Page 51 of No More Love Songs

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SKYLAR

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I loved this bed thefirst night I spent in it. Everything about this room was so cozy and comfy and just felt like home from the second I walked in. And it looks nothing like my actual home. Or even Gray and Brice’s home, so it really was just the energy in here.

And I do mean was. Because that was before. Before I felt this room with Kit in it, really in it. In it with me. Now, the room alone just can’t hold up.

I can’t seem to decide if I find it disappointing, terrifying or just plain delightful that one man’s presence can alter my experience of a freaking bedroom so drastically. Then I remember that this same man is downstairs, waiting for me, with coffee, and I land squarely in delighted again.

So, here I am, happily humming to myself as I tug up the way too big cargo pants I decided to wear today even though I need a belt to keep them up. And have to roll up several times to even find my feet.

Because they’re not actually mine, but a pair I stole from Gray.

Borrowed. I borrowed them from him.

Three years ago.

Maybe I stole them.

In any event, they’re now my favorite pants of all time and I never feel more myself than I do when I’m wearing them.

They’re also covered in paint. Because I borrowed them the last time we all volunteered with Habitat for Humanity. I always wind up with the painting gig. Seems no one really trusts me with power tools. Or nails. To be fair, I did nail my brother’s thumb to a fencepost once. I was twelve and we were both being supervised by our Uncle Charlie at the time, the most carefree and least responsible adult in the state of Indiana, possibly the entire Midwest, but still, I don’t suppose it’s the sort of thing Brice is ever going to forget about.

The more I think about it, I’m not really sure how they came to be my favorite pants, but I am sure it doesn’t matter. I pull a tank top over my head and take a moment to breathe. I’ve been doing my best to stay present, go with the flow, take the moments as they come and all that, ever since I decided to get in Kit’s truck and come out here. It’s good for me. In some ways, I’ve been more at ease and myself than I’ve been in forever and I haven’t had to pull out those pants once to get there.

But I can’t deny that I’ve also allowed myself to avoid things this way. Things like the flutter of excitement I get in the pit of my stomach every time Kit shows up somewhere unexpectedly. Or the obnoxious way I can’t seem to stop smiling after I’ve spent too much time with him, like right now, my stupid face literally hurts from all this smiling.

He’s just so freaking wonderful and he’s said so many beautiful, perfect things to me. And I’m definitely not dwelling on the way that man can kiss. Holy shit, that man can kiss.

Or the way I’m starting to let my guard down, even around strangers, just because I trust him and the way he looks out for me, even when I don’t notice, and despite the fact I don’t ask him to.

I notice these moments, but I don’t stay in them. Because it’s precisely these sorts of moments I came out here to escape. Still, I can’t deny them. Even when I’m not sure if I can believe in them like I once did. If I even want to.

So, I don’t think about them. Don’t allow myself to wonder what they could mean or where they could lead if we continue on this track.

“Not going to now either,” I announce to Jack, who I am certain has been learning to read my mind as of late. I can just tell by the way she watches me, head always turned a little, ears perked up at attention and eyes watching me with deep understanding, like she can see right to the core of me and make sense of everything I hold inside me. “You coming?”

She hops off the bed in response and leads the way toward the door.

As soon as I get down the stairs, I make a beeline for the kitchen. I tell myself it’s the coffee that calls to me, but the truth is, I can’t wait to see Kit again. Even if it’s only been maybe twenty minutes since I saw him last.

“Good afternoon,” I chirp louder than usual. If chirping were the sort of sound I usually make. It’s not. I’m not a chirper. Especially before coffee. I’m a pre-coffee mumbler. Except apparently when I’m in a mountain lodge, surrounded by nature with a sexy mountain man complete with his flannel, messy pulled back hair, and backwards baseball cap, right in my line of vision, smiling straight at me, cup of coffee already in hand. Then, I chirp. As any sane woman would.

“We made pancakes,” Ari informs me as I make a beeline for the mug being held in my direction.

“Smells like it!” I love pancakes. Just not as much as I love coffee. I’m just inches from my cup of heaven and the smokin’ hot man holding it (now that I’ve admitted my attraction to him, I seem incapable of ignoring it), when I notice a third person in the kitchen, sitting with Ari at the counter, both of them enjoying very large stacks of pancakes. “Oh, you must be...Rat?” I’m sure that’s what Kit called her, but I still feel weird saying it out loud. To her face.

She seems aware, because she laughs and stretches her hand in my direction for a proper introduction. “My parents prefer Scarlet, but yeah, most people call me Rat.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Skylar, or Sky,” I smile, trying to refrain from asking how she came to have that nickname, but it’s no use. “So, how does one come to be known as a rodent?”

I can hear Ari stifle a laugh behind me, but I don’t care. I have questions. And I like answers.

“It’s surprisingly easy,” Rat explains. “All it takes is long fingernails, a nervous tapping habit and a rhythmic pattern that sounds eerily like little rat feet running around.”

“Huh.” Wouldn’t have guessed that. “Interesting.” And also, “Hi.” I’m finally able to give my undivided attention to Kit. Except now that I’m able to, I’m not entirely sure how to utilize this opportunity. We never talked about how we would act outside of my room. Let alone, in front of his kid.

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