Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DUSTY

“Nova made lasagna.” I slid my phone into my pocket and looked at my best friend. “She invited both of us to eat with her. It’s a thank you dinner.”

Tucker threw back the rest of his Coke and tossed the can in my recycling bin. “The same woman you’re giving your kitchen table to?”

“I don’t need it, Tuck,” I said defensively. “I live here alone.”

“What about poker?”

“I have a card table in the garage somewhere. I’ll pull it out when it’s my turn to host.”

Tucker’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.”

He didn’t wipe the suspicion from his face. “I’ve known you too long to be fooled, Dusty.”

My cat slinked from behind the counter and rubbed her back on my calf. I leaned down and picked her up, letting her relax in the crook of my arm.

“Reveille seems to be adjusting well,” Tucker said, crossing his arms with a smirk. He’d left her on my porch as a kitten. Lame prank, if you ask me. I got a cat out of it .

“Don’t swear in my house.”

“Reveille is a perfectly appropriate name,” he argued.

“For an evil mascot, maybe. I told you—her name is Leia.”

“Did your voice just soften?” he asked, his smile widening.

“No.” I put Leia down and watched her scamper to her deluxe cat climbing mansion in the corner of the living room. Yes, maybe I spoiled her. The poor girl was alone here for two days out of every six, and she needed things to occupy herself so she didn’t scratch up my entire house. My grandpa’s old armchair had learned that the hard way. “Let’s get this table outside.”

I moved to one end, ready to lift, but Tucker wasn’t budging from where he’d perched at the edge of the kitchen. “You can’t distract me that easily.”

I dropped my head back and sighed. “She just got divorced, and she has two kids. I’m not messing with her.”

“Of course you aren’t. You’re better than that.”

“Can we move the table now?”

“If you don’t want to date her, what do you want?”

My stomach dipped. “Nothing. I’m just being a good neighbor. She’s new in town and needs things. I have too many things. It’s basic math.”

Tucker watched me another moment before moving to the other end of the table. Before he lifted, though, he gave me a searching gaze. “We both know you’ve never been very good at math.”

Translation: I’d never been good at staying away from women. That had been true in the past; my string of girlfriends since high school proved it. But things had been different since I’d sent Grandpa to live at Pleasant Gardens. Hadn’t my consistent rejection of Gracie Mae proved I’d changed? If I was the same old Dusty, I would be taking advantage of her interest in me.

Instead, I didn’t see things going anywhere with Gracie Mae, so I didn’t string her along. She was stringing herself along behind me, and I didn’t quite know how to get across to her that she was wasting her time. I’d tried to no avail.

Tucker and I got the table and chairs and Grandpa’s old dresser—it was the nicest of the three I had—into the back of our trucks, then drove to Nova’s apartment. I’d snagged the rest of the bread I’d made yesterday before we left, hoping it was okay that it had a few slices cut off one end.

Her place smelled rich and heavenly, the air full of garlic and onion and tomatoes. Tucker helped me carry the furniture into her room and the dining area, then we all brought up the chairs. It was amazing how the few small additions made the place less sterile and more livable. Having a place to sit was a game changer.

How many weeks had she lived here now? Way too many to be sitting on stools and mattresses only.

“June’s waiting for me with my parents at the homestead,” Tucker said. “But thanks for the invitation.”

“Anytime. I’ll bake you something instead. What do you like?”

“Sugar,” I told her. “Tuck will eat anything with sugar.”

“I remember now,” she said, smiling. “Hot chocolate. You’re the one with the sweet tooth.”

Did she remember everyone by their diner orders? If so, what had she pegged me as? Burger Man? Bacon Boy? Coffee Kid?

“Yeah, guilty,” Tucker said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about it. I’m happy to help.”

She shot him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

Tucker nodded, then let himself out, leaving us with heavy silence. Until the bed creaked, like a little monkey was jumping on the mattress.

“Alice,” Nova called. “Get off that.”

“Two more minutes! ”

“Alice,” she repeated, sternly. “Now. Dinner’s ready.” Nova picked up a hot pad and carried the lasagna to the table.

Alice ran from the bedroom, but stopped when she noticed me, her eyes growing wide and her motions drawing inward.

“Set the table, please,” Nova said to her.

“Can I help you, Alice?” I asked. “I need something to do.”

She nodded.

We worked together to set the table while Nova mixed a salad and sliced the bread I’d brought. By the time we all sat at the table, my mouth was salivating from the smell alone.

Alice ran her finger along the ridge of the table, her eyes wide. “It’s like the one we had at home,” she said softly.

Nova nodded, her eyes rising to meet mine. “Same shape, but that’s about the only similarity. This is such a great table.”

I ran my finger over the well creased ridges of letters overlapping math problems. “I did homework on this thing for many years, so it’s a little worn in.”

“That’s the best kind of furniture though. The lived-in kind.” She dished lasagna onto Alice’s plate, then mine. “Our place back in New York was mostly filled with things I’d thrifted and painted or reupholstered.”

My eyebrows shot up.

She was quick to straighten my perception with a self-deprecating laugh while she cut Alice’s lasagna into bites, steam rising from the plate. “Don’t be impressed. They were very obviously done by an amateur, but I loved each piece because it had been made to my specifications. I got to choose the color or the fabric or the hardware.”

No wonder she loved her blue velvet couch. Nova valued connection, and that couch came with a story and a stranger’s kindness. I was suddenly dying to see the furniture she had put such great care into. “Are you planning to bring your things out here eventually? ”

Nova glanced up sharply. “No. I can’t. None of it is mine anymore.”

We finished making our plates before I ate a bite of lasagna and died, traveling straight to the Italian heavens. It was fantastic. I prided myself on being a good cook, but I didn’t think I’d ever made anything so flavorful and rich and saucy, with the perfect balance of cheesiness.

“This is amazing.”

Nova blushed. “It’s just lasagna.”

“It’s the best lasagna I’ve ever had. So creamy.”

“That’s my secret ingredient.”

“New York magic?”

“Cottage cheese.”

“My mom is the best cook,” Alice said quietly.

Nova’s attention snapped to her daughter, her surprise evident.

“So far, I have to agree,” I told her, taking another bite. “Did you know that all the firefighters in town think I’m the best cook?”

Alice shook her head, her fork hovering above a plate of lasagna cut into bites.

I shrugged. “They might be wrong though. I guess we’ll have to wait until the Battle of the Badges to know once and for all.”

“Sure. Because we both know people will be voting for the food and not the organizations,” Nova said, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

“My grandpa voted for the police a few years ago, back before I was cooking.”

“Were you a firefighter then?”

“Yes, and it brought me great shame,” I said gravely. “People take it seriously. That’s all I’m saying.”

“This bread is delicious,” she said, taking another bite. “Did you get it at the market?”

“No, I made it.” Did that sound smug? I felt a little smug .

She tried to fight her smile, but I saw it playing on her lips. “You mentioned your grandpa left you two rooms of furniture. Is he the same traitor who voted for the cops?”

“The very one.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called him a traitor.”

“He was. I think I probably used that same word on him for weeks after he did that.”

Her cheeks were rosy, bringing out the depth of her brown eyes. She brushed loose hair behind her ears. “Do you have other family around?”

“No, just me and Gramps. He’s in Beeler now at an assisted living facility, but he signed his house and everything over to me before he went. We don’t have anyone else.”

Nova put her fork down. Her eyes shot to Alice, who wasn’t eating anymore. “You can clear your plate,” she told her.

Alice hopped up, carrying her half-empty plate to the garbage to scrape it clean. What a disgrace. None of this lasagna deserved to make it into the trash.

“Sorry,” Nova said more quietly while Alice rinsed her plate and ran off to her room. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“It’s no secret, Rival. My parents are long gone, and there wasn’t anyone else, so my grandpa took me in and raised me. When his mind started to go, it wasn’t safe for him to be at the house without me during my 48-hour shifts, so he picked a facility and started preparing to move.”

“He chose it?” she asked.

“Yeah. He visited all the assisted living facilities in the area when they threw their recruitment BBQs and chose the one with the best food.”

Nova laughed. “Is he the one who taught you to cook?”

“No.” I took a swig of water and raised my gaze again. “He can’t cook at all. He can pop a TV dinner in the microwave or fry eggs, but that’s about it.”

She stared at me, her deep brown eyes peering across the table and into my soul. “Which is why you learned, I’m guessing?”

“Bingo.” Usually talking about these things made me slightly uncomfortable, like I needed to defend Grandpa for his poor health choices, like I owed him so much it didn’t matter that we didn’t eat healthily for the first half of my life because at least I was eating. People could be so judgmental, and I always wanted to jump to his defense when he had been doing me the massive favor by feeding me at all. But Nova didn’t give me the urge to say anything like that. She didn’t judge me or my story. “He did his best, but I got tired of microwavable food.”

“You know, one thing my doctor drilled into me when I had Ben was the phrase ‘fed is best.’ Have you heard it?”

“No.”

“It just means that it doesn’t matter whether you nurse your baby or feed them formula, as long as the baby is eating and growing. Fed is best.” She pushed her plate away and leaned her arms on the table. “I thought about that a lot when my kids were toddlers. They picked at their plates or fought me on vegetables and would eat nothing but graham crackers and Go-gurt. As long as they were eating, I considered my job done. I think it’s incredible you learned such a valuable skill on your own, but as far as your grandpa is concerned, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

My chest glowed in appreciation. “Thanks for saying that. He put up with a lot from me, so the least I could do was put hot dinners on his table. I’m pretty sure he missed the food more than me when I went off to college.”

Nova lifted an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not,” I conceded. “It was probably a tie.”

“Have you always been such a tease?” she asked, rising and taking my empty plate over to the sink. I was going to go for seconds, but I didn’t want to be greedy, so I sadly watched my plate disappear .

If she was starting to sense that humor was a coping mechanism for me, I wouldn’t be surprised. Nova was one of those rare people who seemed to understand me on a deeper level. Like when everyone else saw the funny, charming guy, she could peel back the layer of charm and see the regular man underneath.

This was getting dangerous.

“I only tease people I like.”

“Since we’re rivals, I guess that disqualifies me, huh?”

I got up and started carrying things over to the kitchen, helping her put everything away. “No, because I know you like it.”

I didn’t know, actually, but I hoped that was the case.

The bed in her room started creaking again, and Nova rolled her eyes. “I blame you entirely for that, by the way.” She went back to her room and told Alice to quit jumping on the bed. I heard her threaten to take Peaches away next time she caught either of them disobeying, and Alice squealed and ran to her own room, shutting the door hard behind her.

Staring at the door to Nova’s room, I narrowed my eyes. We’d brought furniture into the apartment today, but we hadn’t taken anything out . I waited for her to return. “Hey, there was no mattress already when I brought the bed.”

She froze, putting the rest of the salad in the fridge, then closed it and turned to face me. “No, there wasn’t. I cleared out the room.”

She couldn’t have hidden a mattress under the rug. “Nova, what have you been sleeping on?”

“Well, a few nights ago I shared Alice’s twin with her because I fell asleep reading to her.”

“And all the other nights?” She didn’t even have a sofa.

She sighed, putting the salt and pepper in the cupboard with a snap. “Air mattress. Don’t judge me, Dusty. Slept is best.”

“Yeah, if you can sleep on an air mattress that long.” I considered the two twin mattresses in her kids’ room and the rest of the barren apartment. To know she’d been coming home and crashing on a blow-up mattress made me want to strangle her ex-husband. He was an idiot for ever letting her go in the first place, but to allow her to come so far with so little? That was low.

“I slept well enough,” she muttered.

“Well, I expect you want me out of your hair so you can go starfish on that bed for a while, then. It’s gonna feel like the Ritz after weeks on a rubber ice cube.”

She flashed me a hesitant smile. “I am looking forward to being warm tonight.”

My stomach clenched in a weird way. I wanted to cross the room and promise she’d never have to sleep cold again, that she could have my entire farmhouse and I’d take this barren apartment. But I didn’t know her well enough to offer her the world, and the impulse was inappropriate.

That didn’t stop me from wanting to say something though.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out.

Coach Gable

We’ve got a problem. Can you meet me in the locker room? It’s Brody.

I swore. My head whipped toward Alice’s door. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Nova asked, concerned.

“It’s Brody.”

“The kid who helps you coach?”

I nodded, firing off a text saying I would be there soon.

“Can I do anything?” she asked.

My impulse was to refuse her, but then I had an idea. “Can you wrap up a plate of dinner to go?”

She gave me one quick, searching nod. “Of course.”