Page 45 of The Fix-Up

“Wasn’t all your fault,” he said in a way that sounded like he thought it was indeed all my fault. He stomped the rest of the way to his car and set the crumpled hat on top of it. “Did you need something?”

The sky began spitting rain. I ducked under the carport and leaned against my car. “Oliver was worried about you. I told him I’d check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” I stared down at my shoes. “It’s pretty cold out.”

“Yeah, it is.”

I peeked up at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Will it make you go away sooner if I say yes?”

“Why haven’t you asked to move into the house?” Since Sunny had mentioned it, I couldn’t stop thinking about why he would do it. Why wouldn’t he insist on using what was his?

“What?”

“I mean, half the house is yours. But you agreed to living out here without even arguing.”

His head tilted to the side—I’d noticed he did that when he was thinking. “Because you have a kid.”

“Sure, but a lot of people would never have agreed, even with a kid involved.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, it is,” I said quietly.

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I was raised by a single mom until my stepdad came along. Guess I understand where you’re coming from.” He opened a car door. “And I work with kids. You did the right thing, putting Oliver first. I respect that.”

“Oh. Thank you,” I said. “That’s kind of you.”

“Not kind. Just the minimum needed to be a decent human.” From the car, he pulled out a heavy winter jacket. The kind of jacket almost no one in our area of Texas bothered owning because the cold days were so few and far between. He slipped it on and zippered it. The tag dangled from the sleeve; he didn’t tear it off.

“Then thank you for being a decent human.” I wrapped my cardigan around me tighter.

“If we’re done here, I’m going to bed.” He ducked back in the car and pulled out a new pack of socks, the thick, heavy kind.

A twinge of guilt tickled my brain as I shivered against the cold. The cold Gil was going to be sleeping in. It had been overtwo weeks and well, he hadn’t murdered us yet. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

The slam of the car door brought me back to the present. Gil marched over to the tent. He’d left the hat on his car, so I snagged it and unfurled it. With a giggle, I put it on.

“A sheep hat, huh?”

Gil turned. “My brother likes sheep.”

“Baa.” But honestly, the thing was doing a good job of warming me up.

He unzipped the tent. “Goodnight, Eleanor.”

“Night.” I walked slowly back to the house, tugging on the flaps of the hat I’d taken with me. That twinge of guilt was quickly becoming an insistent pang. Could I ignore it? I could try…

With a groan, I turned back and stormed over to the tent.

“Oh, fine. You can sleep inside. But you get the clown room.”

SIXTEEN

Love is friendship on steroids.

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