Page 34 of Finding Home

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As I’m placing the last plate in the dishwasher, she comes back and joins me. “You didn’t have to clean, dear,” she says.

“It’s my pleasure. You fed me, the least I can do is clean up.”

She takes a seat, and I turn and lean against the counter, tapping my fingers against the edge, trying to find a way to politely excuse myself for the evening. Mrs. Simpson tracks that real quick and says, “Don’t think I’m letting you run off that easy, girl. Come join me.” She pats the spot beside her at the table, and I slowly move across the kitchen, pulling out the chair.

“So, tell me about living with my grandson. How’s that going?”

I swallow, remembering last night in the basement. “It’s only been a couple of days, nothing really to say. We’re getting in the swing of things.”

“Is he being a grumpy asshole?” she asks, and I choke on nothing as I start coughing. Damn, this woman calls it as it is. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She sighs. “Everett didn’t necessarily grow up in the most conventional way,” she starts, and I put my hand up in a stop motion without even thinking about. She raises a brow, and I immediately put my hand in my lap.

“Sorry. It’s just, I don’t really want to learn about Everett or his childhood from outside people. I can tell he’s a private guy, and I respect that. If I’m going to learn more about him, I’d prefer it come from the horse’s mouth.”

She points at me, and my stomach drops as I prepare for a scolding, something. Instead she surprises me with, “I knew I liked you.”

“Thank you?” I mean to say, but it comes out as more of a question.

She pats my arm. “You’re just what Everett needs. Someone who will respect his boundaries but also challenge him.”

“What he needs,” I practically squeak. “I’m just helping him out right now until everything is figured out and I can find a place of my own. We’re not a thing.”

“Sure, dear,” she says and gets up. “Now, how about I pack you some extra cookies for you to take home with you to have at work tomorrow.”

The way she so causally moves on from telling me that I’m what Everett needs has my head dizzy. I sit silently, trying to figure this all out. She returns with two bags of cookies and hands them to me. “Do me a favour, dear, drop this second bag off for my grandson on your way home.”

I look at the bags, and my stomach drops. Seeing Everett tonight is the last thing I want, but I know that one of the first questions out of this woman’s mouth when she sees Everett next will be how were the cookies she asked me to drop off, and I’m not going to let him tattle on me, even if I’m a grown woman and I have no relationship to her.

I take the bags and say my thanks before heading to my car and leaning my head against the headrest, hoping and praying that I can be in and out of the fire station with no issues.

TWENTY

EVERETT

I’m writing out the report for our latest call when there’s a knock at my door. I look up and see Chloe shifting from foot to foot as she watches me.

Shocked is an understatement for how I feel right now. I take her in, the way her hoodie fits her and her jeans hug her perfect legs. Her hair is up in a messy bun with little tendrils framing her makeup-free face.How is she single?I ask myself for not the first time since meeting her.

“Hey,” she says, finally breaking the silence that’s filling the space between us.

“Hey.”

She steps into my office, and I watch as she places a bag of cookies on my desk. I raise my brow at her.

“Your grandma asked me to drop them off after dinner. I knew if I didn’t, I’d eventually hear about it,” she rushes out.

“You saw my grandma?”

She sighs and nods. “Wasn’t given much of a choice. I went to say hi when she picked up Lila, and she basically told me I had to come to dinner. It wasn’t all bad, we had a charcuterie board and watchedTangled.”

“Lila picked,” I say, a smile pulling at my lips.

“Yeah. She was very insistent, didn’t even think to try and offer another option,” she says with a small laugh.

“It’s her favourite.”

She smiles, and I could stare at that every day for the rest of my life. The way her face lights up and her eyes sparkle with it.

“She told me. I’m more of a classics girl myself, but not a bad choice.”