Page 57 of The Darkest Parts of Me

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Maven

Imust look a bit deranged as I quickly throw items into a large bag. I have a moment of hesitation when I start up my car, glancing at the stuffed bag of my belongings next to me on the passenger seat. I can almost hear Tasha’s voice in my head: “How long are you staying? A week?”

“Oh, shut up,” I say out loud and then back out of the driveway. I’m cautious driving, probably overly so, because it takes me fifteen extra minutes to get to Renn’s. Since I don’t actually remember the crash from that rainy night many years ago, it doesn’t give me anxiety as much as it makes me mindful when driving in these conditions.

I’m fairly familiar with Renn’s place, but it’s been many years since I’ve seen it in person. It’s barely visible as the rain bounces off the windshield when I pull up the drive. As I move closer, I spot Renn on the side of the house, gathering firewood from a large pile sheltered from the rain. I pull the hood of my raincoat over my head, grab the bag, and brave the downpour.

When he turns to find me there, I call out to him. “Do you need any help?”

He jogs over quickly, meeting me at the porch steps. His dark green rain coat and hood cover most of him, but it still doesn’t hide his broad shoulders and chest underneath.

“I got it,” he says with a grin, glancing down at my bag. “So, a month then? I don’t think your power will be out that long.”

It takes me a second to realize what he means because I’m too busy drinking him in, but once I do, I hit him lightly on the arm. “Oh, stop! I’m just prepared, that’s all. What if we get snowed in or something?”

Renn bites his lip almost nervously, and I think I spy a hint of blush on his cheeks again, which only makes me blush in return. “Always good to be prepared,” he says, winking, then motions to the door. I carefully walk up the porch steps, him following closely behind as I push open the door. Stepping into Renn’s house gives me a rush of excitement, and Shy is there to greet me, her tail wagging happily. It has a similar layout to my own, just smaller with fewer bedrooms. The space is open, a seating area and fireplace with a small kitchen at the end of the room and a back door that leads to the deck. To the left is a set of stairs with a door beside them for the bathroom. No pictures hang on the dark wooden walls, but it’s tidy and inviting. A simple but cozy-looking couch sits in front of a large, greystone fireplace.

“This must be where I’m sleeping?” I ask, nodding to the couch. Renn gives me a bemused look as I set down my bag. We both remove our shoes and hang our coats on the hooks near the door.

“If I had it my way, I’d be sleeping there and you would be in the loft, but yes, that’s one place that you can sleep,” he says.

“So upstairs is your room,” I say, walking further into the house and nodding toward the stairs.

“It is.”

That was a dumb thing to say. Obviously that’s where he sleeps. I pretend to be interested in the kitchen, hiding my embarrassment as I continue to look around.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asks, walking into the kitchen with me.

“Something to drink would be nice, thank you.”

“I didn’t stop at the store on my way home, so I don’t have a lot of food options, but I do have coffee,” he says, placing his hands on the countertop of the small island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Coffee would be great. I’m still feeling a bit cold.”

“You got it.” I watch him gather up supplies and a mug from a cupboard. “Please, make yourself at home.”

I walk over to the couch and flop down. It really is as comfy as it looks, and Shy jumps up to join me, placing her head on my lap. I scratch her ears, busying myself as Renn makes the coffee. Soon, the warm aroma mixes with the fire . . . and the smell of Renn, that is, of course, everywhere in this house. I wish I could drink it all in, not just the coffee.

“Here you go.” He hands me the mug, our fingers brushing slightly before he sits down on the other end of the couch with Shy between us.

“Thank you so much for this, and I don’t just mean the coffee.” I don’t look at him as I say it, feeling silly that I’m so nervous sitting here in his house.

“Of course. Like I said, I’m here, for anything.” I look up at him, and his green eyes are just as bright and deep in the firelight. I part my lips but can’t find the words to respond. He looks toward the fire. “I better throw a few more on just in case the power goes off during the night,” he says, walking toward the pile of logs neatly stacked near the hearth.

As he crouches to add the wood to the fire, I notice for the first time what he’s wearing. He has on a pair of black, cotton jogger pants and a long-sleeve, light gray shirt that is, of course, rolled up on his muscled forearms. The pants stretch across his thighs as he leans in, adding a few more logs. I spot the chain of his necklace peeking over the collar, lying across the back of his neck. If he feels my gaze on him, I don’t care. I don’t try to hide the fact that I am completely and fully checking him out. Especially now that I know what it feels like to be pressed up against his body, what those arms feel like around me. I take a small sip of my coffee as he stands to retrieve the poker next to the wood pile.

“I’m not usually this helpless, you know.” I blurt, and I don’t know why, maybe to calm my nerves by talking—not that it’s helped much in the past. But it’s too late to take it back now.

He stands, turning with a confused expression.

“I never said you were helpless,” he says, calm and serious. Renn mimics me by crossing his arms to give me one of his soul-piercing stares.

“I know you didn’t. I just . . . Well, you seem to be saving me a lot lately. So, it probably looks that way.”

Renn’s reaction surprises me. It’s not a look of pity, but I can’t decide what it is. Maybe frustration?

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