Page 23 of Sin Bins and Second Chances
“That’s beautiful, Grandma.”
I couldn’t imagine someone going through all of that effort. It was like something out of a romance book. The effort someone would put in to prove just how meant to be two people are. It’s also one of the many reasons I love a romance story. I love the idea of love.
Maybe it’s the old soul in me battling with being a modern woman. I want to prove howcapable I am at doing things myself. Show myself I can do it all alone. It doesn’t mean I want to do it alone. I guess I’m a hopeless romantic, extra heavy on the hopeless part.
If the rest of my life remains the same, I can find happiness. Just as I find happiness in the moments now. At least, I hoped I could. Then, sometimes, I think how great it would be to have that kind of love—like my grandparents have. Just like my parents had.
If things had worked out differently, maybe I would have it. I couldn’t take that chance, not back then. Even if I could go back and do things differently—I wouldn’t. I couldn’t be selfish.
“Plus, he’s always been nice to look at.” She grins.
“Oh, geez.” I shake my head.
“Where do you think all the good looks in the family come from?” She gestures to herself and nods towards him. “It’s all in the genes, baby girl.”
I laugh with her at that.
“What are you two laughing at?” Grandpa walks over.
“Girl stuff,” she teases him before he kisses her.She hands him his drink and something wrapped up in a napkin.
“Looks like you have a visitor.” Grandpa gestures to the road.
I look over to see a white truck turn down the path to my house. Ethan?
“He’s a keeper.” Grandma whispers to me. “Go on now.”
I hesitate. Fear keeping me rooted in place. What is he even doing here? After last night, I didn’t think he’d be back. The entire evening has been replaying in my head. I thought something was starting, but then we ate and he left. He acted like a true gentleman. The problem was that I didn’t know if that was what I wanted.
“He’s early.” Grandpa interrupts my thoughts.
Grandma chuckles next to me. “We’ll see you both for supper.”
My tongue sticks to the top of my mouth as I nod in disbelief. They invited him to family supper? It shouldn’t have surprised me. Andrew’s teammates have all been invited many times. It was practically an open invitation.
This was different.
Ethan wasn’t just a member of theLonestar Bobcats. He’s been to family supper more than most, but that was before. Nearly a decade has passed.
For a moment, fear anchors me in place. I am not ready.
“Go on, Daisy.” Grandma insists.
I blow out a breath and nod. “See y’all soon.” I walk down the path to my golf cart, hop on, and take off towards my house.
The closer I get, the more the nerves kick up. My anxiety and doubt persist until I see his truck parked next to my little bug, as if it’s perfectly normal. It feels weird, an unexplainable calm weird that has my heart rate steadying until I see him standing on my porch.
If, after all of this time, he still has this effect on me, this is dangerous. I’m not ready to be vulnerable. My heart can’t take it. If he finds out the truth and hates me even more. I shake my head at the thought. I can’t do it. If I couldn’t do it in person back then, there is no way I can handle it now.
Being vulnerable isn’t something I feel capable of. The walls I’d carefully built over the years needed to remain. Even if we’d shared a couple of kisses, we can’t do it again. I need tokeep him at arm’s length. This isn’t something I can give in to, no matter how much my heart argues. I need to listen to my head. My heart will thank me later.
I park under the small carport and slide off the bench. Fear slows my approach as I attempt to steady my erratic heartbeat. Afraid to fall and get hurt. Afraid I can’t say no. But mostly, afraid these feelings I have are one-sided. I can’t decide what’s more troubling: that it’s in my imagination or that it’s not.
When Ethan kissed me last night, I thought it meant something. It felt big. Then it ended, we ate, and he went home. That was it. He didn’t press for another kiss or anything. Did he regret it? Did he realize it was a mistake?
“Hey,” I practically whisper as I walk up the steps.
“I—” he hesitates, then holds out the flowers. “Your grandparents invited me to supper, and I didn’t want to show up later and you be surprised to see me. Again. So, I thought if I showed up here early…” his voice trails off.
