Page 31 of The Two Last Moments

“Why? She was reminiscing about when her kids were young. It was natural to mention him.”

“Yeah, but Nina can keep certain subjects quiet if she wants to. She didn’t even tell me she was sick until months had passed. She didn’t want my input.”

And now, there’s somethingIdon’t like to talk about.

Lark doesn’t need to know about the arguments Nina and I had about her care decisions. Hospice certainly isn’t a death sentence. It’s not a guarantee that she’s going to die. We need to be realistic. That’s why I’ve been urging my dad to come see her. But am I giving up on her? Fuck, no. I’m not.

While I want to focus on ways to help her live as long as possible with a good quality of life, Nina seems more resigned. It makes no sense to me. If you can keep fighting, then why the hell wouldn’t you? And Nina’s more of a fighter than anyone I know.

“But you told Nina what you felt about it?” she asks.

“Sure.” I give her an easy smile and take a deep breath to get my pulse to calm down. “I’m like you. I usually say what I’m thinking. With a slightly better filter than yours.”

Lark rolls her eyes. “What fun is that?”

We work quietly on the car for a while. I get into a groove. That meditative space where my mind is wandering, yet not sticking to any particular thing.

“So, you think we’re alike?” Lark asks.

“Hmm?”

“You said you’re like me. Because we both say what we’re thinking.”

“We have things in common,” I say carefully. “But I’m probably a lot older than you.”

“How old is that?”

“Thirty-three.”

She’s looking down at the engine instead of at me. Her lips and cheeks are pale pink. Probably soft. And she’s giving off that innocent, vulnerable energy that really seems to get me going when I’m around her. That’s not usually my thing. I don’t go for much-younger women or virgins or anything like that. In fact, I’d feel like a pervert if I did.

But the way my blood is trying to flow straight to my cock makes me feel pretty pervy right damn now. Imagining her bent over that car…

Fuck. I need to stop.

I train my eyes on the engine so I’ll stop noticing the subtle curves beneath her baggy T-shirt.

Now, I feel her eyes on me. “How old do you think I am?”

“Young,” I say automatically, and she huffs.

“That’s not helpful. I’m being serious. I’ve been trying to figure this out. It bugs me that I don’t know.”

I set down the tool I was holding and focus on her. This is really bothering her, and I was being a dick about it, thinking only of my newly discovered perverted tendencies.

“Come here. Let me see you.”

I’m sitting on a stool. Lark walks over to me, stopping when she’s just between my knees. If I reached out, I could pull her into my lap. I bet her legs would fit perfectly around my waist.

Nope, not thinking any more about that.

“Unless you went to a disreputable shop, you would’ve gotten your tattoos after you turned eighteen. But they don’t look brand new.” I delicately take one of her wrists in my fingers and turn her arm. “Could be several years old.”

“I’ve got fine lines on my face too.”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

She scrunches up her face. “Around my eyes and my mouth.”

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