Page 65 of Under My Skin
The hesitancy in her voice is enough to break my heart. I can see the dynamic between them so clearly. She needs him, but he’s needed space. I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait for Everett’s response. I hope he can see how hard she’s trying to be strong for him.
Everett takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”
Nancy grins, this time with a slight shine in her eyes. Blinking back the emotion that just came over her, she waves us toward the door with both hands. “Go, go, go. Don’t let me hold you up.”
Everett pauses, and for a moment I think he might hug her, but after a split second, he just says, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“I will. Now, go.”
With that, we say another quick round of goodbyes before heading outside. Everett stays quiet as we walk down the driveway to his dad’s old bike. I wonder if just seeing it parked here brings back memories for him—a simpler time when he wasn’t the rider.
The question of whether he’s okay is on the tip of my tongue, but I press my lips together and fight the urge to ask. Instead, we stay in comfortable silence until he has my helmet in his hands. Looking down at the face shield for a moment, he says, “Thanks for coming. That was . . .” He glances at the house behind us. “That was better.” Placing the helmet on my head, he adds, “She’s different around you.”
“I think you both are just carrying a lot.”
He pauses, mulling my words over, so I continue.
“It’s like you both want to help lighten the load for each other, but your arms are already full.”
Reaching for his own helmet, his mouth quirks into a fraction of a smile, but there’s a trace of sadness behind it. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” Before I can register the emotion on his face, he pulls his helmet over his head, and I’m left staring back at my own warped reflection. “The Steamy Mug?”
Did I say something wrong? I’m suddenly glad the helmet hides my own expression just as much. I don’t need Everett to know how much I’m analyzing him from behind the mask. “Yeah. That would be great.”
He pulls on his gloves and pats a rhythm on the side of his thighs. Then, once he’s seated on the bike, he offers me a hand like a chauffeur for a limousine might. I force a laugh, still not sure I can read him.
Placing my other hand on his shoulder, I hoist my leg up and over, so I’m seated behind him. My arms wrap around his waist, but even though this is starting to feel like second nature to me, my brow stays pinched for the entire drive. It may have been a while since I’ve slept with someone casually, but he’s acting like he’s never seen me naked. Scratch that. He’s acting like he’s never eventhoughtof me naked. Then again, we were just at his mom’s house where he did the things his dad used to take care of around the house. He’s probably sorting through a few different emotions.
God, I’m an asshole.
Of course his mind is preoccupied. Anyone forced to face their grief is bound to sort through some things. I can’t make this about me because it isn’t about me at all.
Taking a steadying breath, I lean my head against his back and feel my brow relax as I surrender to whatever this is.
Chapter Thirty-Six
EVERETT
Simon is streamingThe Officeagain, and at this point, I’ve just accepted this will happen multiple times a year. Hell, when we used to live together right after college, it may have happened almost monthly. I thought he had moved on to a new obsession by now, but it only took three days after moving in for me to hear the familiar opening credits.
He was already on season three then, and over the last month, we’ve somehow ended up in season six even though we both work full time. To be fair, I guess a lot of my work has been done sitting in this chair with my iPad while the show plays in the background like I’m doing now. I finish up some of the final shading on a water lily shoulder piece I have scheduled for later this week and save the file.
Simon shovels in another bite of his crockpot chicken and rice. “I wonder when Lucy will be back. She didn’t even take the car.” He hunches over his plate as rice falls from his mouth.
I’m wondering the same thing. Lucy didn’t have much to say when I dropped her off at the coffee shop earlier, and I texted her a couple of hours ago to see if she needed a ride. Tapping on her text thread on my iPad, I reread her short response.
Lucy:
Nope! All good.
“Did she say she’s going to your parents’?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice casual.
He shakes his head without taking his eyes off the TV. “I don’t think so.”
I don’t either, but it’s getting late. She sent me that text three hours ago, and it’s been radio silence since. She hasn’t mentioned seeing anyone else while she’s here. No old friends from high school she’s trying to connect with from what I can tell. The only person she’s hung out with outside of her immediate family was me.
Well, me and Troy.
Please don’t let her get a ride home from Troy. I can’t say I’ve ever tried to imagine what Troy does on his days off, but suddenly I can see him sitting at The Steamy Mug across from a beautiful blonde as she sips her hazelnut latte.
