Unexpectedly Yours(4)

 

"It's … it's just that I've had a long day, and I was planning on an early  night." All of that was true, so why did she say it like she knew it  was the lamest excuse ever?

He exhaled loud enough for her to hear, and that made her wonder if he'd  been holding his breath. Did Derek want to go with her to a bar that  much?

He pushed to his feet, the scraping of his chair sounding harsh in the sudden silence.

"Guess I should get going," he muttered.

Her heart dipped. She hadn't meant to chase him away-she was glad to see  him. She stood, too, noticing once again how he filled the space. The  kitchen was a decent size, but with Derek there it felt cramped, as if  there wasn't enough oxygen to go around. Yet another change she had to  adapt to. She'd always felt comfortable in his company before. He was  simply Caleb's friend who liked to hang around, not saying much. But now  he made her fidgety and edgy, and as much as she didn't want him to go,  it would be a relief to be able to breathe normally again.

"I'll see you around," she said as she walked him to the front door.

"Thanks for the sandwich." He paused, and then, without warning, he  reached out and wrapped his arms around her. "It's good to see you  again, Hannah."

Then he was gone, the screen door snicking shut behind him, and she was  alone, the warm press of his arms around her body lingering long after  his footsteps had faded into the night.



"What the Sam Hill do you think you're doing?" Otto barked.

Derek looked up from the storeroom floor where he was crouched amidst  piles of cans, bottles, and boxes. "Grandpa, why do you have so much  food in here?"

"It's none of your business. You leave my things alone."

Derek lifted up an oversize can of tomatoes. "But there's no way you'll  ever eat all this." He picked up a leaking bag of flour. "And look at  this. Something's chewed a hole here, probably a mouse. Some of this  stuff needs to be cleared out."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Leaning heavily on one crutch, Otto  jabbed the other at Derek. "You put that flour back. And everything  else. I need all of it."

"What for?" Derek gestured at the jumble surrounding him. It looked like  his granddad had been hoarding food for months, if not years. "Are you  planning on opening a soup kitchen?"

"Soup kitchen? Fat chance." Otto snorted. "I'm not wasting my bug-in  supplies on tramps and hoboes. They and everyone else can take care of  themselves when the big one hits."

"Bug-in supplies?" Sighing, Derek rose to his feet. "Is that what all  this is? You're prepping for a disaster?" He should have guessed it  before. After all, Otto had broken his leg falling off a ladder while  attempting to connect his gutter to a rain barrel.

His granddad stuck out his bristly chin. "Don't you roll your eyes at  me, boy. And when Armageddon strikes, don't come running here either,  'cause I ain't got enough supplies for you. Not that you'd ever make it  from L.A. The roads would be crawling with thugs, if there are any roads  left."

"So what kind of Armageddon are you prepping for? An earthquake, civil riots?"

"Maybe. Could be Yellowstone blowing up, Ebola, solar flares. Could be  anything. Whatever it is, I'll be prepared, unlike all the fools out  there."

His grandfather had always been a recluse, but now he seemed to be  actively looking forward to the end of the world and barricading himself  against everyone else.

"I seriously doubt society will break down so easily, but even in the  remote chance that it does, you're not going to last long eating  contaminated food like this." Derek waved the spoiled bag of flour.  "This will make you sick. There's probably a lot of food here that needs  to be thrown out."

His grandfather's thin face puffed up with red. "I don't need you  telling me what I can and can't eat. And if I wanted you to tidy up this  room, I'd have asked you."

Derek scowled at the messy storeroom. His grandfather ruled his house  like a Spartan-no luxury, no waste, no comfort-but he'd always kept it  basically clean. And he'd never let vermin into his house. But maybe the  years were finally catching up.

An uncomfortable feeling rolled through Derek. His grandfather had only  ever tolerated him, constantly grumbling about the noise, the expense,  and the trouble he caused, never showing any softness or kindness. But  now the old man was growing old and fragile and needed his help, even if  he insisted he didn't.   





 

"Grandpa," he said more softly, "if you're prepping for the end of the  world, then doesn't it make sense to be more organized? This storeroom  needs to be cleaned up, and I'm going to do it."

"You've become mighty pushy since you left home. I suppose you want to  build me shelves and racks, huh? Maybe even a pantry, too? One of them  half-witted ones with pull-out drawers and spice racks." He spit out the  last words like they tasted rotten.

"I can put in shelves here if you like," Derek said, determined not to lose his cool. "You could tell me exactly what you want."

"What I want is for you to leave my storeroom and everything in it  alone." Otto glared at him before he swung around and hobbled away. A  few seconds later came the sound of the television tuned in to some  fifties Western.

With a sigh, Derek set aside the bag of flour and surveyed the remaining  piles. It wouldn't take him long to straighten out the storeroom.

He was hefting a bag of spoiled food to the garbage bin outside when  Caleb arrived in his pickup truck. Derek got rid of his load and went to  greet him.

"I'm actually on my way out of town," Caleb said. Caleb's construction  job meant he was often away from Pine Falls for several days at a time.  "Won't be back until Sunday, so this is the only time I could see you."

"Want a root beer?"

"Yeah, sure." Caleb followed him to the kitchen where Derek pulled a  couple of root beers from the fridge. They settled themselves on the  back porch.

"Root beers." Caleb grinned. "Look at us. Who'da thought us two would become so responsible?"

"You calling yourself responsible?" Derek quirked a brow at his buddy. "I know you still lose big time on your poker games."

"Hey, a man's gotta have a few vices. You have women, and I have poker."

Derek pressed his lips together. He knew he had a reputation, but it wasn't as bad as the tabloids made out.

"How's your grandpa?" Caleb asked. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you can give him a personality transplant. He's hoarding  food for the next apocalypse and it's all going to waste, and he won't  listen to me."

"I'm sorry, man. Must be tough on you."

They drank in silence for a few moments, and Derek felt some of the  tension ease from his shoulders. Caleb had always been a good friend,  more like a brother to him.

"Maybe Hannah could help," Caleb said, "now that she's back permanently."

"No." Derek quickly shook his head. "She doesn't need this, not when she's still picking up the pieces."

"Yeah." Caleb's face darkened. "That fucker Rick. I knew he was no good for her. I should have stopped her from marrying him."

Derek slowly sat up. "What are you saying? You knew something about him before they got married?"

"Uh-huh." Caleb grimaced. "I caught him in a bar chatting up some  easy-looking woman. When I challenged him about it, he said it was  nothing, just an old girlfriend saying hi."

"And you bought his story?" Anger built in Derek. Dammit, to think that Hannah might have been spared all that heartache.

"I didn't know any better. And I was eighteen and drinking in a bar. How  was I going to explain that?" Caleb swiped a hand over his face. "Plus,  Hannah was looking forward to the wedding so much, I didn't have the  heart to tell her."

Derek squeezed the bottle between his hands. "How come you never told me?"

"Jeez, I was grounded at the time, remember? I wasn't even supposed to be out, let alone sneaking into a bar."

Derek's chest contracted. "How could I forget?" When Derek had screwed  up big time just before graduation, Caleb had claimed responsibility for  the accident so that Derek could escape Pine Falls and his granddad.  Caleb's license had been suspended and his dad had grounded him for  three months. That was the kind of friend he was.

Sighing, Caleb leaned back against the porch railing. "One thing's for  sure. I won't make the same mistake again. I'm going to make damn sure  Hannah doesn't end up with another jerk. No one who isn't a squeaky  clean boy scout is getting past me."

Derek scratched his neck, uncomfortable at what Caleb would say if he  knew what he really felt about Hannah. "Buddy, it's the twenty-first  century, and your sister's older than you. You don't have a say in her  love life."

Caleb's face had taken on a mulish determination. "Don't care what  century it is. Anyone who wants a crack at Hannah will have to get past  me first."