Downpour: Chapter 12

The ramp leading up to my parents’ porch rattled as I pushed myself up to the door. I could smell the pot roast from the door, and my stomach rumbled.

“Whatever that is, I want your mom to teach me how to make it,” Brooke whispered.

I wasn’t going to argue with that. Even though I was starving, my appetite vanished as soon as we got to the door.

“You okay?” Brooke said quietly.

I sighed and stared at the door. “I haven’t been at a family dinner since before the accident.”

“Not even when you were recovering?”

I shook my head. “I’d stay in my room. I couldn’t use my hands. Someone always had to help me eat. And I…” Bile bubbled up my throat. “I hated it.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Brooke squeezed my hand. “We can always turn around.”

The fact that she offered to leave and meant it was everything to me.

“Nah. Letting you have my mom’s pot roast is the least I can do for you.”

Brooke laughed and opened the door.

The flurry of conversation inside died at the creak of the hinges.

Cassandra’s jaw dropped, along with her fork. “Oh my god. Pollyanna got him to leave the house.”

I flipped her the bird.

Brooke giggled.

My nieces were seated by Cassandra. I could feel their eyes on me as I wheeled inside.

God, they looked so grown. Bree was fifteen. She’d be driving soon. I remembered holding her when she was just a baby. Entertaining her as a toddler when Christian was dealing with funeral arrangements for his first wife.

Gracie was a fucking teenager now. Thirteen. Twelve years ago, she would fall asleep on my chest. For a while, I was the only one she would stop crying for.

I had watched them grow up like they were mine. I used to be Superman to them. Invincible. They used to look at me like I hung the moon.

Those two used to be my world.

My mom jumped up from the table, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve. “Come in. Come in. I’ve got places already set for you both. You’re over by Nate, Becks, and Charlie.”

Charlotte, or Charlie as everyone called her, looked absolutely giddy at the prospect of new people to give her attention. My newest niece’s high chair was pulled up to the table, and she seemed to be having a gourmet dinner of Cheerios after an attempt at pot roast went awry.

I kept my head down as we went to the other side of the long farmhouse table. Nate pulled my chair out of the way and made space for me to park my wheelchair at the table. Brooke took a seat beside Becks and immediately started talking.

Becks was a journalist. If there was anyone who could keep up with Brooke’s chatter, it was her.

Mom brought over two plates piled high with pot roast, potatoes, and carrots, and set them in front of Brooke and me.

“Thank you, Mrs. Griffith,” Brooke said with the prettiest smile I’d ever seen.

Mom beamed. “Oh honey, just call me Claire or Momma Griffith.”

Brooke’s smile widened. “Momma it is.”

Cassandra gagged. “Oh god. She’s one of those.”

Christian elbowed her, and my nieces laughed, but I kept my head down.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Conversation around the table died when I reached for the fork.

I hated people watching me. It was like waiting for rain. The downpour would let loose sooner or later. Whatever was anticipated was always a disappointment.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. But unlike getting on the back of a bull in a packed arena, I couldn’t block it out.

I heard the little gasp from my mom when I touched the smooth silver fork. I heard Christian stroke his beard. I heard Gracie and Bree whispering to each other, and Cassandra scolding them. I could hear CJ picking at the label on his beer.

It made my skin crawl. My neck tensed. I wanted to get out of there.

Then I felt her.

Brooke squeezed my left hand under the table. Her slender fingers were so soft as they wrapped around mine. She picked up her fork and speared a carrot but never looked at me. “This smells so good. Thanks for saving us some.”

I chanced a look at my mom. She was crying. Just great.

Mom dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “I always set a place for all my kids and make enough just in case. That includes you for as long as you’re with us.”

Behind the privacy of the tablecloth, Brooke’s fingers slipped between mine. “The ranch is so cool. I love seeing all the animals. Mickey’s the sweetest. Why does he have pool noodles on his horns? Do all the cows wear them?”

Christian chuckled, and the feeling of everyone’s attention being on me shifted to Brooke.

I ate quietly while Christian and Gracie told the story of how Mickey became her accidental pet. Gracie told her how Mickey would always escape the herd and wander up to someone’s porch. Brooke’s responding laugh sounded like wind chimes dancing in the breeze as a storm passed.

Her thumb stroking across the top of mine was the break in the clouds. It was the promise of sunshine on the other side.

So I kept my head down and finished my plate. But Brooke never let go.

Mom set a pecan pie on the table and started slicing it up. Bree and Gracie joined in to distribute the plates around the long table.

“Hi, Brooke!” Gracie chirped as she set a piece in front of her.

“Hey, Gracie,” Brooke said, copying her tone.

Bree put a piece of pie in front of me but kept her eyes down and didn’t say a word.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. The fork slipped out of my fingers when I stabbed the pie.

“Bree, I love your hair,” Brooke said as she took a bite.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Bree smiled softly. “Thanks. Cassandra did it.”

“Well, you look amazing.”

Why was the fork so goddamn flat? Why wouldn’t my fingers just fucking work? I felt Christian staring at me as I struggled to pick up the fork.

“I’m full,” I said, giving up. “Thanks, momma.”

Brooke set her fork down. “Do you think I could take mine to-go? The pot roast was so good, and I don’t want to waste the pie on a full stomach.”

Momma smiled. “Of course. Let me get some plastic wrap, and I’ll send two pieces with you.”

From across the table, CJ tipped his chin at Brooke. She smiled.

I didn’t like that. Didn’t like it one bit.

“Here you go,” Mom said, giving Brooke two slices of pie wrapped up on a plate. Everyone began to clear the table, except for Cassandra, who made a beeline for me.

“We need to talk.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “About what? Why does Bree look like she hates me?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t hate you, jackass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly,” Cassandra hissed. “So if I’m the one calling you a jackass, that should be a fucking wakeup call. Bree is upset. She’s hurt. You were her favorite person, and then you blocked her out for a year and a half.”

“I almost died.”

“Almost,” Cassandra hissed. “And if you keep acting like a jackass to those two girls who still think you’re the guy they tell me stories about, I will finish what the bull started.”

Brooke watched Cassandra storm off. “I think I’m in love with her.”

Cassandra was the only one I currently tolerated, and she was skating on thin ice.

“You ready to call it a night, or do you want to hang out a little bit?” Brooke asked.

I took it back.

Cassandra was the only one I feared, though I would never admit it to her.

Brooke was the only one I currently tolerated.

“I’m ready to go.”

She nodded. “Do you want me here, or do you want me to go start the truck?”

I didn’t want her more than a foot away from me. Actually, I wanted her hand in mine again. But I needed a minute with my mom. “Give me a sec, and I’ll be out.”

Brooke grabbed the leftovers, said her goodbyes, gave hugs to everyone, and headed out. I waited until the front door closed before carefully navigating the dining room and finding my mom.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said as I stopped in front of the sink where she was drying the plates.

Her smile was weathered and worn. “You know me. I always have a place for you.” She tipped her head toward the door. “And one for that sweet girl too. She was a lucky find, wasn’t she?”

“Lightning in a bottle,” I said under my breath.

Mom chuckled. “That’s the truth.”

I waited a moment, not saying anything at all as she drained the sink. “I should head back. I’m pretty tired.”

“I’m cooking again on Saturday if you want some. It won’t be anything fancy. We might do burgers. I’ll be keeping all the grandbabies so Nate, Christian, and their ladies can go have a date night. You and Brooke should come. There’s food, so you know CJ will be here.”

“Brooke will go home on the weekends.”

Her smile was sad. “You should still come if you want. Or we can come to you.”

“I’ll think about it.” But she knew that was a ‘no.’

Before I could turn my wheelchair, she laid a hand on my shoulder. “The rain will stop, you know.”

I glanced out the window. “It’s not raining.”

“I don’t mean outside, sweetheart.” She leaned down and dropped a kiss on my head, just like she used to when I was a boy. “If the clouds don’t part where you are, keep going until you find your sunshine.”

I slipped outside while everyone was distracted by Becks and Nate’s little one. Brooke was waiting by the truck. While I pulled myself up into the cab, she put my wheelchair into the bed. We made the drive back to the house in silence. I was tired, but not ready for sleep.

“Just give me a sec. I want to change my clothes. I think I still smell like horses and smoke,” Brooke said, disappearing into her room and closing the door.

When she returned, she was wearing a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top that exposed her entire back, along with most of her ribs and waist. She grabbed the slices of pilfered pie and two forks from the utensil drawer.

“The deck or the couch?” Brooke asked.

We settled on the deck, each with our own slice of pie. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees as the crickets and frogs sang a quiet tune.

I took my time with my fork, not feeling as much pressure now that there weren’t a dozen eyes watching.

Brooke devoured her pie in two bites.

I paused and observed as she wiped the crumbs off her lap. “You weren’t full, were you?”

A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “I’ll never tell.”