Chaos and Control(74)

“Okay.” I return her grin. “Let’s do it.”

After dinner, I wash the dishes and put them away while Bennie heads off to bed. It’s early still, and I feel energized, not ready to settle down. Tired of feeling trapped and tied down to my problems, I need an escape—a night of drinks with strangers and letting loose. I decide to borrow Bennie’s car and head into Franklin. I throw on my favorite black dress and my badass wedges before checking myself in the mirror. For someone who’s miserable on the inside, I don’t look half bad on the outside.

I grab my wallet and Bennie’s keys from the hook by the door and head out. And, of course, Preston stands in the hallway locking his door. He doesn’t look up, but keeps his back to me as I scoot past. At the top of the stairs, I pause and grab onto the handrail. Taking a deep breath, I spin to face him only to find Preston a few inches from my face.

“Shit!” I yell and lose my balance, teetering on the top step.

Preston quickly wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. My heart is beating in my throat, not only from the almost-fall, but from being in his arms again. I grab each of his thick biceps and push him away. That frown reappears on his pretty face, and it almost dissipates my determination.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

My insides flutter, not like dandelions blowing in the wind, but like a vibrating beehive. “I’m fine. Thanks for saving me from certain death.”

“Not death, but maybe a twisted ankle. Or a concussion.”

I nod and mentally tell myself to go. My feet don’t listen. They are planted firmly in front of Preston and refusing to move. There is a battle between my head and my heart, and just for kicks, my girlie parts want a vote, too. I miss him. I miss learning about him. I miss the way he smells. I miss his schedules and his need for control. God, do I miss his kisses.

“You look great,” Preston says after a long silence.

I run my hands down the front of my dress and notice that his eyes follow my movement. “Thanks. I didn’t want to be in the house tonight.”

“I’m heading to Coffee Call. Would you like to come?” Preston glances at his watch, looks at me hopefully, and then checks his watch again.

“I don’t know. I was heading to Franklin.”

Preston nods and looks at his feet. He takes a deep breath and blows it out through his pouted lips. When he lifts his head and his eyes meet mine again, something has changed. There is an electric charge in the air between us.

“I’d really love it if you’d come with me, Wren. Give me a chance to explain myself.”

Before I overthink anything, I nod. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Relief washes over him in a way that I can physically see—an exhaled breath, relaxed shoulders, and the crinkles at his eyes.

“Do you want to change your shoes? Or would you like me to drive?”

“You can drive.”

In Preston’s truck, I sit pressed against the passenger-side door. There’s a fat, awkward silence wedged between us on the bench seat. He clicks his seatbelt into place and unfastens it. Preston struggles, repeating the action again and again, finally satisfied with the eighth try.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

I shake my head, disappointed that we have regressed back to these nervous apologies. Nowhere in this town is very far from the apartment, so after a five-minute drive, we’re parked in front of the café. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, staring into the coffee shop.

When I hop out of the truck, Preston locks my door from the inside. He pulls up on the lock and pushes it back down. I see the frustration building in his expression, his fingers clawing at the lock. Finally, he is pleased and climbs out.

Inside, Preston leads me to a table near the microphone in the corner. He slides the table toward the wall a few inches and arranges the chairs so that they are evenly spaced apart with two of them facing the staging area.

“Can I get you something?” he asks, adjusting his watch back and forth on his wrist.

“Vanilla latte, please.”

I’m a little overdressed for this place, but that doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is the flirtatious smile and fake laugh the coffee girl gives Preston. She is falling all over herself trying to get a reaction from him. Even though I no longer have claim, I am smugly satisfied when he ignores her and returns with our drinks.

Preston sets my latte down and twists the cup until the opening in the lid is facing me. He does the same with his drink and looks up at me. He wraps both hands around his cup and twists it around and around.

I sigh and take a sip of my drink. “You said you wanted a chance to explain.”

“First, I want to apologize. Saying I’m sorry is the best I can do. I mean it. I’m sorry for keeping Bennie’s condition from you. She is your sister, and you had a right to know.”

“You’re right.”

“But she did ask me to keep it from you. It wasn’t my news to tell. I owe her so much for the life she’s given me here, Wren. Bennie is my boss and my friend.”

“And what was I?”

His gray eyes hold mine, a tangible tension between us.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” A crackling voice comes over the speakers, and I look up to find a young girl at the mic. “We’re glad to have you here. All five of you. We’re starting our poetry night off with a new voice. So, show Preston some love. Get up here, you big lug.”