After closing the window, I started pulling the clothes off their hangers. Lovingly, I folded them and placed them in boxes. I didn’t blame the clothes for what happened to me. I didn’t regret wearing them all through high school. I didn’t regret that they’d helped shape me into a girl who had done some things she wasn’t proud of in order to secure the affection of boys I now knew hadn’t been worth the effort. It was only through embracing the girl I had been that I could be secure in the woman I had become.
My only regret was that I let the assault steal my joy in wearing clothes that used to make me so happy. I allowed those men to take a part of my mother from me.
It was getting late, but I kept at the task until the last of my mother’s outfits had been packed away. I knelt with a Sharpie in hand to label the boxes but couldn’t decide what to write. Donate? Storage? My address in Philly?
I capped the marker and got ready for bed. I would figure it out later.
* * * *
Did Mandy like donuts? Cole hoped so, since he was carrying a dozen up to her door to go with the coffee he hoped she made. He lifted his hand to knock on the storm door, but Mandy beat him to the punch. She opened the trailer door and bounded across the porch to unlock the storm door and let him in. She had a radiant smile on her face that shined a light into his heart.
Damn, but he had feelings for her. It was all kinds of wrong, but that didn’t make it untrue. He wanted his dead buddy’s daughter. He’d wanted her for years. He would probably always want her. Which sucked big time, because he couldn’t have her.
Not only was he too old for her, but she was going through a difficult time. She didn’t need some idiot drooling over her when her father wasn’t even in the ground yet.
He could be her friend, though. Considering she was stuck in a town she’d left in a hurry and hadn’t been back to since, she was probably dealing with more than just Gripper’s death. She could probably use a friend.
Being friends with her meant he couldn’t drag her into his arms and bury his nose in her hair and inhale that warm, vanilla scent wafting off her, no matter how badly he wanted to. “Morning,” he greeted.
She held the door so he could slide past her. She made an adorable show of inhaling over the box of donuts. “Thank God you brought breakfast. All I have is cereal and frozen omelets.”
“I aim to please,” he said as he strolled into the living room. Gripper’s shop had been an immaculate tribute to his passion for fixing guns. His house had been a pigsty. It was still cluttered, but much improved since yesterday. Mandy had done some cleaning.
He nodded at the eating nook. Who knew the thing had a faux-wood-grain finish? He’d never actually seen the surface before. “Looks good in here,” he said while Mandy poured him some coffee. She’d cleared the space so a person could actually use it for its intended purpose. She also had some brochures from the funeral home laid out, ready for them to look at together.
It gave him a thrill to know she’d prepared for his arrival, though he didn’t kid himself it meant anything other than she was ready to plan her father’s funeral.
“Thanks,” she said, setting a mug on the eating nook. She put down some paper plates and napkins and helped herself to a donut. “So, what did you do yesterday? Were you off duty?”
“Yeah,” he said, settling into a chair with a patterned cushion that harkened back to the autumn-toned seventies. He sipped the coffee. Heaven. Just as good as it had been yesterday. He had a sinking suspicion it wasn’t because of the beans or the run-of-the-mill coffee maker on Gripper’s counter, but because of the hands that had made and served it. Who would have ever thought something as simple as a cup of coffee could weaken his resolve?
Friends, dammit.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t go back until Monday. Get a long weekend every
My only regret was that I let the assault steal my joy in wearing clothes that used to make me so happy. I allowed those men to take a part of my mother from me.
It was getting late, but I kept at the task until the last of my mother’s outfits had been packed away. I knelt with a Sharpie in hand to label the boxes but couldn’t decide what to write. Donate? Storage? My address in Philly?
I capped the marker and got ready for bed. I would figure it out later.
* * * *
Did Mandy like donuts? Cole hoped so, since he was carrying a dozen up to her door to go with the coffee he hoped she made. He lifted his hand to knock on the storm door, but Mandy beat him to the punch. She opened the trailer door and bounded across the porch to unlock the storm door and let him in. She had a radiant smile on her face that shined a light into his heart.
Damn, but he had feelings for her. It was all kinds of wrong, but that didn’t make it untrue. He wanted his dead buddy’s daughter. He’d wanted her for years. He would probably always want her. Which sucked big time, because he couldn’t have her.
Not only was he too old for her, but she was going through a difficult time. She didn’t need some idiot drooling over her when her father wasn’t even in the ground yet.
He could be her friend, though. Considering she was stuck in a town she’d left in a hurry and hadn’t been back to since, she was probably dealing with more than just Gripper’s death. She could probably use a friend.
Being friends with her meant he couldn’t drag her into his arms and bury his nose in her hair and inhale that warm, vanilla scent wafting off her, no matter how badly he wanted to. “Morning,” he greeted.
She held the door so he could slide past her. She made an adorable show of inhaling over the box of donuts. “Thank God you brought breakfast. All I have is cereal and frozen omelets.”
“I aim to please,” he said as he strolled into the living room. Gripper’s shop had been an immaculate tribute to his passion for fixing guns. His house had been a pigsty. It was still cluttered, but much improved since yesterday. Mandy had done some cleaning.
He nodded at the eating nook. Who knew the thing had a faux-wood-grain finish? He’d never actually seen the surface before. “Looks good in here,” he said while Mandy poured him some coffee. She’d cleared the space so a person could actually use it for its intended purpose. She also had some brochures from the funeral home laid out, ready for them to look at together.
It gave him a thrill to know she’d prepared for his arrival, though he didn’t kid himself it meant anything other than she was ready to plan her father’s funeral.
“Thanks,” she said, setting a mug on the eating nook. She put down some paper plates and napkins and helped herself to a donut. “So, what did you do yesterday? Were you off duty?”
“Yeah,” he said, settling into a chair with a patterned cushion that harkened back to the autumn-toned seventies. He sipped the coffee. Heaven. Just as good as it had been yesterday. He had a sinking suspicion it wasn’t because of the beans or the run-of-the-mill coffee maker on Gripper’s counter, but because of the hands that had made and served it. Who would have ever thought something as simple as a cup of coffee could weaken his resolve?
Friends, dammit.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t go back until Monday. Get a long weekend every
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