I’m also still a little irritated with my older three sisters, not really wanting to do anything with them; although, I did talk to Juno this morning right before breakfast, and she told me she’d had words with Crew that night, and she felt he had my best interests at heart. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.
That leaves me ridin’ solo wherever I go, which, as I snag my keys and purse from my room, is still undecided. I just have to get out of this place. Too many memories of him everywhere I look.
As I amble out to my car, I scroll my phone for movie times at the local theater, figuring watching Bradley Cooper for a couple of hours could never be a bad thing, no matter how pathetic I look going by myself. I almost miss the white envelope tucked under my windshield wiper, but just as I’m bending to slide behind the steering wheel, the edge of it flaps up in the wind, garnering my attention.
With my breath held, I stretch around and grab the small package with my name printed on the outside of it, a lot nervous and a little bit hopeful. My trembling fingers tear into the paper, and when I get a good look at what’s inside—a single joint with the words ‘I’m sorry’ written on it in red marker—I damn near melt into a puddle of forgiveness on the pavement.
Crew.
He came to find me.
Turning around in a complete circle, I comb the area with keen eyes, but don’t see any sign of him. I’ve got no way of telling when he put this here, and I’m not sure if I should text or call him to let him know I got it or not. My thumb hovers over the screen on my phone as my mind weighs the pros and cons of reaching out to him now, or waiting for him to contact me again.
I chuck the rectangular device onto the passenger’s seat without opening the screen and beam down at the joint resting in my other hand. Dropping down onto the leather captain’s chair, I tuck the apology ‘note’ in a safe place in my purse then pull out of the driveway with a genuine smile on my face—the first one I’ve had in way too long.
There is no contact from Crew for the rest of the day, but my spirits stay positive. I’m cautiously optimistic I’ll hear from him again soon. The following morning, I wake up before my alarm and bounce right out of bed, feeling almost back to myself again.
Once my morning duties are complete, I discuss with Doug my idea to expand the current marijuana greenhouse or to have another one built. Traffic through The Green Halo steadily increases each week, and with the limited space we have, soon we won’t be able to keep up with the demand, which will only mean those buyers will move on to our competition. Thankfully, he’s onboard and agrees to run some numbers to see which option will be the best bang for our buck.
Satisfied, I leave the lodge and head over to the house to change clothes. Earlier, I agreed to take Cheyenne and two of her friends to watch some boys they like at the snowboard park for the afternoon. It’s not really my idea of fun, but it sure beats sitting around doing nothing, and I bring a few magazines to browse through in case it’s worse than I imagine.
An identical envelope is in the exact place on my windshield as the previous one, and before I even rip it open, my heart is fluttering like a giant hummingbird inside my chest. Snatching it up quickly, I’m a tad bit embarrassed to open it in front of Cheyenne, but there’s no way in hell I can’t not read it right now.
Hooking my finger under the lip, I slide it across and peek inside, ecstatic to see another joint inside. He truly knows the way to my heart…and my lungs.
“What does it say?” My younger sister, who I told about the message yesterday, urges me to roll it over in my hand and read the message.
‘I miss you’ is printed in the same red handwriting as yesterday’s note, and this time, I can’t help a satisfied smile from splitting my face. Luckily, Cheyenne keeps her typical know-it-all attitude in check and cheers for me, doing a little dance in her seat while singing her excitement.
The next two days leave me with more message-laden joints, one that says ‘I need you’ and the other that says ‘I want you’, but on the fifth day—New Year’s Eve, no less—when I still haven’t received an envelope at nearly five o’clock in the evening, disappointment sets in. There’s been no other contact from him, and as sure as I was on the first day that the joints were messages from Crew, doubt begins to creep in and I start to wonder if Beckham is the one leaving them.
The thought crushes me.
I want Crew to be sorry and to miss me.
I need him to want me, and I want him to need me.
Crew.
Because I’m in love with him, and despite everything that happened, I still think we have a chance to be good together.
Raking my frustrated fingers through my hair, I check the clock again then go look out the front window to confirm what I already know. Nothing.
I growl a string of curse words under my breath as I slog into the kitchen to get a couple special brownies, resorting to feeding my misery. Just as I stuff a big chocolaty bite into my mouth, Grams rushes inside the house, her expression falling somewhere between panicked and stressed.
“Hudson, thank God you’re here!” she exclaims when she sees me, relief washing over her. “I need you to make a delivery for me. One of our regular Green Halo customers couldn’t make it to the store today, and I promised her one of us would take her an ounce of Orange Krush. It’s for her young daughter, and they’re leaving early in the morning to go out of town and they—” She waves her hand in front of her pause, cutting her own thought short. “Never mind, that’s not important. Your parents are running behind in setting up for the New Year’s Eve Party at the lodge, so I need you to take it, please.”
Unable to speak with my mouth full, I nod my head and give her a thumbs-up.
“Great! I’ll leave the sack and the address on the table in the foyer,” she smiles brightly as she pats my shoulder, “and you can brush your hair and teeth, and maybe uh, change into whatever you’re planning to wear to the party. That way, when you get back, you can come straight to the lodge. It’s already seven-thirty.”
I don’t get a chance to ask her what’s wrong with wearing the black tights and oversized YOLO sweater I’m currently sporting to the party, because she’s gone out the door nearly as hastily as she appeared. Shrugging, I gulp my glass of milk down then go to change clothes.
“She’s on her way.”
Hearing Grams utter those four words ignites a livewire of nerves inside me, buzzing through every inch of my body. It’s happening. She’ll be here soon. Time to man the fuck up or lose my girl.
“But I should warn you,” Hudson’s feisty grandma continues with a chuckle, “she’s in a mood. I found her stuffing her face with brownies a little while ago, so I’m assuming she’s stressing about not getting a package on her car today.”
I’d hoped she’d be a little anxious when she got here, maybe even suspiciously optimistic, not pissed off, but no matter what mood she shows up in, I’m ready for her. Nodding, as if Grams can see me through the phone, I push up off the couch and begin to pace. “Wish me luck, and I guess you’ll know how it went based on if she comes home tonight or not.”
“You don’t need luck when you’ve got love,” she corrects me. “Now go show her just how much. She should be there in about fifteen minutes.”
After we exchange goodbyes, I inspect the cozy log cabin I’ve rented for the weekend for the umpteenth time in the last hour, ensuring every last detail is perfect. Over fifty lit candles scattered around the room. Check. Fridge packed with enough food and drink to last more than a week, including dinner ready to be served. Check. Bed covered with assorted-color sweet pea petals while music plays softly. Check. Jacuzzi filled, heated, and bubbling. Check.