Chapter 19

Nineteen

Gemma

“ A re you sure you don’t want me to spend the night?” my sister asks for no less than the tenth time since she picked me up at the hospital twenty minutes ago.

“Grace, I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay, I promise.” We’re walking into my house, and based on the overwhelming aroma of Pine-Sol, I know Georgia has been here, probably on her hands and knees with a bucket and a sponge, scrubbing my floors for me because it’s her favorite way to show support. A smile curls my lips at the thought. “I’m barely even sore, I can move around just fine, and anything I really need help with, Sutton can do.”

Dropping the discharge paperwork on the counter, my stubborn, full-of-love little sister places her hand on her hip as she looks over at me with an unamused look on her face. One that has me chuckling—which is a mistake, because ow , that doesn’t feel great .

“Fine,” she huffs out. “But I’m staying long enough to at least cook you a nice, hot, homemade dinner, and you won’t talk me out of it.”

“Knock, knock!” The sound of a new voice startles me just as I hear a knock on the screen door.

Eyes narrowed on the very guilty-looking woman in front of me, I ask, “Why the hell is Charley here, Grace?”

Shrugging and giving me her very best innocent look, fluttering eyelashes and all, Grace so seriously says, “Why, I don’t have a clue, big sis.” Then calls out to Charley, “It’s unlocked!”

A moment later, my guilty-looking, wide-smiling friend rounds the corner to join us in the kitchen.

“Grace put you up to this, didn’t she?” I ask as Charley sets a few bags of groceries on the counter, and starts unloading them. Conveniently, it all looks like ingredients needed to make dinner.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she responds, lips lifting into a grin that says she very much does . “How are you feeling, Gem?”

“I’m fine. You guys don’t need to babysit me.”

“We’re not babysitting you,” Grace murmurs. “We’re just here to cook you dinner and hang out with you for a little bit. You really should be better at accepting help, my gosh.”

Charley chuckles as she grabs two wineglasses out of the cabinet. “I know you can’t have wine right now, but I picked up some of your favorite sweet tea from Taylor’s.”

“Okay, okay,” Grace cuts in, damn near pushing me out of my own kitchen. “You need to sit down and rest,” she orders. “I’m going to get started on dinner, Charley will bring you your tea, and you two can hang out while I fix us some dinner.”

“You’re kind of a bitch when you set your mind to something, you know that?” I tease over my shoulder as I pad through the hallway toward my living room.

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of a stubborn twat,” she throws back, and I can’t help but laugh.

Again, bad idea.

“What time is Georgia bringing Sutton home?” Charley asks as she hands me the glass of sweet tea, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

“Not until closer to bedtime.”

My sister took Sutton yesterday after school got out because he had a game this morning. Everybody has been such a huge help when it comes to him, and it makes my throat tighten up even thinking about it.

Especially Everett.

The morning after my surgery, Grace told me that he took Sutton home so he could sleep in his own bed, then brought him to school the next morning. Sutton was more than a little excited to tell me later that afternoon how his teacher packed his lunch for him, and how he felt so cool riding with him in his car.

It was something he didn’t have to do, but he did, and it’s so sweet. Just because we’re neighbors—and newfound friends with benefits—doesn’t mean he owes me anything, especially something as huge as taking care of my child.

“So, fill me in on the gossip I’ve missed this week,” I say to Charley, wanting to get my mind off everything.

A smirk splits her face as she sets her drink down on the coffee table. “I’m so glad you asked because it’s surprisingly been a crazy week.”

“Oooh, do tell.”

“So, you know Blaine, the guy who owns the general store on Main Street?” I nod. “Well, he announced earlier this week that he’s going to start closing the store on Wednesdays.”

“What for?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugs. “But people are outraged .”

“Really?”

Charley laughs. “Yes! It’s all I’ve heard about all week. The Richardsons are staying at the inn this week while their floors are being redone at their place, and they came up to the front counter every single day to bitch about it to me. Then, I was grabbing a coffee and some lunch at The Morning Vibe yesterday afternoon, and I overheard, no exaggeration, three different groups of people complaining about it while I was waiting for my order.”

My brows rise. “Damn, didn’t realize the general store was such a hot spot on Wednesdays.”

“Neither did I.” Chuckling, she adds, “But the more you know.”

After she adjusts the messy bun on top of her head, Charley takes a sip of her wine. She has a style that is all her own, and I freaking love it. Fingers garnished with silver rings, a barbell through her tongue—and other, more intimate areas—long, sharp acrylics that resemble claws rather than nails, and the dark eye makeup gives very much alt-girl vibes. But she also loves to dress up with the bubblegum pinks and the frills and bows too, like Grace. She reminds me of a Goth Barbie. You never know which side of the spectrum you’re going to get.

She is so unapologetically herself, and she doesn’t give a damn what anybody thinks about it. Not to mention, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, with her stormy gray eyes, straight white teeth, and naturally full lips.

“So, what else is new?” I ask. “Grace mentioned a date.”

I can’t help but smirk when she rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Grace!” she calls out, and because, of course, she’s listening in on our conversation, Grace giggles from the kitchen. “It wasn’t a date, per se,” Charley explains. “He’s one of the new kitchen guys at work. We went out for drinks Wednesday after work.”

“Aaah,” I hum, a grin spreading. “Fraternizing with co-workers, are we? Love it. Tell me all about it.”

“His name is Trey, and he seems pretty cool. We’re into the same type of music. He just moved to town a few weeks ago, so he doesn’t really know anybody.”

“How old is he?”

Face scrunching up, she takes another long sip from her wine before she says, “Twenty-two.”

“Oh, we’re channeling our inner Georgia, I see.” I laugh as she rolls her eyes. Charley is thirty-four like I am, and my sister, who is a few years older, has a tendency to find men who are much younger. She’s our resident cougar but, apparently, Charley is taking some notes from Georgia’s book.

“Fuck off,” Charley spits out, chuckling. “I doubt it’ll go anywhere further than it is, but he’s at least fun to hang out with.”

“Did y’all hook up?” I ask, curiosity piqued .

Her cheeks pinken as a smile curls her lips. “We may have.”

“Wait, what!” Grace blurts out from the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me that, you bitch!”

Laughter bubbles out of me that quickly turns into a groan as an ache stabs me in the stomach. “Ow, fuck. Quit making me laugh,” I tease.

After a while, Grace announces that dinner is done, so the three of us pile around my dining room table and dig in.

“This is so good, Grace,” I tell her.

“I know it’s nothing special,” she says. “But it should be easy enough on your stomach. The doctor said to eat bland foods for the first couple weeks.”

“Well, it’s delicious. Thank you.”

The truth is, as much as I truly do suck at accepting help when I need it, I appreciate having both of them here. Not just because Grace cooked us dinner, but because I could really use my girls. With my appendix damn near bursting earlier this week, I haven’t had a chance to tell any of them about what happened with Everett, and I’m dying to get it off my chest finally.

“So, I’ve got some… news,” I awkwardly say, not really sure how to start this conversation.

Pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth, Grace watches me across the table with raised eyebrows. “News? What news could you possibly have when you just got home from the hospital?”

“Well, this actually happened before that.” My cheeks heat. “I may or may not have asked Everett to be my friend with benefits.”

Charley’s mouth drops open as Grace’s eyes bulge. “What!” my sister squeaks. “And you’re just now telling us this? Do you hate us?”

Chucking, I take a drink from my sweet tea. “Hospital stay, remember?” I murmur. “And right before that, I knew you were stressed out about that huge order at the bakery. I planned to tell you guys the other day during Bachelor night, but that clearly never happened.”

“Okay, miss ma’am, I’m going to need you to start at the beginning,” Grace says. “I didn’t even know you were considering that. When did that happen?”

“Remember that day Beau came over to my house when Blakely was with Dad?” She nods. “Okay, well, later that night after I got home from dropping Beau off with you, I decided to text him and ask if he wanted to come over for some wine and hang out.”

Charley’s face lights up with a grin. “I’m loving that it was you who made the first move.”

“Well, calm down.” I breathe out a chuckle. “Nothing happened that night. Well, not really.”

Shimmying in her seat, Grace says, “Go on.”

“We drank a few glasses of wine, had really great conversation—like honestly, it flowed so easily, and it never felt awkward—and I had some music playing.” I feel my cheeks heat and the butterflies swarming in my stomach all over again, remembering the part that came next. “Then he asked me to dance with him.”

“Shut up!” Grace claps her hands in front of her, excitement permeating off of her. “Like, what kind of dance? Slow dance? Grinding?” She waggles her brows at the last one, making me laugh.

“Slow dance,” I reply. “‘Beautiful Crazy’ started playing, and I’m not kidding, you guys, he stood up, offered me his hand, and asked me to dance like we were in some sweet Hallmark movie.”

“Stop! I’m dying. That’s so cute.” My sister can hardly contain herself. “Then what happened? You fell in love, right? Because I would’ve fallen in love on the spot.”

Charley snorts. “You fall in love twice a week,” she says to Grace. “It doesn’t take much for you to fall in love.”

My sister’s nose scrunches as she takes in our friend. “Rude.”

“I mean, Charley’s not wrong.” I laugh.

“You’re both assholes,” she huffs. “What happened next?”

Smile tugging on my lips at the memory, the feeling of being so close to him that first time. “Sutton woke up,” I murmur with a laugh. “But before he did, there was a moment when I really thought he was going to kiss me, and it kind of took me by surprise how much I wanted him to do that. Like, I always figured my first time doing anything after Dylan, I’d freak out a little, but there was none of that. Yeah, I was a little nervous, but there wasn’t panic or a need to flee.”

Grace gets a tiny, empathetic smile on her face, the same one she gets any time we discuss Dylan or life without him. “Good,” she utters softly. “I’m glad you felt that desire. I know I’ve said this an umpteen number of times over the years, but I’m saying it again because I think you need to hear it: moving on, finding a way to be happy and fulfilled, even if that’s with somebody else, doesn’t mean you loved Dylan any less.

“It doesn’t mean you’re going to forget about him, or forget the times you shared, or the love you two had for one another. You will always love Dylan, he will always have a place in your heart, honey, but that doesn’t mean you can’t move on. It doesn’t mean you can’t be happy, or love again. He would want you to share your bright, beautiful love, and he would want you to be loved.”

“She’s right,” Charley adds, covering my hand on the table with hers. “I’m proud of you for taking this step, and for going at your own pace.”

Flipping my hand in her hold, I link my fingers with hers as I reach my other hand across the table to hold Grace’s. “I know you’re right,” I murmur, meeting my sister’s gaze. “But also, this isn’t love. We are friends; we both agreed. It’s no-strings, stress-relieving, orgasm-inducing fun. That’s it. So, don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

Grace and Charley share a look that I pretend not to see, because I know they think I’m full of shit. But I’m not. Two adults who are mutually attracted to one another and who are friendly can have no-strings-attached fun.

They can.

“Okay, but wait,” Charley says, head turning in my direction. “Was their orgasm-inducing fun?”

Suddenly, both of their eyes are locked on mine, and I feel my cheeks heat all over again. Huffing out a laugh, I reluctantly nod before diving into telling them all about the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.

The one I can’t stop thinking about.

The one I desperately want to happen again, but my body had to go and fuck it all up by sending me to the hospital, putting an appendix-sized wrench in my plans.