Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (18 page)

“I love Jackson for her. But you didn’t see the hell Rodney put her through. And he did treat her good before they got married. I can see how she didn’t see it, but I had that feeling.”

“Probably made her stronger. The great mom that she is. The thoughtful partner. The partner that will stand up for herself, and Jackson loves that about her.”

“He does. Doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. Never thought I’d see him like this. But it suits him.”

“That’s what’
s important.
” She nodded with a smile. “And Angie is over the moon happy.” She paused. “How about you? You seem to have the same views on marriage that I do. Why is it okay for you and yet you question me?”

“Double standard. You’re right. I apologize.”

“I’m not asking for an apology.”

“I want to be me. I love my life. The creativity of building the cars. The excitement of the projects. Starting with a mess and creating something that dazzles the mind.”

“Won’t keep you warm at night.”

“That
is
a problem.”

She cocked her head. “Somehow I doubt that.” And why was she wondering what it would be like to wake up to that face each morning?

“There you are,” Jackson said. “We’re ready to head out. Angie’s hanging here awhile. You coming with us?”

Noah hesitated, but he got up. “Yeah. Sure.” He looked back to Megan. “Good talking to you tonight.”

“I really enjoyed it.” Her smile was easy. “A lot.”

Me too.
He nodded toward Jackson, in their unspoken agreement that he’d tell him about Rodney showing up. “Yeah. I’ve got this.” He gave her a wink as he walked away.

He walked inside with Jackson. Ford and Derek were hanging by the door where Jackson had parked.

They all got in the truck, and Noah said, “So, there was a visitor tonight. An uninvited one.”

“What are you talking about?” Ford asked.

Noah directed his words to Jackson, but was glad to know that all four of them would be on the same page. “Angie’s ex showed up earlier. Drunker than hell. Wanting to share advice with you.”

Jackson spun around. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Megan spotted him while we were sitting out there talking. I had a quick chat with him and sent him on his way. Not sure if he’ll show up tomorrow, but we probably should be prepared for it.”

“He’s an ass.”

“I gathered that. And a little crazy eyed. And he’s big by the way.”

“I don’t care how big he is.”

“Easy to talk big and bad, but he’s that kid’s dad and no matter what a jerk he is, he’s going to be in y’all’s lives until that kid is eighteen. Hell, maybe longer.”

“He’s not a father to Billy. And, trust me, I’m crystal clear on the custody agreement. That loser doesn’t even care.”

“You will be a great stepfather. I know you will be, but Jackson, don’t you kid yourself into thinking it’s going to be this cozy three-person family, because that guy is going to be swooping and stirring shit whenever he damn well pleases.”

“I don’t doubt that he’ll stir up trouble. But that was part of the package from the start. She’s worth it.”

“Okay. I’m just saying.”

“I know. Noah, I hope you meet someone who turns your every belief on its head one day. I know what you’re saying and I know that you mean well, but I love Angie. She makes me feel like my life is worth living. I want to wake up every day and see her face. I want to raise Billy, and if having those two in my life means that I have to pay the price of some bad days . . . it’s a small price.”

“I’m honestly happy for you. And Angie really does seem great.”

“I knew you’d like her.”

“I do. I think she’s good for you.” Noah couldn’t dispute their obvious connection. “Now, that doesn’t mean I feel any differently about marriage. I’m still not a believer. I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid, but I do believe
you’re
happy. And I’m proud to be your best man.”

“That’s all I can ask of you, man.”

Only it was easy to say that he wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid, but something in the water here in Boot Creek must be doing something, because he was having some serious feelings about Megan in just a few short days. No woman had ever made him feel this way. This right. Right enough that he didn’t even care if he couldn’t get the car. As long as he could get the girl. It was like a late-night, alien-body-snatching B movie.

He looked out the window into the dark countryside.
Probably a crop circle out there right now.

Chapter Thirteen

Megan took a deep breath in and let it out. The meteorologist had hit the nail on the head—for once. The heat wave had finally offered a reprieve and the skies were brilliant Carolina blue against cotton-candy-like clouds.

A perfect day for a wedding.

Perfect for a couple to start their happily ever after.

And yet Megan felt like she could cry or fall apart at any moment.

If it wasn’t so darned early in the morning, she’d pour herself a drink to calm down. But that wasn’t going to solve the problem.

She could have solved the problem last weekend, only she’d chickened out. Now she had no choice but to get in that car and take it over to the church.

It’s a car. This is ridiculous. This is not a big deal.

But it didn’t matter how many times she said it. To herself or out loud up on the rooftop patio. It felt huge.

Still in her pajamas, she sipped coffee from a tall mug. The morning air was fresh, and the birds seemed to be pretty happy about it too. Squirrels chattered, and the sounds of Boot Creek waking up and getting to work on a Saturday morning reminded her she’d already been sitting there too long. And she wondered how much her opinion of this nice morning had been influenced by the time spent with Noah. He’d buoyed her mood and sparked interests in things that she thought she’d set aside for good. But anxiety coursed through her, making her muscles ache.

She had no good reason to feel this way. Dad had been the one to say yes to letting Jackson and Angie use the car to begin with. He’d trusted Jackson. Why couldn’t she? Angie was her best friend and her dad had treated her like a second daughter. He’d have loved to have been here for this wedding. He’d originally been the one that was going to give her away. It had worked out fine that Derek would do it. They were as close as any two friends could be.

She’d washed her hair before coming outside, and now it was nearly dry. A tangle of curls, but Flynn was doing all of their hair in updos for the wedding anyway. She’d stalled just about as long as she could.

With her mug in hand, she went downstairs and turned off the coffeepot and put her mug in the dishwasher.

She changed out of her pajamas into a pair of yoga pants and a loose fitting baseball-jersey-style shirt that had B
LESSED
across the front in a bright blue, swirly font, the same color as the sleeves. She slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and picked up the tote bag she’d packed with all of the things she’d need to get ready at the church.

Dread filled her as she walked toward the garage. Her hand slipped on the knob as she twisted it, her palm sweaty.

She flipped the light switch.

Daddy’s car was now hers. This car made a statement. It was the perfect representation of Daddy. Big, audacious, shiny with unexpected strength and charm.

She walked in and set her bag down next to the car.

Not once, ever, had she driven it. Daddy had always done the driving.

Anxiety swept over her.

Keep moving. Just do it.

The huge metal-and-glass overhead door that opened to the back parking lot was an old manual-pull type.

She walked over and wrapped her hands around the weathered rope pulls. She tugged with all of her weight. It was in working order but was always hard to get moving. The first few inches were a booger-bear every time.

One day I’m going to be able to afford an electric opener for this thing.

She gave it one more good tug. The pulley and gravity finally took control, sending the door rolling up with a clatter.

On edge, she jumped back, even though she’d gone through the routine of opening this door dozens of times. But it was her own fault that she was now in this position. Had she been brave enough to confide in Angie about the car and told her about the limo, she probably would’ve understood. Not that even she herself really did. It didn’t make sense, and in her mind, she knew it was an over-the-top desire to hang on to an old memory through a car, but it was there. And it felt all too real. And regardless . . . it was too late to change it.
Calm down.

Licking her lips, she walked back over to the car to open the driver’s-side door. Standing there, she stared inside. She let her hand rest on the gold ragtop. He’d held up well. A strong car. Like Daddy. He always made an entrance. An impression.

She smiled, an image of her father laughing in her mind. Daddy had always had a way of filling a room. She loved that about him. This car kind of did the same thing. It made a lasting impression.

It was only right that Daddy would have wanted Angie and Jackson to start their new life together driving off in this car.

Jackson was everything she could’ve wished for her best friend in this world.
I’m almost a little envious. What would it feel like to be loved like that? To have someone there to spot me through every good and bad day?

I’m stalling.

But what was the harm? She’d given herself plenty of time that morning. And that had been easy, since she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink last night.

Walking around the car, she allowed her hand to glide across the smooth finish. As shiny as if it had just come off the showroom floor, her hand smoothly swept around each curve of the car. Tracing its contour. Remembering the Saturday mornings she and her dad had spent hand washing it and using the special chamois he only used on this car. It was an all-day affair. Not that it ever looked dirty to her.

That painting Noah had fallen in love with was still on the toolbox where he’d left it. Flaw and all. Her little secret. But she’d shared it with him. Her secret spot too. Easy to share secrets with someone who will be over twenty-five hundred miles away in a few days. Someone she’d never see again.

Why do things have to be so complicated?

She studied the painting. It had been done a long time ago. Another lifetime. Like someone else’s lifetime ago.

Get a move on, girl.

Carla had taken all of the bridal party dresses over to the church, so all Megan had to take was her makeup and shoes. An easy morning with the girls, playing dress up and supporting Angie on her big day.

What kind of maid of honor am I, having doubts about the car now?
She felt selfish and silly.

She straightened and marched over to the driver’s side of the car and picked up her tote bag. She shifted it up on her shoulder and then wrapped her fingers around the door handle. Just standing there. The thrum of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She’d never opened this door before. Not even when they’d delivered the car.

Tears filled her eyes.

She looked toward the ceiling. Wishing Dad was there or would somehow give her a comforting sign. She’d only ever sat in the passenger’s seat. She’d liked it that way. She’d never even asked to drive it—perfectly happy with him being at the wheel.

She could picture Dad sitting there with his arm out the window, smiling in her direction. Them laughing. The wind pushing against her hand as she chased the air with her open palm.

Pulling the door handle with one quick thrust, she opened the door and tossed her handbag into the passenger’s seat. She closed her eyes, dropped behind the steering wheel, and let out a breath.

“It’s fine. I can do this.” Maybe saying it aloud would make it so.

Every yesterday in this car had been a special one.

Stretching her legs out, her feet didn’t reach the pedals. Her heart hiccuped at the thought of moving it from where her dad had set it. One more thing to leave behind.

Jackson had offered to pick it up, but she’d insisted on doing it herself. She regretted that now. If she’d let Jackson pick up the car, he could have left the seat right where it was. He and Daddy were about the same height.

She grappled around under the seat for a lever or a button. She wasn’t even sure how to move it.

The steering wheel felt wide and skinny compared to her little car.

“I miss you, Daddy. Why is it so hard to let go of yesterdays?”

“Maybe because they were that special.”

She spun around, sucking a breath so quickly that she choked. The unexpected answer scared the bejesus out of her. She placed her hand against her chest. “Noah? What are you doing here?”

He stood next to the car. His hands on his knees, peering in from the blind spot just over her left shoulder.

His brown eyes locked with her own. “Maybe we don’t have to forget yesterdays, just be able to live with them. I know it sounds simple, but damn it’s taken me a long time to figure it out. I’m kind of hoping you’re coming to the same realization.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered, turning away from him. “How’d you get in?”

“Door was open. We don’t have to be over at the church until later. I was jogging.”

She glanced back again. “Yeah, I see now; you
are
a sweaty mess. It’s a good morning for a jog. Why are you here?”

“Thought I’d stop by. I knocked on the front door. You didn’t answer, but as I was leaving I noticed the garage-bay door open. You okay?”

“You been standing there long?”

“A little while,” he admitted.

Then he knew she wasn’t okay.

“Hey, tomorrow will be better. Every day will be a little better.”

“That’s just it, Noah. I don’t want to leave my yesterdays behind.”
Maybe some of them, but not these. Not the ones with Daddy.

“You can’t enjoy what’s ahead of you if you’re focused on what’s in your rearview mirror.”

What? Was he some kind of philosopher all of a sudden? This wasn’t helpful right now. Don’t cry. Do not cry in front of him.
She resisted the urge to dab the dampness from under her eyes, tilting her head down, hoping to hide any tears that resisted her constraint.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“
Contemplating.
”

“Contemplating what?”

“Why I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, and can’t bring myself to turn the key in the ignition.”

Noah pulled the door open and crouched down next to the driver’s-side door.

“I’ve never driven it before. Daddy was always the one in this seat.”

“You know how to drive a car. I’ve seen you.”

“This is different.”

“It’s your car now. He wouldn’t have left it to you had he not trusted you with it. That I know for a fact.”

“I know.” She barely heard the words they’d come out so quietly.

He tapped his hand along the window track, then loosened her hand from the death grip she had on the steering wheel. “What can I do to help you, Megan?”

She looked into his eyes as he squatted there beside the car. She felt at ease in his presence. She barely knew him. But just like the other day, she felt at ease when she’d shown him her paintings—the little peek into her past, and her secret rooftop escape.

“Get in and drive.”

Did she say what I think she just said?
“Drive?”

“
Yes.
” She let out a breath. “Drive. I need to take the car to the church. I can’t reach the pedals. I can’t do this. Just drive. Okay?”

“Here, I can help you adjust the seat.” He reached in to help her.

She slapped at his hand. “No. It’s right where Daddy left it last.”

He froze, raising his hands like a criminal under arrest. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to move the seat. I know it sounds dumb. You’re the right height. Humor me. Okay?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

She scooted over to the passenger seat. Nothing ladylike about the way she was crabbing over across to the other side; in fact, it was a bit comical. Good thing she wasn’t in her bridesmaid dress.

He slid into the driver’s seat. The smell of her perfume and shampoo lingered, teasing his senses.

This car. This girl. Almost too much.

He turned and smiled at her. She looked like a teenager sitting there. Young, vulnerable, even though he knew better. “Tell me about the last time you were in this car.”

“I always rode shotgun. This is my spot.” She patted the leather seat. “Daddy drove. Top down. No matter what the weather, hot or cold.”

“Your hair blowing in the wind?” He could picture her soft beach waves blowing carefree in the breeze, whipping and lifting. It made him want to run his fingers through her hair. He resisted though, grasping his hand against his own forearm instead.

“No.” She leaned over and dropped the glove compartment open. A cute laugh escaped her. “It’s still here.” She reached in and pulled out a hot-pink bandana. “I always tie my hair up in this.”

She stared at the rolled fabric, stroking it softly with her fingers. A sweet smile played on her lips.

“Do it,” he said.

“What?”

“Let me see.” He looked into her eyes. “Your hair pulled up.”

She lifted the bandana and spun it behind her neck, pulling the waves of her brown hair into a cute pinup girl look.

“Beautiful.” More beautiful than he could’ve imagined. It sure wasn’t hard to spend time with this girl.

A tinge of pink chased from her cheeks to her chest. She pulled her feet up into the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. The behemoth of a car was wider than she was tall.

“You look tiny in this car,” he remarked.

“I know,” she laughed. “It’s huge, but I have enough memories related to this car to fill the entire front and back seat.”

“That’s a lot of good memories. You ready?”

She lifted her shoulders.

“Want to put the top down?”

“Do you know how?”

“Do I know how? Girl, you are talking to the expert on this year and model.” He reached up and pulled straight down on the two latches at the windshield header.

Megan looked impressed.

He pushed the top by hand to free it, then reached below the dash and flipped a switch, holding it until the motorized top had lowered into the well. With all the grace of a ballerina, the top hid itself completely.

Megan’s pout had turned into a smile. “Pretty uptown for an old car.”

He started the car. Its throaty rumble sounded as healthy as any he’d ever heard. Megan’s dad had shown this ride real love. He hadn’t neglected her. He opened the door.