“Get out,” Kate says quietly from across the kitchen. She says it so very quietly, and yet the anger in her tone causes me to jerk in surprise.
Michelle just swivels her head toward Kate slowly. “What did you just say?”
“I said get out of this house,” Kate replies.
Michelle’s mouth drops open, just for a brief moment, before her eyes narrow at Kate and she says, “Just what gives you the right—”
Kate cuts her off as she starts stalking across the kitchen toward Michelle. Her voice is low, though, so it doesn’t carry into the living room, where Ben can overhear. “Who in the fuck do you think you are to lay judgment on Zack? What gives you the right to dictate the way he mourns? You know nothing about him or the pain he’s still in. You don’t see the way he keeps Gina’s memory alive every day with Ben, talking about her so their little boy never forgets. You don’t know a fucking thing about Zack and you certainly have absolutely no right to voice your opinion in this matter. You’re the one who should be ashamed for even trying to make him feel bad when he’s already still grieving, so I will repeat once again…you get out of this house right now or I will throw you out myself.”
This last statement is made as she rounds the corner of the kitchen counter and comes nose to nose with Michelle.
I’m shocked stupid, so I just sit there and watch as fury blazes from Kate’s eyes and Michelle tries to hold a staring war with her.
She’s not going to win this one, though.
Finally, Michelle’s gaze drops in defeat and she pushes off the stool she’s sitting on. Kate takes a step back to give her room and waits quietly as Michelle grabs her purse and heads for the front door. We both watch as she doesn’t turn back to look at us or say a thing. She merely leaves quietly, and I wait until we hear the front door open and then close before I let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I scrub my hand through my hair, all the way to the back of my neck, where I rub at it hard to relieve the stiffness.
Kate doesn’t say a word, but calmly walks past me toward the staircase again.
In a total replay, my hand strikes out, grabbing her wrist. She turns to look at me and I study her face. Pure passivity right now, when twenty seconds ago she was ready to throw down.
“You didn’t have to say those things,” I tell her.
Kate shrugs. “You shouldn’t have had to listen to the things she said. She’s wrong.”
Something rattles and then breaks free from deep within my chest. I can’t identify what it is, but suddenly I accept what Kate says.
Michelle is wrong. She has no clue the way I suffer over Gina. Hearing Kate and the way she laid it all out…it gave me peace over my decision.
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely, and she gives me the sweetest smile in return.
“Anything for you, Pumpkin Butt.”
Shaking my head with a grin, I let her wrist go. She starts back toward the stairs, but before she goes, I tell her, “I want you to go with me and Ben today to look at the houses with the real estate agent.”
She stops in her tracks, looking at me in confusion. “Why?”
Because I like having you around. Because you make me laugh. Because you get me and you’re gorgeous to look at. Because you have my back. Take your pick.
“Because you know Ben and what he likes,” I mutter, not able to truly voice why I want her to go.
Kate gives me a dismissive smirk. “You know Ben better than I do,” she says, and then turns for the stairs once more.
“Then I need you to help me keep an eye on him,” I press her, and give her a look that dares her to argue.
She huffs and continues up the staircase, growling, “Fine, Mr. Bossy Pants.”
Typical Kate…it makes me laugh.
—
“I hate to say this,” Kate says almost sadly. “But this is the one.” I think I have to agree with her. This is only the third house we looked at and we still have two more, but I was sold the minute we walked out into the backyard. It was huge and fenced in, filled with lush green grass, because grass always stays green in North Carolina in the winter. Best of all, there was a massive custom-built tree house and play set made of red cedar that had a slide, two swings, and a set of monkey bars. Ben took off toward it and hasn’t come down since.
“The owners have already moved,” I point out to the agent, a middle-aged woman named Theresa Vandemere whom Coach Pretore recommended to me. “Would they be willing to rent to me while we are waiting on the house to close?”
“You’d want to move immediately?” she asks.
“Yeah…I think so,” I say, and once the words are out, I know they’re true. “Besides…it would make it easier on me not to have to worry about showing the house while we were living in it.”
“I’m sure they’d be amenable to that,” she says. “I still need to show you the upstairs, though.”
Placing my hand on Kate’s lower back, I give her a push toward the house. “Theresa…do you mind keeping an eye on Ben while Kate and I run upstairs and take a look around?”
She looks slightly put out that she can’t showcase the house to me, but gives me an assuring smile. “I’d be glad to. Just holler down if you have any questions.”
“Come on,” I tell Kate, and stride by her. We have to climb a set of stairs to a raised outdoor deck, as the yard actually sits at the basement level. We enter through the living room and head toward the staircase that curves up from the front foyer.
Michelle just swivels her head toward Kate slowly. “What did you just say?”
“I said get out of this house,” Kate replies.
Michelle’s mouth drops open, just for a brief moment, before her eyes narrow at Kate and she says, “Just what gives you the right—”
Kate cuts her off as she starts stalking across the kitchen toward Michelle. Her voice is low, though, so it doesn’t carry into the living room, where Ben can overhear. “Who in the fuck do you think you are to lay judgment on Zack? What gives you the right to dictate the way he mourns? You know nothing about him or the pain he’s still in. You don’t see the way he keeps Gina’s memory alive every day with Ben, talking about her so their little boy never forgets. You don’t know a fucking thing about Zack and you certainly have absolutely no right to voice your opinion in this matter. You’re the one who should be ashamed for even trying to make him feel bad when he’s already still grieving, so I will repeat once again…you get out of this house right now or I will throw you out myself.”
This last statement is made as she rounds the corner of the kitchen counter and comes nose to nose with Michelle.
I’m shocked stupid, so I just sit there and watch as fury blazes from Kate’s eyes and Michelle tries to hold a staring war with her.
She’s not going to win this one, though.
Finally, Michelle’s gaze drops in defeat and she pushes off the stool she’s sitting on. Kate takes a step back to give her room and waits quietly as Michelle grabs her purse and heads for the front door. We both watch as she doesn’t turn back to look at us or say a thing. She merely leaves quietly, and I wait until we hear the front door open and then close before I let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I scrub my hand through my hair, all the way to the back of my neck, where I rub at it hard to relieve the stiffness.
Kate doesn’t say a word, but calmly walks past me toward the staircase again.
In a total replay, my hand strikes out, grabbing her wrist. She turns to look at me and I study her face. Pure passivity right now, when twenty seconds ago she was ready to throw down.
“You didn’t have to say those things,” I tell her.
Kate shrugs. “You shouldn’t have had to listen to the things she said. She’s wrong.”
Something rattles and then breaks free from deep within my chest. I can’t identify what it is, but suddenly I accept what Kate says.
Michelle is wrong. She has no clue the way I suffer over Gina. Hearing Kate and the way she laid it all out…it gave me peace over my decision.
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely, and she gives me the sweetest smile in return.
“Anything for you, Pumpkin Butt.”
Shaking my head with a grin, I let her wrist go. She starts back toward the stairs, but before she goes, I tell her, “I want you to go with me and Ben today to look at the houses with the real estate agent.”
She stops in her tracks, looking at me in confusion. “Why?”
Because I like having you around. Because you make me laugh. Because you get me and you’re gorgeous to look at. Because you have my back. Take your pick.
“Because you know Ben and what he likes,” I mutter, not able to truly voice why I want her to go.
Kate gives me a dismissive smirk. “You know Ben better than I do,” she says, and then turns for the stairs once more.
“Then I need you to help me keep an eye on him,” I press her, and give her a look that dares her to argue.
She huffs and continues up the staircase, growling, “Fine, Mr. Bossy Pants.”
Typical Kate…it makes me laugh.
—
“I hate to say this,” Kate says almost sadly. “But this is the one.” I think I have to agree with her. This is only the third house we looked at and we still have two more, but I was sold the minute we walked out into the backyard. It was huge and fenced in, filled with lush green grass, because grass always stays green in North Carolina in the winter. Best of all, there was a massive custom-built tree house and play set made of red cedar that had a slide, two swings, and a set of monkey bars. Ben took off toward it and hasn’t come down since.
“The owners have already moved,” I point out to the agent, a middle-aged woman named Theresa Vandemere whom Coach Pretore recommended to me. “Would they be willing to rent to me while we are waiting on the house to close?”
“You’d want to move immediately?” she asks.
“Yeah…I think so,” I say, and once the words are out, I know they’re true. “Besides…it would make it easier on me not to have to worry about showing the house while we were living in it.”
“I’m sure they’d be amenable to that,” she says. “I still need to show you the upstairs, though.”
Placing my hand on Kate’s lower back, I give her a push toward the house. “Theresa…do you mind keeping an eye on Ben while Kate and I run upstairs and take a look around?”
She looks slightly put out that she can’t showcase the house to me, but gives me an assuring smile. “I’d be glad to. Just holler down if you have any questions.”
“Come on,” I tell Kate, and stride by her. We have to climb a set of stairs to a raised outdoor deck, as the yard actually sits at the basement level. We enter through the living room and head toward the staircase that curves up from the front foyer.
