A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,28
bought breakfast, too. You’re making me look bad. Next time, it’s on me—no arguments.”
They turned around to find a place to sit in the small, overcrowded seating area.
“It’s loud and bright in here. Want to go outside?” Cale suggested.
In reply, Rachel headed for the door. Once they were outside, the noise level diminished several decibels, and she breathed out. The three outdoor tables were occupied, so Cale nodded toward the beach, which was about twenty feet away. “Can you stand the chaos of the waves on the beach for a few minutes?” he joked.
“The ice cream will soothe my nerves, or at least occupy my attention.”
They walked down the half flight of stairs to the sand and headed north, parallel to the waterline. When they reached the concrete seawall that protected one of the older motel properties, Cale gestured to it. “It’s quieter here and there’s a wall to lean against. That okay?”
“Perfect.”
Rachel slid her back down the rough wall and sat on the cool, dry sand. Cale sat next to her, maybe an inch away, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. The sensation, combined with his faint, masculine scent, was responsible for the goose bumps up her arms and left her with a slightly heady feeling.
“Thanks for meeting me tonight,” Rachel said between licks of marshmallow. “I needed to get out of the house like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Issues with your mom?”
“Not really. She was heading to bed.” She debated mentioning the whole bedroom issue and decided if anyone would understand, Cale would. “When I woke up this evening, I discovered my well-meaning mother has decided to open the door.” She emphasized the last two words to convey their significance.
“Which door?” Cale asked, crunching his first bite of cone already.
“The door to our bedroom. Mine and Noelle’s.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding registering in his tone. “It was closed this morning when I was there, right?”
“It’s been closed since I’ve been home. Since...probably since the night Noelle died.” Her throat threatened to close up as the memories of that night tried to force their way in. When she could breathe, she added, “That probably sounds twisted, I guess.”
Cale chuckled quietly. “Not so much. I get it.”
“I’d hoped my mom would have gone through everything long ago, before I moved back home. I couldn’t believe it when I discovered she hadn’t touched a single thing.”
“Probably just as hard for her, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea, to be honest. I don’t even recognize the person she’s become, but that’s a whole different story.”
Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes as they worked on their cones. The waves roared on, but Rachel hardly noticed them for once.
“It’s just a room,” she finally said emphatically.
“It’s her room. Full of her stuff.” Cale’s simple understanding sent a shot of warmth through her. Made it easier to say more.
“The other day, I worked up the courage to open the door and tried to go in.” She licked her ice cream several times and attempted to focus on the richness of the cocoa flavor, the crunchiness of the nuts.
“How’d that go?”
“I couldn’t do it. But I looked inside for a few minutes. Saw all her stuff just where she’d left it. That’s...progress.” She scoffed at herself. “Like I said, twisted.”
“Twisted,” Cale repeated. “Bet I can outtwist you any day.”
“Yeah?” she asked, catching an ice cream drip on her cone before it landed in her lap. “How’s that?”
He took his time answering, taking several bites of cone first. When his cone was half-gone, he tilted his head back, groaned and shook his head. “You have a room you’ve been avoiding. I have a whole condominium.”
“You live with your sister, right?”
He shoved the rest of the cone in his mouth and finished it. “Yep. That’s the twisted part. I have a condo of my own—Noelle helped me pick it out for our future together. A condo right on the beach, that a lot of people would kill for, and I live with my sister in her dinky two-bedroom apartment in the middle of town.”
As Rachel tried to absorb that, a drop of cold ice cream hit her leg. She licked from the bottom to the top of the cone to prevent more drips and dabbed at her leg with her finger.
“I remember Noelle talking about condos. The one you bought is on the first floor, right? Opens right out to the sand?”
She didn’t really need to ask. She remembered it as if