Drive Me Wild - Melanie Harlow Page 0,86
“Until we wanted them to notice us.”
She was quiet for a minute, trying to keep up with the melting ice cream. “Did you know my mom?”
“I sure did.”
“What was she like?”
I remembered what Cole had said about Mariah being curious about her mother and afraid to ask him. My heart ached as I thought for a moment, trying to remember all the best things about Trisha. “She was really cool. She was a softball player, and we used to joke she could hit better than your dad. She was crazy smart and teachers loved her. She was our class president. And she was a really good nurse too. One time, I cut myself on something at work and she came over and stitched me up.”
“She did?” Mariah looked impressed.
“Yes. And it didn’t even hurt.”
“Grandma says I look like her.”
I glanced down at her and smiled. “I agree. And that’s a very good thing because your mom was cute but your dad looks like a grumpy old troll.”
She giggled. “Sometimes he acts like one too.”
We walked a little longer in silence. Mariah finished the cone and licked her fingers, palms, and wrists. Even so, she was a mess when I dropped her off at Cole’s house—chocolate ice cream like a beard on her face and all over the front of her pink shirt.
“Sorry,” I said to Mrs. Mitchell at the door. “She’s a little chocolaty.”
Cole’s mom laughed and patted Mariah’s head. “That’s okay. She’s going straight into the tub. Did you have fun, sweetie?”
“Yes!”
“Say thank you.”
Mariah turned and wrapped her arms around my waist, her cheek pressed against my ribs. “Thank you, Uncle Griffin.”
I hugged her back. “You’re welcome.”
“I love you,” she said, surprising me. She’d never told me that before.
“I love you too, kiddo.” I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d told someone that. Or heard someone say it to me. I’d forgotten how deeply the words could burrow into your bones.
On my way home, I thought about how lucky Cole was to have a daughter.
Back in my apartment, I popped the cap off a cold beer and studied the contents of my fridge. Blair had gone grocery shopping while she was here, so there was a lot more to choose from than usual, but I didn’t feel like making anything. I was about to order a pizza when I heard someone knock on my door.
Puzzled, I went down the stairs, beer in hand. The door had no glass pane, so I had to open it to see who was there.
It was my sister.
She held up a brown paper bag. “I have food. Can I come in?”
“I guess. Since you have food.”
She followed me up the stairs and started unpacking takeout from the pub on the kitchen island. “When you didn’t show up, I figured you were back here nursing your sore ego, so I thought I’d play good sister and bring you dinner.”
I gave her the finger. “Want a beer?”
“Yes, please.” She took the plastic cover off a container holding a burger and fries and lifted the top of the bun before sliding it toward me. “This one’s yours. Mine has no onion.”
I popped the cap off a bottle of Two Hearted Ale and handed it to her. “Thanks.”
Cheyenne sat on one of the island stools across from where I stood, and we dug into the meal. “So,” she said after a couple minutes. “Rough game.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll get ’em next weekend.”
“I hope so.” I took a long swallow of my beer.
“That doesn’t sound like your usual cocky self talking.”
I shrugged. Took another sip.
“Poor Cole,” she said with a sigh. “Do you think his arm will be okay?”
“If he rests it.” Then I couldn’t resist a little jab. “Why don’t you offer him a massage?”
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“Come on. You’ve been wanting to get your hands on him for twenty years.”
“What?” she shrieked. “I have not.”
“Please.” I took a huge bite of my burger and chewed while I watched her face go from pink to purple. “I’m not an idiot.”
She grabbed her beer and tipped it up. “Does he know?”
“I have no idea. He’s never said anything to me about it.”
“You can’t tell him,” she said. “Ever.”
“Why would I tell him?”
“I don’t know.” She set her beer down, picked up a fry and put it down again. “Now my stomach hurts.”
“For fuck’s sake, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Yes it is, Griffin!”
“So if you feel that strongly about it, why not ask him out or something?”
“Because I