Page 38 of Surrender

“I did not let you catch me!” she shrieks, a flush blazing up her neck. “Corjan said nobody was home!”

I roll my tongue over the inside of my cheek and grin. The memory of finding her changing in my bedroom all those years ago flits to the surface.

“It’s not funny!”

“No, it isn’t.” I pick an imaginary piece of lint from my thigh. “The truth is I didn’t notice you. Not in the way you wanted me to.”

“Gee, thanks,” she mumbles, a light flush on her cheeks.

“Hey, it’s not like that. You’re beautiful. But it’d be a little creepy if I found a sixteen-year-old attractive when I was almost twenty-one.”

It’s her turn to laugh, rich and throaty. “Maybe from your perspective, but sixteen-year-old me would have felt so cool.”

“I would have felt like a creep.”

“Yeah.” She leans onto her elbow and sighs. “It’s funny how those things change as you get older and have kids. I can’t imagine what I’d do if Lucy were in that situation.”

“I don’t envy you for that future conversation.”

She clears her throat. “Anyway, you derailed what was supposed to be an apology since you won’t let me repay you for the food or replace your couch.”

“Nope. You have nothing to apologize for either.”

My response is meant to be final, but I nearly choke on air as she wraps her pouty lips around the rim of her beer. Watching her drink is the sweetest form of torture. If this keeps up, I’ll need to place a pillow over my lap like a damn teenager.

“I’ll let it go for now. But don’t forget I live in Fairview Valley now. So there’s hope to repay you in the future.”

“Speaking of, I was going to tell you there’s a house for rent off Third Avenue by the library. I’m not sure if you remember the area. I have no idea what it looks like or what they’re asking, but I thought I’d pass along the info.”

Her annoyed expression clears instantly. “I will definitely check it out. The movers are supposed to show up next week, and it’d be nice if I had a place at least on standby before they got here.”

“I have space if you don’t figure it out by then. The garage has empty shelving and also a finished attic.” I stop talking as she levels me with another glare. Tossing back the dregs of my beer, I pop open another one and say, “Or I’m sure most members of my family can also help you out if you’d rather not get me involved again.”

Whitney huffs and turns her attention to the fire. “I appreciate it. I really do. I guess I’m just struggling with relying on people when the whole point of starting fresh was to do it by myself.”

I swallow hard. The words I want to say roll around on my tongue. “I think one of the most independent things a person can do is realize when they need a little help and not be afraid to ask for it.”

“Says the guy who lives on his own and runs his own business.” She finishes off her own drink, so I hand her another. Our fingers brush.

“You think I’ve done all that without asking for help? My brothers helped me fix the place up.”

“You’re lucky to have them,” she says, her voice soft and delicate.

A silence envelops us. I pick at the label on the bottle in my hands, questions I want to ask bouncing around my skull. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.”

“What happened to the kids’ dad?”

“I wondered when you’d bring that up. Lucy isn’t exactly subtle when talking about her father.”

“I think it’s great she feels like it’s okay to talk about him.”

Whitney leans a bit closer and wraps her arms around her knees, holding them against her chest. “He died about six months ago, not long after Bennett was born. Had a heart attack in our garage while we were gone visiting his sister. Lucy doesn’t really understand. She knows he’s not here anymore, but I don’t think she grasps the idea of dying. She’ll ask where he is and then remember he’s gone.”

I find myself drawn a bit closer. “How are you holding up?”

She gazes down at her feet. “I’m fine.”

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