Grady
When Junior and Barbara-Claire arrive, Junior grabs the other end of my cooler so we can move the beer from the back of my trailer into the house.
“How much do you two plan to drink tonight?” Barbara-Claire asks as she arches a single brow in my direction. She walks past us and into the kitchen. The previous owner passed away and her daughter cherry-picked the best of the antiques, but the house still has appliances and it’s in good if not great shape, so the kitchen is completely useable even though there’s no furniture there yet. There’s a huge formal dining room that needs to be filled eventually, but right now the kitchen could use a small table or breakfast nook at the least.
Barbara-Claire sets three large pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, opens one and says, “Voila! Dinner is served!”
Evie looks past her and around her. “Where are my girls?”
“With Junior’s mama. She wanted to keep them, and I didn’t have the heart to refuse her.”
Evie actually looks disappointed.
“You need to pop out a couple of kids, Evie,” Junior teases. “I could totally see you with a couple of rowdy little boys.”
Evie snorts. “I’ve never been able to stand any man long enough to get pregnant, Junior, and you know I’m not lying.”
Junior waggles his brows at me. I ignore him, though I have to admit I agree with him. Evie would make a wonderful mother. And I could see her with at least one little boy or girl. Maybe two. I could also see her with me, and I know that’s about as likely to happen as me winning the lottery.
Junior nudges me. “I got that thing in the back of my truck that you asked me to pick up.”
I nod and follow him outside. “What thing?” I hear Evie holler from behind us, but I ignore her.
He lowers the tailgate on his truck so we can remove the glider that used to grace my front porch. It’s old, made of metal that has started to rust in some places, and heavy as fuck. I grunt as I lift it out, and Junior carries his end backwards up the steps, which means that I get most of the weight on my end.
Evie walks out the front door just as Junior and I set it in place and plop down on it. Junior tests the glide of it by pushing off with his feet. “Perfect,” he says.
“What are you two—” She stops short as she takes in the glider. “Where did that come from?” she asks, pointing at it like it’s going to get up and leave.
“Do you like it?” I ask, holding my breath.
“I love it, but I can’t keep it.” She stares at it like she doesn’t know what to say.
“Yes, you can,” Barbara-Claire cries. “I had to help Junior load that heavy thing into the back of his truck before we came over here. I am not moving it back.” She sits down on the glider between me and Junior and glares at Evie. “No way, no how,” she adds for good measure.
“Grady, you’ve done so much already.” Evie starts to blink her eyes rapidly. Then she turns and dashes into the house.
“I don’t think she likes it,” I state baldly. “Shit.”
Barbara-Claire rolls her eyes. “You’re a knucklehead.” She lifts her fist and taps me on the side of the head with her knuckles. “Anybody in there–there–there?” she calls out, pretending like there’s an echo.
“Dude, she loved it,” Junior says, leaning around Barbara-Claire to look at me. “Get your ass in there and let her say thank you.”
I get up and slowly walk into the house. “Evie?”
I’m still calling for her as I reach the kitchen. She walks out of the bathroom, still wiping beneath her eyes. Then she walks slowly down the hall toward me, leans against me, and hugs me. Her voice is small when she speaks, but I hear every word.
“When we were teenagers,” she says, “and you still liked me, I used to ask myself what I did to deserve you. And then when we were older and you hated me, I would ask myself what I did to deserve you. And now, you’re about the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met, and I’m still wondering what the fuck I did to deserve you.”
I heave out a quick sigh and wrap her in my arms. “Whatever I did to deserve you, Clifford, it must have been god-awful. I wish somebody would tell me what it was so I could take it back.” I chuckle as she blows out a snotty laugh against my shirt.
“I hate you so much, Grady Parker,” she says quietly, but her arms wrap around me even tighter. I squeeze her back. She lifts her head to look up at me. A lock of hair has fallen over her eyes, and I brush it back. “You can’t give me your glider.”
“I told you. Mama got it at a yard sale. It doesn’t look right at my place.”
She grins finally. “It looks perfect here.”
I tickle her sides, which makes her squirm. “I know. You might find yourself with a fancy army shelf too, if you play your cards right.”