HAPPY NEW YEAR! WELCOME TO THE FIRST UPDATE OF 2019. THE FIRST OF, HOPEFULLY, MANY MORE TO COME. :)
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"I don't mind waiting if you need some time to love again. I don't want nothing. Just a letter, something for the pain. I don't mind mischief. We're just dancing in the dark again...We'll never grow old when I'm with you"
~ I Don't Mind (Icarus Falls)
OLIVIA
"Olivia?" A deep voice called, reaching far into my sleep and dragging me awake. "You should wake up."
I grudgingly opened my eyes to catch Hunter standing in the doorway smiling down at me. "It's still dark outside. Why are you up?"
His grin grew. "I'm always up at this time. I just came from a run."
My eyes would've widened if I was awake enough. "Okay, so you are crazy. Why am I awake then?"
"You're coming to help me work, remember?"
"Oh, yeah," I mumbled, sinking deeper under the warmth of the covers. "Can I take a shower first?"
"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be in the kitchen," he said. He gave me one last lingering look before turning to walk out and closing the door behind him.
I watched the place where he'd stood for a solid minute, trying to get a grasp on the whirlwind that had suddenly become my life.
Then I got up and took a shower, all the while trying not to be a creep and snoop around the place for anything that would reveal something personal about Hunter. In the end, I couldn't find anything and so I decided to let it go for now and got out of the shower. I wrapped the towel around my body and walked out into the bedroom, suddenly realizing that I'd forgotten to ask Hunter to throw my wet clothes in the washer. I was about to put the shirt he'd given me back on when my eyes caught my own clothes neatly folded and stacked on the end of the bed.
My heart thumped in my chest at his thoughtfulness. I didn't even have to ask.
Before I could look too much into something that was probably a nothing-burger, I quickly put my clothes on and folded the shirt he'd given me.
I made the bed and tidied up as much as I could. I took one last look around the room and made my way down the hall and down the stairs.
Immediately, I was hit with the strong scent of coffee. My feet quickened at the smell. I froze near the entrance of the kitchen when I caught a clear view of Hunter.
My breaths abandoned me, my lungs suddenly having a hard time pulling in air. If it wasn't for the scene before me, I would've thought I was having a heart attack by the way my body was panicking.
He was plating eggs on two different plates. He took a sip of coffee before turning to place the plates on the island. That was when he caught my wandering eyes.
He watched me watch him for a moment before his lips stretched into a handsome smile. "Hey."
I couldn't stop the grin that took over my practiced stoic expression. "Hey."
"I made some eggs and k cups are in the drawer below the Keurig if you'd like something hot. Cream, water and orange juice are in the fridge. Sugar's right next to the Keurig," he said, coming around to take a seat at the island. "I hope you like scrambled eggs."
I went over to the Keurig and started rummaging through the drawer for a dark roast. "What if I was allergic to eggs?" I retorted, turning to look at him after preparing the Keurig and turning it on.
He took a bite of his eggs. "Well, are you?"
My shoulders fell. "No."
"Good," he said, "and before you ask, no, I didn't poison anything."
I feigned a look of shock as I took the cup of coffee and walked to take the seat next to him. "I would never suspect such a thing."
Then I took my fork and offered him a bite of my eggs. He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "What are you doing?"
"You said don't trust strangers," I shrugged innocently, "so take the bite. You're my taster."
"You do realize you are not a queen, right?"
"Who said only queens deserve protection from potential enemies?"
A low laugh escaped him and my heart did odd things at the sound. He took the bite and then said, "that good enough for you?"
I placed the fork on the plate and stood to prepare my coffee. "Some poisons take a few minutes to take effect. I think I'll wait."
He let out a louder laugh this time and I couldn't help but smile. I poured cream into my cup and added sugar. Turning to face him, I hid my smile and said, "Hmm, you're still alive."
He nodded, amused. "What a surprise."
I took my place next to him again and took a bite. "These are actually really good."
"I know."
I stilled. "You're not gonna say thank you? That was a solid compliment."
"You complimented a man," he said, "isn't that against your life philosophy?"
When I kept staring at him in shock, he spoke again. "Besides, you didn't thank me for making breakfast either."
"I thought we called a truce," I said, my voice so low I shocked even myself.
He gave me a tight smile. "We did. Last night."
"I didn't know truces had an expiration date."
"Well, now you know."
His phone beeped at that and he picked it up to look at the notification. I stared at his side profile for a moment. His words cut deep, even if he wasn't trying. Why I wasn't running away confused me. This man was everything I disagreed with. He made me question myself. He planted seeds of doubt in my head about what I thought and believed in. I didn't like it one bit. So why was I still here, waiting for more? I was better than this. My beliefs and life philosophy as he liked to call it were solid, the few things in my life besides myself I was confident about.
"Thank you," I said moments later, with a much louder and clearer voice. "I really mean it. No one's ever made me breakfast before, besides my mom anyway."
He turned away from his phone, which he was typing away very seriously on. He looked like he wanted to ask a question but thought better of it. "It's no problem. You're a guest in my home."
I gave him a small smile and turned to take a sip of my coffee when he abruptly said, "is that how you like your coffee?"
I turned to catch his playful eyes. "What are you trying to say?"
He muffled a laugh. "It looks like your about drink coffee flavored milk."
I gasped. "I'll have you know the way I prepare my coffee is really good."
"I doubt it."
"Then, try it."
He blinked. "What?"
I pushed the cup toward him. "Try it."
He gave in a few quiet seconds later and took a sip. His face immediately turned sour. "That really is coffee flavored milk. And it's way too sweet. How can you drink that?"
I couldn't help but laugh at how he was reacting. "Why are you being so overdramatic? It can't be that bad."
He looked baffled at my words. "You made me drink overly sweetened coffee flavored milk."
A loud giggle escaped me. "Can you stop saying coffee flavored milk? It's insulting."
He took a large sip from his own cup of coffee. "Good. That is disgusting."
"And what about how you prepare your coffee?"
He gestured his cup towards me. "It's just black with a teaspoon of sugar. Wanna try?"
I nodded. "Sure. It's only fair after you passed on such a rude judgment on my coffee."
He grinned as he handed me the cup. He watched me take a sip before saying, "well?"
I sighed in defeat. "It's not that bad."
"Yeah, you can actually taste the coffee," he jeered playfully, "would you imagine that?"
I pushed his shoulder. "Stop being so rude."
***
About half an hour later, I stood in Hunter's garage, completely aghast and admiring his work.
"These are gorgeous," I mumbled mindlessly.
He walked closer, looking at the intricate detail I was blown away by. "Thank you."
I caressed the edges of the coffee table. "I can't believe you made this."
When I raised my head to look at him, I caught the gleaming grin he wore. "What can I say, I have a beautiful talent."
I knew he was joking, but I still said, "That you do," so seriously, I even shocked myself.
He raised his eyebrow, but quickly recovered, walking over to the other side of the garage. "You're gonna help me sand this. Think you can do that?"
I nodded without thought. "Yeah, but why do you sand it?"
He smiled at the curiousity that flowed through my voice. "It creates a smooth surface for staining. If you stain before sanding, any blemishes and uneven surfaces will be much more visible and it's not ideal."
I wanted to ask more questions, to know more about sanding wood and staining it. Why? I honestly don't know. It's freaking wood but for some reason, I was as intrigued as I am about Game of Thrones. It baffled me beyond reason.
Nonetheless, I took the sand paper he offered me and started sanding the wood like he'd said. "Am I doing it right?"
"Yeah," he replied and walked over to bring out his tools over to his work table.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna start a sketch on the other rocking chair that's supposed go with the one your sanding," he said, taking a seat with a pencil in his hand.
"Can't you use the same sketch since they're a pair?"
He shook his head, not looking up from his paper. "No. It's for a couple and they wanted similar chairs but not replicas for their front porch. Sorta like a his and hers chair."
I snorted.
That made him look up. "Something funny?"
"I mean yeah. His and hers chairs? What happens if they get divorced? Or if he leaves?"
He raised his head more, his eye contact strengthening. "If you go through relationships and love always thinking what if they leave or what if we end, you're not in the right state of mind to be in a relationship."
I stopped sanding for a moment. "So you recommend naivety?"
"No. I recommend faith, strength and hope. You should fight for a relationship, even if it looks like you won't make it. A war isn't over just because a battle was lost. You keep on fighting for each other until you no longer can. You don't think about what if we break up, because what if you communicated right? What if you were honest with each other? What if you survived the troubles and landed on your feet together? Isn't that so much better?"
His voice was so smooth. He delivered his words so beautifully that it was clear he believed in them.
I didn't know what to say back to him.
He must've thought I didn't believe him when I remained quiet because he said, "look at that man across the street gardening."
I followed the direction of his nod out of the garage. My eyes landed on a man who looked to be in his mid-fifties. "Who is he?"
"He takes care of my neighbor's garden."
"You know your neighbor's gardener?"
"That's Doug. This is his third job." I turned to catch his eyes and for some reason, he looked sad as he glanced at the man who was on his knees to take out some of the dead flowers. "He also works for me."
My eyes swiftly glanced over his front yard. "You don't have a garden," I mumbled.
A soft yet misplaced chuckle left him. "He works in my shop."
I turned to him. "Your shop?"
"A carpentry shop, I guess you can call it," he nodded, "got a few chains here and in other states."
I forced myself to continue sanding. "What's it called?"
"Richard's Bea," he said with a smile that was too beautiful. It was so genuine like he was thinking of a distant memory. A happy one.
"Why that name?"
A guarding wall rose around him at my question, his eyes suddenly closing off. For a long moment, he looked like he was contemplating whether or not to be honest with me. Then he started speaking, the walls around him crumbling as fast as they'd appeared. "It's my parents' names. My dad started this shop when he was around my age. He met my mom shortly after and she is the apple of his eye. And in her eyes, he hung the moon and the sun. Every time the shop almost went out of business or things got rocky, he stayed strong because of her. And she kept her faith in him, in their relationship, because his love for her never wavered," he sucked in a sharp breath before continuing. "Anyways, my dad brought me into the business when he wanted to open more stores. And I came up with the name when I took over a year later and we opened up two more shops."
By the time he finished, I was trying to blink away my tears. "That's beautiful. Are they still together?"
His smile widened at that. "Yeah. They live a few hours away from here."
"Do you visit them often?"
"Yeah, either I go at least once a week or they'll drive down here on their own will. And then my mom will see this garage and start cleaning until it's spotless," he shrugged, letting out a small laugh. "It's better for all of us if I just make the time and go see them."
I looked around the garage. "It is pretty messy in here."
"Looks who's being judgy," he said, watching me with amusement as I sanded the bottom of the chair.
"You got what you wished for, Mr. Grow-some-thick-skin."
His smile sweetened. "I'm glad."
The way he was looking at me made my heart do weird things and I had no idea how to respond so I looked out to see Doug was still there. "So why does Doug have three jobs? The economy's doing great."
He sighed. "He's the sole provider for his family. He has his wife and four kids. His wife had a heart problem last year and things were really rough for them, especially financially. He got a second and then a third job, with me, to help pay the medical bills. He's still at all three jobs, working hard to make sure his wife doesn't have to lift a finger if she doesn't want to so that she doesn't have to worry. He works hard to give her everything she wants. Their kids are all out on their own in college so his focus is really on his wife."
I felt gutted listening to him. "He stayed?"
"Yeah, Olivia. He stayed."
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