I smelled the wood burning in the fireplace, and if Griff had been the last one to poke it then I needed to go tend to it before the fire died. I wasn’t an expert at lighting fires, so I got up and grabbed the fleece rob Griff had left out for me. Wrapping it around my shivering body, I hurried and pulled on some thick fuzzy socks before going into the living area of the apartment.
Thanks to the fire, the living room was at least fifteen degrees warmer than the bedroom had been. The flames coming from the fireplace also didn’t look as if they’d been ignored for two hours. The large fresh logs burning meant I wasn’t alone.
There were two options as to who had kept the fire going. Glancing around the room and over the top of the divider into the small kitchen space, I saw no one. The other bedroom door was closed. Maybe they were gone now. I had no idea if Creed was in college or had a job or what he did other than he was a musician. That much I expected. Creed had been playing the guitar and writing his own songs since he was ten years old. He’d gotten his first guitar for Christmas that year, and by May, when I arrived for the summer, he had mastered several songs and written one of his own.
Cora would sing with him. She had sung beautifully. I used to love listening to them. The sadness came with her memory as it always did. She was the closest thing I had to a sister. She was the only best friend I’d ever had. We told each other all our secrets or I thought we had until the day we found her. I didn’t want to think about that. I’d spent years in therapy dealing with her death. Seeing Creed brought back darkness that I’d fought hard to overcome.
I didn’t want to go back to that place in my head. It was about my focus. I would get some coffee then curl up in a chair beside the fire and make a to-do list for when I got to Gran’s. Focusing on my immediate future and not letting my past come back to haunt me.
The kitchen was small but well-stocked as far as coffee supplies went. There wasn’t much else in the way of nourishment. Unless you counted a bottle of ketchup, a block of cheese, and some stale bread as food. I was impressed with Chet and Griff’s supply of creamer and sugar. Making coffee the way I liked it, with too much sugar and cream, made my morning infinitely better. I stopped off in the bedroom to grab a pen and my notebook, before finding a spot on the sofa close to the fire.
It wasn’t even Halloween yet and it was freezing. This was crazy and something I’d need to get used to living here. In Nashville, they weren’t even wearing long sleeves yet. Unless a random cold front came in for a couple days, no one would need sleeves until November. It didn’t make me miss Nashville though. The only bright spot in my life there had been Griff.
“Morning,” a deep voice said and my head snapped up from the flames I’d been staring at. I’d known he was probably here, but I hadn’t been prepared for this, for talking to him or being alone with him. Hearing his voice again sent my stupid body into a weird turmoil. As if it had missed the sound and wanted to hear more of it. Why did it want to hear more of it? It would only bring me pain. My brain and I were in agreement. It was the rest of me that was confused.
Creed had put on a pair of faded jeans and a vintage Def Leppard t-shirt, but he’d not brushed his hair. It worked for him, but then Creed was the kind of sexy that could wear anything and still turn heads. As a little girl, I’d loved playing with him, and as a teenage girl, I had fallen in love with him.
“Hello,” I said so softly, it was almost a whisper.
“Their coffee is shit,” he said, as he walked toward the kitchen.
I turned my gaze back to the fire. Pretending like we were strangers was difficult. Once there had been so much I wanted to say to him. I’d wanted to ask him why? What had I done wrong? Why had he turned on me without a reason?
Now, he was here. We were in the same room and I had no words. I couldn’t think of one thing to say.
I heard him in the kitchen and as much as I wanted to not care that he was here, my body was attuned to his every move. Maybe it was my nerves or uncertainty. It couldn’t possibly be more than that. His footsteps were soft and I realized he must be barefoot. The cold wouldn’t affect him like it did me. He was a New Englander.