Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

E rin stood in the silent store, everything encapsulated exactly as her father had left it. Her gaze moved over the dim aisles, scanning the various items hung on display, until she came to the table beside the register where the cake and coffee usually sat.

Stepping behind the register, she stared at the heavy glass ashtray. Three of her father's cigarette butts squashed in the dust.

She pressed a key on the register and the drawer opened. Several bills filled the tray. Being that her father was a stickler for a balanced drawer, she'd bet her kidneys there was three hundred dollars in there, not a penny more, not a penny less.

Her meeting with the attorney had been surprising. Her father had a very basic will, and she could expect some money back for what she had put out for the funeral. She could also afford to order him a headstone since Harrison refused.

The house was paid off, so anything they made on the sale would be hers, being that Harrison told her to keep whatever it made. The store, though, was a tricky one.

"I don't understand," she had said to the attorney when he'd explained her father's will.

"Your father wanted to avoid the estate tax, so he transferred the deed about ten years ago."

"So… I'm sorry, can you explain it again?"

The attorney crossed his arms, leaning forward on the oak desk until his glasses slid to the tip of his narrow nose. "The house will go to both of you, along with any other assets inside. Your father's personal accounts will be used to pay off any outstanding debts and the balance will be divvied between you and your brother."

She had already found her father's bank statements. There wasn't much in his personal savings. He kept everything in the business account for the store.

"And the store belongs to Harrison," the attorney repeated. "Along with all the business accounts, I'm afraid."

She blinked at the man, feeling ten kinds of stupid. Her father hadn't left the store to Harrison, he'd given it to him years ago, signed everything over on account of trying to avoid a small percentage of what was commonly referred to as a death tax.

"But my brother doesn't want the store," she'd told the attorney.

The man chuckled. "I don't want this extra twenty pounds around my waist, but that doesn't change the fact that it's there. Your brother already owns the store. He has for some time."

When she left the attorney's office her head was a mess.

Harrison had disappeared without even collecting his high school diploma. She had been the one who stayed. She filled her father's prescriptions, did his laundry, and made countless fucking cakes for that goddamn store. But he gave it all to Harrison.

Staring around the empty aisles now, she wondered if her father ever liked her. She knew he never loved her, but this last slap in the face seemed to sting more than all the rest.

She dug out her phone, ignoring the fact that Giovanni hadn't returned any of her calls and only sent a short text around six in the morning saying he'd call her later, which he never did.

What was he doing up so early? Had he even gone to bed? She couldn't think about that right now. He was probably passed out at the hotel, hopefully sleeping off a great show.

She dialed Harrison and got his voicemail. "It's me. I'm out. The store's yours." She laughed, the sound cold and hollow. "It's been yours for ten years. I can't handle this for you because it's not part of the estate. You're gonna have to come back and deal with this yourself."

With nothing left to say, she hung up.

When she locked the store, she pulled the key off her keyring and shoved it through the mail slot. She was tired of taking care of other people's crap, especially for people who never did a damn thing to take care of her.

On the way home, she made another call to the realtor.

"Erin, how're the renovations coming along?"

"I'm ready to list it."

"You're sure? That would mean open houses and a possible short sale if we find a buyer willing to pay cash."

"I'm sure."

When she got home, she cleared out the cabinets, leaving only the food and two cups, two plates, two bowls, and a few pieces of silverware.

Just after three, the front door opened. "Hello?"

At the sound of Giovanni's voice, she rushed to the hall but staggered to a stop when she saw the expression on his face. His hair was windblown and his cheeks rosy red. He looked tired and miserable.

A dirty sweatshirt hung over his broad shoulders and he was wearing carpenter jeans and work boots. "Are you going to a costume party?"

He gave a half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Funny."

He toed off his boots and crossed the distance to kiss her. She drew back at the unfamiliar scent of his skin. He didn't smell like his usual self. He smelled like pine and cold winter wind. She had the suspicion he hadn't come from Atlantic City.

"Where were you?"

"Working." He went to the kitchen and opened a cabinet. "Where's all the stuff?"

"I packed it. What are you looking for?"

"Something hot."

She nudged him aside and pulled down a mug. "I can make coffee."

He sat at the table and folded his arms, staring at the surface. His hands were chapped and he had a few cuts on his fingers.

"What happened to you?"

"Sit down. We need to talk."

Those words were the furthest thing from inviting, but she forced herself to sit once she set the coffee pot to brew.

"How was your show?"

She'd been angry that he wasn't texting or calling as much as she wanted, but she promised herself not to fight about that. She refused to let her self-doubt bully her common sense, and was trying really hard to handle this long distance stuff like a mature, rational woman. But now, there was definitely something ominous in the air and her self-preservation didn't seem as stable.

"The show was a bust."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

"I took a job working for my dad."

"What? But you said you hated?—"

"It doesn't matter. I need a job and he offered one."

"What about your standup?"

"It's not happening."

"Well, you have to give it time. Maybe you need a PR person?—"

"I don't have the money for that. Look, I thought long and hard about this, and it's the right move. Besides, if I work at the lumberyard, I can stay here and we don't have to be apart." He stood. "I need to take a shower."

"But…the coffee…"

"I probably shouldn't have any anyway. I need a good night's sleep."

Erin blinked at the empty kitchen unsure what had happened over the past two days. The man who left was not the same man who returned.

He was dirty because he'd already started working for his father. That meant he'd been back in Jasper Falls for some time but hadn't called her. Why?

She shut off the coffee pot and waited for him in her bedroom. He kept a small bag of clothes at her house and pulled on sweats and a T-shirt after his shower.

"I'm so fucking cold I can't get warm."

She thought about the way they slept with their bellies pressed together that first night in the car. "Do you want to lay together?"

He rubbed the drops from his hair and tossed the damp towel in the hamper. Had he even missed her? He'd yet to even hug her.

"You're almost out of shampoo."

She held her breath, once again trying not to misread the situation.

Groaning, he sat on the bed and laid back, his hands clasped tightly over his chest and his face set in a scowl as he stared at the ceiling. Did he want to be alone?

Unsure why he was acting this way, she lowered herself beside him and curled her body into his. He didn't pull her close or tuck her under his arm like he usually did. And somehow, the distance of being by his side felt worse than the distance of being in two separate states.

Had she done something wrong? Maybe she called too much? Was this about his show? Had something happened while he was on the road? Maybe he got a negative review.

She had a hundred questions, but he was snoring before she voiced a single one. She left him there to sleep and he didn't stir for the rest of the night, not even when she came to bed hours later.

She wanted to tell him about the store and her meeting with the attorney. She should update him about the house, so he wasn't caught off guard when the FOR SALE sign appeared. She needed to think about where she wanted to live. But she actually wanted to know where he wanted to live, so they wouldn't be far apart. But now, she wasn't so sure it mattered.

The next morning, when she woke, he was gone. If he kissed her goodbye, she hadn't felt it. The realtor came by around noon to drop off the sign. During a short walk-through of the house, she pointed out a few sales tricks to help make the property more appealing.

She told Erin how to set the blinds and what to use to make the house smell inviting. Erin took a trip to the farmer's market for cinnamon sticks and apples, wanting to be prepared in case anyone requested a tour.

She was debating which apples to buy—Granny Smith or McIntosh—when someone called her name.

"Erin?"

She turned and found Mallory pushing a cart in her direction. "Hi."

She smiled and Erin took in her pretty blazar and dress jeans. She looked down at her leggings and plain parka.

"I never see you here," Mallory said, glancing at the cloves and cinnamon sticks in her cart and the apples Erin held in her hand. "Are you making pie? I like the green ones best."

"I'm selling my house. The realtor said I should boil apples and cinnamon when people visit."

"Oh." She frowned. "Where are you moving to?"

"I don't know."

She looked like she wanted to ask something, but only said, "I heard Giovanni started at the lumberyard. You must be happy to have him here on a more permanent basis."

"He hates it." The words fell out before she could pull them back.

Mallory looked uncomfortable. Her husband was basically Giovanni's boss, and their entire family took great pride in the business. "Oh."

Erin shook her head, backtracking. "It's nothing personal. It's just not for him. He wants to be a comedian."

"Then why is he here?"

Excellent question. As much as Jasper Falls was growing and improving, they still only had one bar that could host any sort of performer, and one comedian wouldn't keep the locals entertained for long.

"It's really difficult to get booked," she explained, unsure if she was sharing personal business where she shouldn't.

"I'm sure. Well, maybe we can get together again soon. I had fun at the pub with you guys the other night."

"Sure." Erin was starting to really like Mallory. "I'll have Giovanni call Finn and set something up."

"Great. I better go. I still have to pick up the kids."

"Bye." Erin smiled, savoring the sensation of a completely normal conversation with another girl. Did this mean Mallory was her friend? She should have asked for her phone number— No, too much.

She'd have Giovanni call Finn. That was better.

Bagging up some green apples, she wove up and down the aisles, grabbing a few more items before checking out.

That night, Giovanni didn't come over. Erin made enough dinner for two, but wrapped his up and put it in the fridge. When she called him, he didn't answer until the third ring, like he was asleep.

"Hello?" he rasped, sounding half asleep.

"Where are you?"

He groaned. "Home. I fell asleep."

"You could have called."

"Sorry."

She sighed. They were so out of sync she couldn't wait until he had a day off. "I saw Mallory at the market today. She wants to get together with us again. I told her you'd call Finn to set something up."

"Pass."

She frowned. "What?"

"The last person I feel like seeing in my free time is Finn. I have to listen to him barking out orders all day. I'd rather not have to hear his voice on my day off."

Disappointed, she tried to see things from his perspective. She supposed Finn was now his boss, so she could understand how that might make hanging out awkward, but they were still cousins.

This was awful. Giovanni was so miserable working there and it was still his first week. Maybe he needed time to adjust. It was a strenuous job and he wasn't used to that sort of labor. He'd probably feel better once he received a paycheck.

"I listed the house today."

Silence.

"It's scary and exciting. The realtor thinks I can get over two hundred thousand for it, and Harrison told me I could keep whatever it sells for." Her brother never returned her call about the store.

"Wow. That's a lot of money."

"I know." She never had that sort of money. "I want to buy you something when it sells, so give me some ideas."

"I'm set."

She tsked. "Giovanni, let me spoil you a little. I want to."

He made a non-committal sound. "I should really get back to sleep. I have to be up at the crack of dawn."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Bye…" She hung up the phone feeling as lost as a balloon cut from its string.

For the rest of the week, it was much of the same, Giovanni complaining about the cold weather and exhaustion while Erin internally panicked that their relationship might never be the same.

When the weekend finally arrived, she was grateful to have him all to herself. They lounged around, watching old comedies and ordered pizza for lunch, eating the leftovers for dinner.

She missed simply being close to him and constantly curled into his side. He laughed at the movies but then something sad would take over his eyes. He used to be so happy, but lately, he seemed trapped under some oppressive fog he obviously wasn't ready to discuss with her. Was it work? Family? Finance? Or was it them?

She couldn't bear another second of him in this mood. She didn't want to be confrontational and pick a fight, but sometimes non-confrontation made situations worse. She needed to know what he wasn't communicating and why he wasn't communicating with her.

Her hand trembled as she picked up the remote and shut off the TV. "We need to talk."

He lifted a brow. "That doesn't sound good."

"I think you should stop working at the lumberyard. You hate it."

"It's a decent job."

"There are other decent jobs. And what about standup? You're just going to give up after all the work you put into it?"

He stood and carried their plates into the kitchen, not bothering to answer. She grabbed their glasses and followed him.

"Giovanni—"

"What? Don't you get it? I don't want to discuss this!"

She drew back, her heart jolting in her chest, a nauseating fear swilling in her stomach. Countless times in her life, she'd been yelled at and worse, but never by him. The shock startled her fight or flight response into action and tears sprung to her eyes.

He winced as if equally surprised by his temper. Softening his voice, he apologized, "Sorry. I just really don't want to talk about this."

Not wanting to upset him anymore, she nodded tightly and watched him leave the kitchen. She clutched the glasses protectively to her chest as the wall pressed into her back. She let out a shaky breath and walked the cups to the sink, turning on the water and bracing her hands on the counter, waiting for a sense of balance to return.

Her throat constricted and the familiar instinct to run somewhere safe burned in her chest. But where would she go? This was her home.

As the water heated, so did her temper. She understood he was upset, but she had only been trying to help. She brought the subject up out of concern.

For the first time in her entire life, she felt safe in her house and didn't like the idea that anyone could take that sense of security away from her—even Giovanni.

She shut off the faucet and returned to the living room. "Get out."

"What?" He wore a startled expression.

"I want you to leave."

He scowled at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't get to yell at me—in my house—and then act like nothing happened. You've been in this mood for days and I've been trying to be patient, but you…" Her heart stuttered out of beat. "You never even told me when you got home."

"So you're throwing me out?"

Was she overreacting? "You haven't even touched me since you've been back from Atlantic City."

"So this is about sex?"

"No."

"Well, I know it's not about intimacy."

She staggered back as if he slapped her.

"Shit, Erin, I didn't mean?—"

"Shut up!" Her eyes welled with tears.

How could he throw that in her face? She tried her best and she'd given him more than she'd ever given anyone.

"Erin…" He crossed the room and hugged her, but she pushed him off, no longer wanting the weight of his arms around her.

"No."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Her body chilled and her mind disconnected as he kissed her forehead and her cheek. He lifted her chin, angling her face so his lips could reach her mouth, but she just stood there.

"Forgive me." He kissed her throat, holding her close. "I don't want to leave."

Any response she might have tucked deep in a shadowed corner of her mind, hiding like she had as a little girl, somewhere safe and unreachable.

"I didn't mean to snap at you." His lips found hers again and he held her face, kissing and apologizing. "I'm sorry. I'm an asshole."

Her body became a mannequin as he stripped away her clothes and kissed her breasts. He walked her to the sofa and dropped to his knees, but when he pressed his lips to her skin she felt nothing. Her mind had cut off, a reflexive response to save her from pain.

Maybe she made the right noises, maybe she didn't. Giovanni didn't seem to notice, and didn't that just say everything about how much she sucked at intimacy if he couldn't tell the difference between when she did and didn't try. It was all the same to men.

When he filled her, she rocked with each thrusting stroke, waiting for it to end. In his mind, this fixed everything, but his words hung around her like a noose, tightening until she could hardly breathe.

He spent the night, and she allowed it, not having the strength to ask him to leave again. Too afraid that another argument might come and he'd say something more hurtful than he already had.

She woke early and knew he would sleep most of the morning if no one disturbed him. Making a fresh pot of coffee, she filled a thermos and bundled up for the day.

She stopped to get gas at the end of town and grabbed a newspaper that listed nearby apartments. She couldn't stay in Jasper Falls. Somehow that damn lumberyard always got in the way. Or was it men who confused her plans?

Either way, it seemed like a mountain was sitting on her chest, and she had to find somewhere else to go, somewhere far away where people didn't know her enough to dislike her. A place where she wouldn't know anyone well enough to care if they come into her life or go.