frozen vegetables were on my face that he had given me.
Fletcher’s words aren’t always pretty.
They can be annoying.
Grating on the nerves.
But they’re unapologetically his own, and his brazen nature only makes me realize that I’m sinking into the same pit of depression as before for no reason at all.
Because I have him.
His interest. His attention. His patience.
Suddenly, the last thing I’m thinking about is this house or the past that led me here.
I simply think about him.
The first date I ever went on was hot, and the ice cream we’d gotten had melted quicker than I could eat it. It was late afternoon on a school day when I remember constantly fidgeting with my hair and feeling my face redden every time the boy across from me looked in my direction. Of course, I blamed the sun and the heat, but Hunter knew how nervous I was, how he’d been the first guy who’d ever asked me out because I’d embarrassingly admitted as much.
Even on date four, I’d felt the same thing I had the first time, except maybe more intense because the boy with pretty eyes and a prettier smile had held my hand throughout the movie we’d seen and told me over and over how beautiful I was. My heart soared, my stomach fluttered so much I couldn’t eat any of the popcorn he’d gotten for us to share, and I worried he’d let go of my hand because of how sweaty it was by the time the credits rolled.
I’d waited for those feelings to go away as a sign that it’d run its course, but they never did. I tried convincing myself that Hunter could see any girl he wanted, but he never paid any attention. Not in school when they’d wave or bat their lashes at him, or in classes when they’d try wiggling their way into our twosome or try convincing him to become partners for projects or lab assignments.
Hunter always chose me.
He’d given me a beautiful heart-shaped silver diamond necklace when I turned sixteen and told me I was his “forever girl.”
Dad had rolled his eyes when I told him.
Mom smiled at the gift but looked wary.
And I thought I’d never come down from how high up I floated knowing someone like Hunter could love me as much as he did.
But tonight, those feelings I felt so heavily the first few years of my relationship don’t even compare to the ones swirling inside my body. They’re not contained by only my stomach or ribcage but curling around every muscle, nerve, and fiber of my being as the stoic man across the table watches me closely. His eyes dip when my hand curls around the lemonade I ordered, traveling up to my mouth when my lips touch the glass to take a sip, and glances at my throat as I swallow the sour-sweet liquid.
There’s not one thing he misses.
Like at the bar, he’d pulled my chair out for me when the hostess showed us our table. He passed me the menu and suggested I try out the loaded cheese fries because he knows how much I love the ones at the bar and suggested what burger to give a shot when I asked him what he liked getting since it’s his favorite spot to escape to outside Stanton Springs.
And nothing prepared me for the spark shooting through my body, awakening every nerve-ending in my body when he’d given me a name of a famous burger option The Shack was known for and adding, “But it’s your choice, get whatever you want.”
I guess when you’ve been neglected from making so many choices in your life, the ones you’re offered mean ten times more.
Fletcher Miller, whether he knows it or not as he sips the water he’d ordered and watches me watch him back, took part of my heart in that instance. Or, more likely, I’d handed it to him.
Freely. Willingly.
Because I’d chosen to.
I’ll always think about the firsts I had with Hunter because I’ve had nothing to compare it to all this time, but I already know from the short time I’ve spent with Fletcher tonight, riding in the passenger seat of the truck he picked me up in, talking about Nicki and Admiral and my parents and Vickie, and everything in between, and sitting down across from each other in a well-lit, quiet little wooden establishment that smells like grilled meat and spices, that this is only the beginning of something far greater than what I had before.
My breath…it catches at the thought.
“What is it?” he asks because he notices.
Of course, he notices.
Not knowing how I could put it to words properly, I shake my head and give him the dulled-down version of every little thought going through my mind. “I’m just having a really great time, that’s all.”
He simply stares, his eyes softening at the admission that makes me blush for sounding juvenile.
“That sounds silly, right?” I shake my head at myself. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t done this often. And not in a long, long time. Date, I mean. Go on dates. This.” I look around again, soaking in the music softly playing and listening to the families and couples occupying other tables.
“I don’t either,” his voice cuts in, pulling my attention back to him. “Date that often. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time I even wanted to take a woman out.”
I blink.
One of his shoulders lifts, pulling at the material of his long sleeve black sweater. Neither one of us dressed up. When he’d asked to take me out on a proper date, he told me to dress casually and comfortably. I’d opted for a pair of leggings and a cute sweater dress with appropriate footwear for the recent snowfall and single-digit temps. He was in a sweater, jeans, and those famous boots that look more and more worn every day.
“Is there a reason?” I decide to pry, nibbling the inside of my cheek. It can’t hurt to ask, or else I’ll be wondering the rest of the night, and probably a long time after too.
He takes a sip of his water. “Truthfully, I’ve never been that interested. Can’t say I dated much, even before Traci. I sowed my oats like a lot of military men. Had some fun. Enjoyed my youth. And when Dominic became an outcome, I thought about what it meant for the future. Growing up, settling down, being a decent parent. I wanted to focus on those things and nothing else.”
“That’s very admirable of you.”
He shrugs, brushing off how true it is.
“Anyway, after Traci and I ended things, I didn’t really feel like putting myself out there or reverting back to old ways.” I swear his cheeks turn pink.
Sex. He’s referring to sex.
Suddenly, an image of him naked comes to mind, and I have to fight to keep my face from turning red too. “Nobody has caught your eye?”
A smirk quirks his lips. “You’re sitting here, aren’t you?”
The blush comes before I can stop it, making him chuckle. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Honey, I can’t pretend I stayed celibate since my split with Nicki’s mom.” His voice is low, gruff like he doesn’t want to admit it but chooses to for the sake of honesty, something I’m grateful for. “But it wasn’t often, and not anything that I wanted to last longer than a few weeks at most. So, no. Not one woman has caught my eye until you moved in across the street. The second I knew who you were…” His jaw ticks as he grips his glass a little tighter and looks away. “Well, I probably shouldn’t have let my mind go where it did, but it happened. I knew who you used to be with, knew you were married and knew I should have looked the other way and let you live your life peacefully. Then you became Dominic’s teacher, and I saw what he did in you. Compassion and respect for everybody in your life, and I couldn’t really ignore that. Not when I’ve seen how other people treat Nic. You’re different. I wasn’t about to let that go.”
I argue, “You could have.”
But the stubborn man shakes his head. “I couldn’t. I’ve known a lot of people in my lifetime, Peaches. Crossed paths with a lot of great ones and a lot of shitheads in my days traveling and serving. You’re one of the good ones, probably one of the best if we’re being honest, and you can blush and give me that look like you want to argue all you want, but I’ve always been good at reading people. I know who you are and what you’re about. I already told you that I like and respect you, but I’ll remind you again in case you forgot. Somebody like you deserves to be told how important they are, because there aren’t many like you out there.
“So, yeah. You caught my eye. Even if the mutual past we share tells us we should think twice. But if you’re game, if you’re willing to push past that, then I sure as hell know I am.”
My shaky hands pick up my drink to quench my parched mouth.
“Hunter was a fucking moron for not treating you the way you deserved,” he states firmly. “I’m not going to miss my shot because he had you first. If anything, I’m ready to prove to him and many other people you’re for keeps and always should have been. I don’t mind calling people out when they’re wrong.”
I know he doesn’t, which is why yet another little piece of my heart is served up on the platter along with the burger and fries put on the table in front of him by our waiter.
Staring at my own food, I let out a small breath before glancing back up at him. “I should probably tell you that Traci came to see me earlier this week. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I don’t really know why I didn’t when I had the chance.”
He’s quiet for a moment, grabbing the ketchup bottle and pouring some on the fries. “I know. She told me.”
I frown, feeling even worse that I didn’t say something when I saw him the same night she’d visited me.
All he says is, “She likes you, and that’s not an easy feat with Traci. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. There’s nobody who wouldn’t.”
I can think of a few people.
But I don’t volunteer any names.