Desperate Chances
Page 43

And we took a detour back into awkward.
I cleared my throat and struggled to get us back to less uneasy territory. “So with all this free time, what will you be doing? Maybe you could take up shuffleboard. Hey how about archery?” I suggested with an insane little giggle. My voice sounded overly bright. I really needed to tone it down a bit. I came across as mildly manic.
Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, no I think I’ll pass on the shuffleboard.”
“Yeah, who likes shuffleboard? I mean except for my grandma. She’s a shuffleboard freak.”
Shut up, Gracie! Just shut the hell up!
“Huh. I’ll make sure not to challenge your grandma to a shuffleboard competition anytime soon. Is this the same grandma that pinched my butt while your parents grilled me about my lack of gainful employment?” he asked and I snorted.
“Crap, I forgot about that!” I exclaimed, covering my eyes with my hand in mortification.
Mitch had come by my parents’ house to pick me up from dinner once. I had sent him a frantic SOS asking him to save me from the horror that was my parents and extended family.
Mitch had come inside and attempted to make polite conversation with my mom and dad. My parents were cold and dismissive, nothing new there. They had asked him why he didn’t get a real job and I had wanted to slap them both.
My grandmother on the other hand had already downed a half a bottle of wine and proceeded to comment on his “tight bottom” and gave it a pinch in full view of my grandfather, who continued to smoke his cigar and talk about politics.
“I thought she was going to slip me her phone number. She gave me a wink as we were leaving if I remember correctly,” Mitch mused.
“Oh my god,” I groaned.
“I don’t know, maybe she was trying to get her grand-cougar on.”
“G—Grand-cougar?” I sputtered.
Mitch’s face split into a wide grin and he laughed loudly. “Your face is priceless!”
I smacked his knee with my hand, trying to ignore how good it felt to touch him. “I’m going to need more therapy just to erase the thought of my grandmother grand-cougaring.” I shuddered.
“Even grandmas need lovin’, G.”
He used the nickname again. My heart fluttered wildly and my stomach did a few somersaults.
“Okay, enough already! My poor brain can’t take the images!” I poked my fingers in my ears.
Mitch pulled my hands down. “I’ll stop scarring you. I promise,” he said and I realized instantly how close we were. His continued to lightly hold my hands in my lap where they had dropped after he had pulled them from my face. I wanted to curl my fingers and intertwine them with his.
But I couldn’t.
His hands weren’t mine to hold.
I pulled away and wiped my suddenly damp palms on my jeans. “So, I guess we should go back inside. The fire seems to be dying down.” I motioned towards the bonfire, which was barely smoldering.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cold out here. I should probably call Sophie back,” Mitch remarked blandly. Her name was said as though to make a point.
I get it, Mitch. I really do.
“Yeah, you don’t want her wondering where you are.” I realized I sounded as though I were chewing on broken glass. Brittle and bleeding.
Mitch got to his feet and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He started to walk away but then stopped, turning back to face me.
“I know things have been…well…bad between us. This past weekend got a little out of control, I think,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes.
“Yeah, it did. I guess we both had stuff that we wanted to say, but that wasn’t the place to do it,” I agreed, clenching my hands together in my lap—the hands that he had so briefly held between his own.
“We used to talk about everything,” Mitch said quietly.
“And now we don’t talk about anything,” I continued just as quietly.
We were both silent, the only noise was that of the crackling fire and the soft strains of laughter drifting down from the house.
“I’ve tried really hard not to think about you,” Mitch admitted, his chin tucked into his chest.
“I understand—” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“I go about my day. I live my life. And I push you so far from my thoughts that it’s easy to forget what it’s like just being around you,” he went on. He tilted his head back to stare up at the clear night sky.
“But then when you’re around, I remember. And it hurts, Gracie. It hurts a lot.” Mitch’s voice cracked and he stopped speaking. I wondered if he was going to finish.
God, I wanted him to finish.
After a few minutes he lowered his head and finally looked at me. It was too dark to see much of his face, but I could see the fire glinting in his eyes and that was enough.
“I remember how much fun we always had. I remember how you’d kick my ass playing X-Box and then rub it in my face for a good three days afterwards.”
“Only because it was richly deserved,” I interjected.
Mitch sort of smiled. A slight lifting of lips that quickly fell again. “I remember Chunky Monkey and you sleeping in my bed even when I couldn’t touch you. Not like I wanted to. I remember how you’d listen to me play my music and you made sure to be right up front, so I could see you from the stage. That meant a lot, Gracie. I don’t think you realize how much.”
“It meant a lot to me too. I love hearing you play. I always have.”