Say I'm Yours Page 8

“Good.” She sighs.

I start making a plan of the fastest way to get what I need and get home within fifteen minutes as my mother prattles on about Mrs. Kannan cheating during their last game of cards. I don’t know why Mama’s surprised by this, she does it every week. “And then, she had the nerve to tell me that I cheated at Bingo. How do you even claim such blasphemy?”

“I don’t know, Ma.” I try to move away to get what I came for, but she doesn’t let up.

“You know, I have half a mind to go over there and demand she gives us our money back.” She nods once in agreement with herself. “And after that, I’ll let Vivienne know that her singin’ needs to be louder when we’re rehearsing. The Lord can’t understand her mumblin’.”

Oh, yeah, that’ll work out great.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Y’all have been friends a long time, but tellin’ Mrs. Townsend her singin’ isn’t good enough for the Lord isn’t going to go over well. Now, what really has you upset?”

My mother loves those women more than she loves my father or me. There’s no way she’s going in there with guns blazing over a few bucks. Mrs. Kannan cheats, Mrs. Hennington bakes, Mrs. Townsend runs the music, and Mama is the trip planner. All of them have their place and each is very passionate about what they do.

She sits back in her chair and huffs.

“Mama?” I push her.

“Your father has lost his damn mind!” She stands and throws her hands in the air. “I’ve had it with that man. If I didn’t think he’d starve to death, I would’ve thrown his sorry behind out of my house a long time ago.” Daddy is always on her list, but he must’ve really upset her this time. “He told me that if I wanted to lose weight, I should stop eatin’ pie. Can you believe that? Maybe he’d look like he did when I married him if he stopped eatin’ everything in my house.”

Maybe my father has become suicidal, because no man should ever say something like that. Especially, when my father could be Santa’s less gray haired brother. His belly is filled with more jelly than a donut.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.”

“Always takin’ his side.” Her eyes narrow on me. “By the way, what is this I hear about you and Cooper? There’s a rumor goin’ around that you’re going out with him soon?”

That’s my cue to get the hell out of here. “Emily should be at the house in a few. I need to get back, we’ll talk more later.”

“Avoidin’ it now doesn’t mean it won’t come up later!” she yells as I move to the back of the store.

“Okay,” I reply and get to work putting different things in my basket. I need to be out of here in two minutes if I want a chance of not having to talk about this.

Chips.

Cookies.

Beef Jerky.

M&M’s.

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

A jar of Nutella.

I know I’m missing a lot more. I plan for her to have to roll me to bed. I have a lot of feelings that need to be eaten, but when I reach the spot where my go-to snack is usually stocked, I find bags of dried fruit. Grimacing as I put the offensively healthy food back on the shelf, I turn and yell over my shoulder. “Ma! Where are the—”

“You lookin’ for these?” A deep voice vibrates from behind me as my favorite candy appears before my eyes.

The hair on the back of my neck raises and my pulse quickens. I haven’t seen him in weeks. I’ve done well at avoiding him, and four words was all it took for my body to respond.

“Thanks.” I take the bag of black licorice from him, keeping my back turned. “I couldn’t find them.”

“Emily’s in town, I saw her car and figured what you might be up to,” he explains.

“Yeah?” I don’t want to look at him. I don’t need to because I see him perfectly in my head. My unwillingness to face Trent doesn’t stop him from moving closer to me, and I know that if I lean back a little . . . just a smidge, I would feel all of him. But we’re done, and that would be irresponsible. My hand clutches the wooden shelf in front of me, and I tighten my grip. I need to hold on to something that isn’t Trent.

“I know you can’t be without your licorice.” His lips graze my ear when he speaks, and my grip tightens.

“I’m surprised you remember.”

Trent laughs and the sound travels through me. “I know everything about you, sweetheart.”

My eyes close and I force my knees not to give out. I’ve missed him. I hate that I’ve missed him.

He makes me weak.

He makes me stupid.

He makes me love him.

I turn slowly to see Trent looking at me with an unreadable expression. “You know my favorite candy; I’m not sure that counts as everything.”

Trent’s hand rises as he pushes the hair off my forehead before moving to cup my cheek. “I know much more than that, Gracie.”

“Like what?” Part of me wants to challenge him because he doesn’t know me. Or if he does, he doesn’t care about me.

“I know that you love me.”

“Wrong. Try again.”

He gives me that crooked grin I love so much. It’s a little cocky and a lot of sexy. It makes me do dumb things like think about his lips on mine, which would be really bad.

“I know that you hate the word marshmallow,” Trent says, making me shudder. I really hate that word. “I know that you do that each time someone says it. I know you talk in your sleep, you hate spiders, and you write in your journal but pretend you don’t. I know you claim you didn’t keep your Miss Bedford County tiara and yet it’s on the top shelf of your closet. I know that you wear it when you feel like you’ve eaten too much food, but I don’t know why. One day you’ll tell me, though.”

Asshole .

“I know that when you’re tired or feel like punching me in the face you bite your lip.” His thumb pulls on my bottom lip. “I know when you’re nervous, you do this.” He brings my hand between us. “You dig your thumb nail into your palm.”

I tear my hand away and try not to let his touch affect me. My skin burns where we had contact, and I crave more. “You forgot the part about where I want to be someone’s world.”

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