The Best I Could (41 page)

“Nope. You caught me. I found it on one of
those quirky places search. I mean, who doesn’t search world’s
largest mattresses before going out on a date? Just imagine all of
that space and all of the stuff we could do on it.”

She snickered. “I bet if you search world’s
greatest bullshitter, your picture would pop up.”

“Right up there with jerkitude and
assholery.” I threw her a smile. “But seriously, no world’s largest
mattresses, no giant peanuts, and no quirky places to visit
searches. Cross my heart.”

We fell silent, the passing scenery blurring,
trapping us inside a green tunnel. Tansy, in her floral dress, was
her own garden, growing brilliantly in the driver’s seat. She drove
with her hands near the bottom of the steering wheel, sucking her
cheeks in and blowing them out as she watched the road, a fish
trying to figure out how to breathe, only she was way more
beautiful than a fish.

The sun rose higher in the sky, turning the
car into an oven.

Tansy fiddled with the air conditioner until
it whirred around us, cool and startling.

Before she could touch the steering wheel
again, I grabbed her right hand, lacing my fingers through
hers.

Her gaze dropped to our joined palms and then
returned to the road, her left hand clenching and unclenching the
steering wheel.

Heat pooled between us, her skin hot against
mine. My thumb caressed the top of her hand. Slowly.
Deliberately.

She squirmed in her seat.

“Amazing what you can do with touch,” I
murmured.

Silence.

“It’s nice,” she said finally. “Just holding
on.”

I didn’t know anything about the science of
hands, how many nerves they had hiding in them, but clasping hers
had every single one of the nerves in mine singing. Looking down at
our fingers, my sun-bronzed hand so much larger than hers, felt
strangely disconcerting. As easy as it was to hold on to someone,
it was just as easy to let go.

I loosened and unloosened my fingers around
hers.

“It means more,” she looked at me, “knowing
you can let go. Because you have a choice. Let go or keep
holding.”

“I’m that obvious?” I asked.

She gave me a soft smile. “Kind of. What do
you want to do? Hold on or let go?”

My hand tightened on hers.

Her smile grew.

In twenty years, I’d never talked to a girl
about something as simple as hand holding. Truth be told,
conversation hadn’t veered far from my typical bullshitting before
ending in the bedroom. With Mandy, it had been about lust, money,
clubs, and crowds.

My life in five words: boxing, parties,
fucking, boats, and school.

“It’s so different from the city,” Tansy said
suddenly, staring out the window. “Not that I don’t love the city.
I love Atlanta. All of the places you can go, the city lights at
night, the feel of the crowds, and knowing you can catch the MARTA
and just go, you know? We did that a lot before my mom died. On her
days off, she loved to go on adventures. Anywhere. She’d have us
close our eyes, place our fingers on this city map we kept in the
house, and just go wherever our fingers landed. It felt like we
lived inside that map and those experiences.”

Tansy grinned, remembering. “Sometimes, when
it would get late, when we were surrounded by lights and noise, by
hot and cold air on our faces, and a million conversations swirling
around us, I’d wonder what was beyond the city.”

“It depends on where you come from. Was your
mom raised in the city?”

Tansy shook her head.

“I didn’t think so. You can tell by her
excitement. People raised in the city always wonder what it’s like
outside of it. People raised in the country always wonder what it’s
like inside the city, to be a part of something so big.”

“Maybe. Where do you want to be one day …
when you settle down?” she asked.

“The sea,” I answered. No hesitation.

“Is your grandfather rich enough to buy you
an island?”

“Not even close, but even if he were, I
wouldn’t let him. Notice I don’t have a problem with him supporting
me now. But, in the end, when I’ve finished school, I plan to earn
everything I’ve got. I’m just fortunate enough to have someone who
can help support me while getting there.”

“You are that.”

Tansy had support, but not the kind I did.
Her climb to success would be a lot harder than mine.

“You know, if—”

“Don’t even finish that thought,” she warned,
smiling. “We all have different paths. Easy or hard, they’re ours.
I don’t need help with mine, though I’m not going to pretend I
don’t envy yours. You have a really awesome grandfather.”

“Your grandmother is pretty special,
too.”

“Yeah, she is,” Tansy admitted. “She’d do
more if I asked, but I kind of need to do this the hard way. It
feels funny asking her for anything when she hasn’t been a part of
our lives the last few years.”

No matter the drama with my mother and the
horror my father had brought into our lives, my pops had always
been there.

Tansy’s hand tightened in mine. “If you’re
feeling guilty, don’t. We’re not playing the ‘whose life is better
or worse’ game. I hate when people do that. Rich, poor, or
middle-class, we’ve all got problems. We’ve all got secrets and
shit in our pasts. I can think of a handful of people off the top
of my head who have it worse than me, and another handful who have
it better. It doesn’t change things.” She glanced at me. “It
doesn’t change who you choose to be friends with ... together
with.”

My gaze slid to the road. “You’re going to
take the next exit. That awesome grandfather of mine also has some
awesome friends.”

“Oh, this is going to be extravagant, isn’t
it?”

I laughed. “Actually, not as much as you
think.”

Releasing my hand, she took the exit.

“Left,” I told her.

Turning, she drove a few miles down the road,
before I said, “Stop there!”

She swung into a parking lot, peered up at
the old brick building in front of us, and gawked. “A grocery
store?”

Letting myself out of the car, I walked
around the Buick, and pulled her door open. “Perfect get to know
each other date. Are you more a meats and vegetables kind of girl,
or do you prefer processed, microwaveable stuff?”

Climbing out, she grinned. “Ramen noodles.
That shit’s all affordable. If you want something different, just
stir in a little cheese or experiment with spices. That was before.
Since moving in with my grandmother, it’s been a lot of
casseroles.”

Placing my hand on the small of her back, I
nudged her gently. “Come, let’s find something non-ramen and
non-casserole.”

Shaking with silent laughter, she walked
ahead of me, heels clicking against the pavement. I enjoyed the
view, the way the dress clung to her curves while swinging softly
against her legs.

Refrigerated air whooshed over us when the
doors opened, the scarred tile polished to shine, and the smell of
deli goods thick in the air.

Grabbing one of the baskets they kept near
the shopping carts, I headed for the deli section.

“This is weird.” Tansy scrunched her nose. “I
mean, not that I think you’ve never been in a grocery store, but …
are you one of those guys who looks all tough but turns out to be a
closet chef? You’re taking me to some restaurant, aren’t you? Where
your grandfather knows people so that you can suddenly commandeer
the kitchen and whip up greatness.”

“Again … too extravagant, and I can’t cook
worth a damn. Unless you count frozen pizzas.”

Entering the deli section, I plunked cheese
and sliced deli meat into the basket.

“Turkey please,” Tansy said.

“Don’t be shy, roof girl. Just throw it in
the basket.”

Her brows rose. “You’re going to wish you
didn’t say that.”

By the time we were ready to check out, we’d
thrown in French bread, grapes—Tansy preferred the red, seedless
kind—and a variety of cheesecake slices. Not to mention, chocolate
cake.

Tansy was a fruits and sweets kind of
girl.

In the checkout line, she picked up a tabloid
magazine and flipped through it. “This stuff always makes me feel
better about my life, even if most of it is fake.”

“What? You don’t think what’s-his-name could
hook up with what’s-her-name while their married counterparts are
hooking up the same weekend.”

“It’s plausible until you throw in the alien
baby,” Tansy admitted.

I laughed. “Alien baby? What kind of tabloid
are you reading?”

Her eyes twinkled. “I threw that in there for
entertainment value since we’re in a grocery store and not
Atlanta.”

“There are grocery stores in Atlanta,” I
pointed out.

“And a freak ton of restaurants,” she
countered.

“Freak ton? I’m going to start writing these
words down and call it the Tansy Dictionary.”

“You should. It would sell well. The new
trend in language.”

“Ready to check out?” the woman behind the
register asked, catching our attention.

I slid the basket over.

Tansy snuck the tabloid onto
the belt with it. “They’re completely terrible and
not
educational … and
strangely addicting,” she murmured when she caught me
looking.

Pulling my wallet out, I smiled. “We all have
our hang-ups.”

She wasn’t paying attention to me anymore.
Her eyes were on the teenage boy bagging the groceries. “Do you
have any reusable bags?”

The boy, a lanky kid with big eyes and small
lips, glanced at the woman checking our items.

“In the back,” the woman mumbled, running the
chocolate cake over the scanner. “We don’t get asked for them a
lot.”

Lanky kid disappeared, coming back with a
canvas bag.

“It’ll cost extra,” the checkout woman
informed us.

Tansy started to speak, but I handed the
extra money over. “We’ll take it.”

Lanky boy bagged up the purchases, and then
handed it to me.

“Thanks,” Tansy said once we were
outside.

At the Buick, I opened her door, turned to
peer down into her face, and placed my free hand against her cheek.
“Never apologize for doing something you think is right.”

“I’m not super obsessed or anything, but it’s
the small things. I have a reusable bag at home, but I don’t keep
it in the car.”

My thumb smoothed over her skin. I couldn’t
get enough of touching her. “Fruits, sweets, tabloids, and
eco-friendly … what else do I need to know?”

She shrugged. “I’ve recently learned I’m
allergic to running. Truly. Gives me hives and everything.”

My laugh rang out over the parking lot.
Bantering with Tansy was never boring.

“Come on, I’ve got something to show
you.”

Tansy

The grocery store had been a shock, but it
was nothing compared to the dirt road Eli told me to turn down ten
minutes later.

My gaze swung to his profile, my eyes
dropping to the skin revealed by his navy blue shirt. He’d left the
first two buttons undone, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he did
it on purpose.

The car rocked, and I hit the brakes,
slowing. “You’re taking me to the middle of nowhere.”

“Just a little farther, I promise,” he
assured.

Trees surrounded us, the dirt road narrow
enough that low hanging limbs brushed the sides of my car.

“It’s a good thing the scratches those
branches are leaving behind aren’t going to mess up the whole rust
thing I’ve got going on with old Buey here.”

Eli chuckled.

“In other news, this is a good place to hide
a body,” I added.

“Look,” he said, ducking his head to peer out
the windshield.

My gaze flew to the forest, my foot slamming
against the brakes, my eyes widening. “Holy shit!”

There among the trees was a magnificent
treehouse. Not the kind built for a child to play in, but the kind
they made television shows about. This treehouse consisted of two
separate buildings connected by a rope bridge. The larger structure
wrapped around the tree that supported it, the wall facing us a
bank of windows. Strung fairy lights lined the wood, the bulbs
glowing in the dim tree cover. At night, they had to be
breathtaking.

“What is this?” I whispered.

“It belongs to an older couple, friends of my
grandfather’s. They had it built years ago after the wife retired.
They wanted a place they could go to get away from everything, and
a place their children and grandchildren could stay when they
visited. They also let friends and family stay in it when they’re
in town. I talked to Brent, the guy who owns it, and we’ve got it
for today. Not overnight, but you don’t want to miss this place
once the sun sets.”

My chest was tight, making it almost
impossible to breathe. “You’ve been here before?”

“Years ago. Back when it was cool for me to
pretend I was Peter Pan fighting Captain Hook from the deck.” He
laughed. “I came with Pops when I was eleven. He was here to talk
business with Brent, and I needed the time away from my
mother.”

“It’s perfect,” I found myself saying.
Grabbing the door handle, I shoved the driver’s side door open, and
jumped out of the car.

“It seemed like a Tansy place to be,” Eli
remarked, climbing out across from me.

Our eyes met over the Buick’s roof.

“This …” My gaze slid to the treehouse. “I
kind of expected dinner and a movie.”

Not magic. I hadn’t expected magic.

Ducking his head, Eli pulled out the reusable
shopping bag, and held it up. “Dinner.”

Shutting my door, I stepped toward the
treehouse. “Can we?”

“Go,” he said, smiling. “But pull those heels
off. I want to keep you in one piece.”

The stairs were thin wooden rungs leading up
into the trees. Leaning down, I pulled my heels off one at a time
and started to climb, Eli behind me.