Page 45 of When You're Gone
“Yeah. I’m here. But honestly, V? I don’t know how else to say this. I just—I need you. I need you here. Every day brings something new between updates about my granddad and long days of events and meetings. I feel like I’m drowning. All I want at the end of the day is to hold you in my arms.”
She traced the stereo buttons on her steering wheel, listening to his words but feeling defensive about his reasoning. She had never signed up to be a housewife—to sit around waiting for him to come home after a long day. Even if she had the time, she didn’t have it in her to play that part. She had spent her entire birthday sitting around his apartment, alone, just waiting for him to come home. She hated every second of it.
“I know it feels like a lot right now, but it’s all fresh, so give yourself some grace. You’ve got this, Ev. I know you can handle this. I believe in you.”
He huffed out another sigh. “I don’t need a fucking pep talk. I just need my wife.”
Anger blossomed inside her, but it didn’t take root. It was a paper-thin emotion, swirling around like vapor, biding its time until this conversation was done and she could release it into the emptiness that lived where her empathy once had.
“I’ve got people waiting on me,” she said as she tried to pivot out of the discomfort of the conversation.
“Please don’t go.”
It was a whisper of a plea, but she felt too defensive for it to have an impact. Her walls were already up. She was done. Done with this conversation, done with the notion that what Rhett had going on in Norfolk was more important than what she had going on in Hampton.
“We can talk more about it later,” she offered half-heartedly. She knew they’d have to figure out some sort of schedule eventually. Even with Rhett in Virginia… even with her dad preparing to put her childhood home on the market… Hampton was still home. And for someone who’d lost so much—by fate, then by choice—she felt a deep-seated comfort being home.
She hadn’t felt like herself for a while. Some days she didn’t feel anything at all. But as long as she had that sense of place to fall back on, she knew she’d be okay.
“I’ve gotta go,” she insisted. “I love you, Rhett. I’m sorry I keep disappointing you. But it’ll be okay, and we’ll figure it out.”
He blew out a long breath, his voice shaky when he replied. “Text me tonight?”
“I will. I promise.”
She hung up the phone, exited the car, and walked through the five-car garage. She called into the house as she entered. Dempsey appeared in the massive arched entrance of the kitchen.
“Wendybird! Field said you guys were getting together today, but I didn’t realize it was here.”
“Hey, Dem.” She kicked her shoes off, then glanced down and frowned, embarrassed to walk into a literal mansion with bare feet.
“Um, that’s the house slipper closet there, if you want to snag a pair.” Dempsey nodded to the door next to her.
She silently balked—who the hell had a closet dedicated to slippers? Sure enough, when she opened the door, she was greeted by row after row of designer moccasins and boots in a variety of colors and sizes.
“I think Mom saw it on some Housewives reality show once…” he muttered as he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her select a pair of fuzzy pink slides.
She schooled her expression as she slipped the house shoes on her feet, letting out a little sigh. They were warm and cushy and felt like heaven.
“No complaints from me.” She shrugged, smiling at Dempsey as he led her into the kitchen.
“It’s weird seeing you here like this,” he shot over his shoulder as he walked around the polished island and pulled open one of the fridges. Yes, there were multiple refrigerators in their kitchen. And Tori suspected there was a secondary kitchen or at least a butler’s pantry tucked away somewhere, too. He snagged two waters and handed one to her.
She bit down on her lip as she cracked open the water, suddenly self-conscious to be standing in the middle of Fielding and Dempsey’s childhood home. “I hope it’s okay for me to be here like this. Fielding just thought…”
“Tori, please. At this point, you’re practically family. If my brother wants to bring you into our crazy…”
“Who are you calling crazy?” Fielding’s voice filled the expansive kitchen as he hopped over the island—clearing the polished quartz with inches to spare—before snagging his brother in a headlock.
Dempsey grunted and tried to break free, but Field had the advantage. He gave his brother a noogie—a legit, knuckles-to-scalp, back and forth noogie—then pretended to pick something out of Dempsey’s hair, inspect it, and flick it away before giving her a wink.
That wink cost him. Dempsey took advantage of his distracted state to weasel out of his grasp and sucker-punch his brother in the stomach. Fielding reacted as dramatically as possible, dropping to his knees and clutching his stomach with a drawn-out moan.
“You’re an animal,” Dempsey spat, running his fingers through his wavy blond hair, trying to get it to lie flat again. He wore it shorter than Fielding, so he didn’t have the same impressive collection of curls, and he always kept it perfectly coiffed.
“Youlove it,” Fielding taunted from the floor. “Almost as much as you love me.”
He reached his hand out so Dempsey could pull him up. Fielding jumped to his feet, but kept Dempsey’s hand in his grasp, pulling him close and resting his forehead against his brother’s for a few seconds. They held each other’s gaze and shared some sort of silent exchange. It wasn’t unlike the unspoken conversations Rhett and Jake were capable of, but it was made more intimate by the fact that the Haas brothers were mirror images of each other. Tori watched, fascinated, as a moment of genuine affection passed between them.
