Page 36 of Secondhand Smoke
“So is he.”
Barrett blinked, his grin slipping, and straightened. “What?”
“All things considered, he could have ended up with a much worse nephew. Instead, he got you. I’d say he lucked out.”
Barrett kept moving, but he might as well have frozen because his face had stilled in an unreadable expression, his chocolate eyes fixed on her face. She tried her best to handle the intensity of his gaze, but after only a few seconds, it was too much, and she averted back to the road, now halfway up the hill up to her house.
She could make out the porch lights that were still on, indicating that her parents had left them on for her.
Nell cleared her throat and stopped moving. “My house is right there.” She pointed at it, and finally Barrett’s intense gaze left her to observe her home. “I should go alone from here.”
Given that they were close now, he didn’t put up a fight and transferred the hold of her bicycle to her.
She took the handlebars and smiled at Barrett. “Thanks for walking me.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “I promise next time, we’ll get through the entire lesson.”
He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and, with a final nod, turned to walk away.
Nell stayed put and watched him move farther away with each step. But she couldn’t bring herself to finish her way to her home. She frowned, feeling like she was missing something.
Before he got too far, she realized what it was.
“Barrett,” she called out, her voice echoing softly against the asphalt. “Thank you.”
He raised a questioning brow.
“For listening,” she clarified. “And for talking with me.”
He grinned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “My ears are always available. Just give me the word.” He winked, then spun on his heel and casually descended the hill.
Nell forced herself to move, leaning her bike against the side of the garage and working her way up the porch. She braced herself for her parents to be standing right inside the doorway, chewing their nails and worrying themselves sick.
But as she opened the front door, the area was silent. Save for the soft, warm light of a single lamp in the living room, the interior was dark.
She followed the light and found her father settled on the couch with a coffee mug in hand. He watched her enter and straightened, setting the mug down. In the dim lighting, she almost missed the guilty expression on his face.
She managed a peek inside his glass. Its contents were a clear amber color. Nothing like coffee.
“Where were you?” he asked, standing up so his body blocked her sight of his drink.
“I was at my friend’s house. Sorry I’m late. I lost track of time. Where’s Mom?”
“She was feeling unwell, so I made her go to bed. She’s barely slept the past few days.” He paused and inhaled sharply. “You smell like alcohol.”
Despite their differences, Nell was a lot like her dad. She’d inherited his light blonde hair and blue eyes. She even got his secret affinity for booze. “So do you.”
He knew she knew. He knew she was like him. He knew that he couldn’t say anything without them both being revealed, and if that happened, their characters would be slandered and their—his—community standing would be threatened.
“How did you get home?”
“I walked.”
“Alone?”
“With my friend,” she said and noticed his anxious expression. “Don’t worry. I was safe the whole way. And I’m here, aren’t I? I’m sorry for worrying you, but thank you for letting me go out. I had a good time.”
He relaxed, nodding. “Good. I’m glad.”
