Page 17 of The Art of Dying

I squeezed his hand. “Thank you. But I don’t normally… this isn’t typical for me. Just so you know.”

“Didn’t think it was.” He let go of my fingers to turn to face me, perching his head on his hand. “It’s not for me, either.”

“I’m sorry for, um… for slapping you when we met. That’s not typical, either. Well, I didn’t used to be like that. And I’m not like that now. I don’t know what I’m trying to say…”

“You’re not like what? Telling a man what’s up? You weren’t wrong, I shouldn’t have touched you without permission.”

“I could’ve just pulled away and said as much.”

“You shouldn’t have to pull away. I didn’t fault you for it.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

“And I shouldn’t have touched you, so we’re even. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, feeling marginally better.

“I hope you’re here when I get back. It’d be a damn shame if I left and never saw you again.”

I smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Where would you go? Back to Nashville?”

“Maybe.” I frowned. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“So, you’re not close with your family there?”

“I mean… I miss my parents. I have aunts and uncles and cousins back home. But I haven’t had this job very long. I’m going to get more time under my belt and then… I don’t know. It depends on a lot of things.”

“Is one of those things if Mason comes back?”

“That’s number one,” I said, trying to keep the disdain from my face. I hated everything about him, even his name.

“I guess I’d better start praying he doesn’t, then.”

“I pray for that every night.”

He hesitated before speaking his next words. “What happened between you two? I mean, everyone knows Mason’s a dick, but… no one really knows what happened.”

“Really? I thought everyone knew.”

He shrugged. “Sully didn’t. Or maybe he just wasn’t saying because it’s not his story to tell. I guess it’s none of my business. Forget I asked.”

“Sounds good to me. It’s weird having this conversation naked.”

He chuckled, turned over and bent down to the floor and then returned to hand me his T-shirt.

I took it from him. “You want me to put this on?”

His eyebrows pulled in. “Wow. I am genuinely conflicted right now. There is nothing I want more than to be next to you with nothing on, and there is also nothing I want more than to see you in my T-shirt.”

I smiled. “Which is it?”

He nodded toward the shirt. “If it makes you more comfortable while we’re talkin’, put it on.”

I sat up and pulled his shirt over my head, relaxing back.

His grin spanned from one ear to the other.

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