13. The Morning
693 Words
I wake the next morning to my phone chiming. I check it to see my mother's contact calling me and press ignore, not wanting to listen to her scolding this early in the morning. She somehow always manages to disrupt my peace, even hundreds of miles away.
Knowing I need to start my day, I climb out of my bed and head upstairs. Dad is cooking at the stove when I walk into the kitchen and the smell of coffee makes me warm inside. I step beside him at the counter and rub the sleepiness out of my eyes.
"How'd you sleep, darlin'?" He asks.
I shrug. "Can't complain. I didn't realize how tired I was," I respond, my stomach growling at the smell of the eggs and sausage he's cooking. "What about you, old man?"
He smirks and mocks my shrug. "Can't complain."
I reciprocate his smile before turning serious. "Mom called me," I tell him.
His head lifts from looking down at the pan. "Really? What'd she have to say?"
"I don't know. I ignored her call."
He looks surprised at this. "You guys on bad terms?" He asks.
"We always have been, Dad. Her doing and not mine," I respond vaguely, taking the plate of food he passes me. I take a seat at the table and dig in, extremely famished.
Dad sits across from me in his usual spot, a confused expression masking his face. "What is it?" I ask.
"Nothin', honey. I just...don't remember your mother being anything but kind. When I knew her, she was as sweet as you are now," he explains, making my heartache for him.
"Did you love her?" I ask him.
He shakes his head. "Not in the way she wanted. Maybe that's why she's so bitter now, but I love you more than anything in this world, Aurora. And that's all that matters."
"I love you, too, Pop."
* * *
Around five, I leave the house to make my way out of town. I'm meeting Tucker for our second date at his house and he's cooking dinner for the two of us. Though I know this might be moving too fast, I've chosen to go with the flow for once and give it my all. Moving here to Tennessee was a huge, life-altering decision to make, but I'm satisfied with it.
I'm knocking on the door of Tucker's huge farmhouse thirty minutes later, my eyes straying to the view of the mountains miles inland. Tucker swings the door open after a moment with a kitchen towel on his shoulder and a content glow in his eyes. He's wearing worn jeans with a white t-shirt today and his feet are bare against the hardwood floors of the house. His hair is - as always - a delicious mess that looks like he just went rounds with a woman.
"Hey, sweetie. You comin' in?" He asks, shattering my euphoric gazing.
I step forward until I'm inside the warm interior of the house, my heartbeat picking up at the notion of me being here with him. Tucker's arms around me suddenly cause me to relax and lean into him.
"You okay, babe? You sounded kinda worked up on the phone."
Shit. Does he notice everything?
Yes. Yes, he does.
"It's nothing," I try to say, but he sees right through it. He raises an eyebrow in a manner as if he wants to ask me to talk.
"Can we talk about it later?" I ask.
He nods and takes my hand, steering us to the kitchen. "Have you ate?" He questions, pulling a pan out of the oven.
"Not since breakfast," is my response.
I watch as he sets up plates for the both of us, placing servings of pot roast with potatoes and carrots onto them. He takes a seat beside me at the island and we begin eating, a comfortable silence filling the air around us.
Once the both of us have finished eating, I sip the beer Tucker handed to me and watch as he cleans up, his muscles flexing as he moves throughout the kitchen. When he reaches for my hand, I accept his and follow him to the living room. We take our seats on the couch and he turns to face me.
"What's on your mind, sweetness?"
- Writer
