Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(98)

And now, here I am, thinking about kissing Reese tonight before I left her, and how much I didn’t want to leave her.

To be honest, I was expecting the novelty of Reese to wear off after Friday night; that finally getting her into my bed would have satisfied this intense urge that’s been driving me crazy for weeks. I mean, I’m a guy who likes the chase. That’s always been the case. But it’s not the case with Reese.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Now, I just want to hold onto her to keep her from getting away. And leaving her tonight, thinking about her possibly hooking up with that douchebag ex of hers, had my teeth grinding against each other. I know that part of it is her giving him the time of day after how much he hurt her. But most of it’s not, because when I think about her hooking up with anyone else, I feel the exact same tight ball forming in my stomach.

Yeah, things have definitely changed. I’m just not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.



“How’d you sleep, darling?” Mama asks from her seat on the back porch, one of Grandma’s knit blankets wrapped around her as she sips at her tea.

I lean in to lay a kiss on her head. “Out like a light, as usual. You know that.” Once my body shuts down, it takes a lot to wake me up. I was teasing Reese yesterday. If she was talking or doing anything else in her sleep, I have no f*cking clue.

Mama smiles. “You always were my best sleeper. Such a happy, easy baby.”

I set my cup of coffee down on the small end table—another piece made by my father; the house is like a Joshua Morris museum—and settle myself into a chair. “When’s everyone getting here?”

“Elsie should be here this afternoon. Rob and Jake will be here Wednesday with their families. Josh, not until late Thursday. He can’t afford to lose time with work.” My oldest brother—my father’s namesake and arguably a chip off the old block—works as a crane operator in Chicago. At least he’s admitted that he has a drinking problem and is trying to get help. The medical bills, coupled with child support and alimony, mean he’s struggling to make ends meet in a shitty studio apartment in one of Chicago’s less desirable areas.

“It’s gonna to be a full house.”

“I know.” Mama smiles sadly. “It’s been a long time since I could say that.” She holds out a plate of cake. “Here, have some of this. We have twenty more waiting inside.”

“Neighbors have been good to us.” I gladly reach out and grab a piece, stuffing it into my mouth.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”

I moan in response. I never turn down sweets, though I probably should. If I ever stop working out, I’ll end up with a gut like Jack’s in no time.

“Hayley made it.”

“Who’s Hayley?” Crumbs fly out of my mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mama scolds. “Lorna’s daughter. She’s coming by to help pick. Yesterday’s harvest went over to the packing place this morning. They’ll be on the road by this afternoon.”

At least that’s taken care of. I still can’t believe Reese was out there that long, filling those crates. I could kiss her for it. Hell, I could kiss her for anything, but that’s as good an excuse as any.

There’s a pause. “There’s always room here for one more.”

I shoot her a confused look.

“Reese, son,” she clarifies with an exasperated sigh. “Why don’t you invite her to come up and stay with us.”

“Well, for one thing, because she works full time. Plus, why would she want to hang out here for an entire week while we get ready for a funeral?”

She takes a small sip of her tea. “Something tells me she would.”

Of course. Which brings me to what I haven’t had a chance to say earlier. “Mama, you’ve gotta stop telling people that Reese is my girlfriend.”

“Oh, did that slip out accidentally?” She makes a show of dusting crumbs off her hand, her eyes averted.

“Just once or twice,” I mock softly, leaning back into my chair to stretch my feet out. “We’re just friends. I don’t need things to get confusing by putting labels on it.”

“You think the label’s going to change what’s going on?” I catch her lips curl into a smile, as if she knows some secret, but she hides it behind another sip. What the hell did those two women talk about out there yesterday? It was a sly move on Mama’s part. One minute she’s in the kitchen. Then I head to the can and she’s gone when I come out.

“How was dropping her off last night? Did your boss say anything about you two?”

“He offered his condolences and told me that family comes first.”

“Hmm . . . sounds like a good man,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, he is.” And I’m starting to feel guilty for what I’m doing with his stepdaughter, especially after our talk. He must have figured it out by now.

“Well, I’ve booked the funeral for Friday. Pastor Phillips said he can do it. I don’t want to bother with a visitation. I don’t expect many people . . .” Her voice drifts off and her gaze becomes distant.

“Not for him, anyway.” As soon as I see her flinch at my words, I regret it. I’ve been really careful not to talk like that, not to let any of my feelings come out. It only hurts her.