Page 57 of Under My Skin
I rock back on my heels, my lips twisting. “Yes. I did see that.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “And?”
Looking from the patch of blue to him, I narrow my eyes playfully. “And it’s not my apartment. Do you like it?”
He takes a step back. “Yeah. I think I do.”
I grin. “I love it.” And I love that this isn’t awkward. I love that we’re able to slip back into normal conversation. Nothing is worse than hooking up with someone and then feeling like you can’t look them in the eye. But Everett is steady as he holds my gaze.
“Yeah?”
I stand next to him and give a sharp nod as I look at the color. “Definitely.”
“And the sex was great?”
When I look over, he’s still watching me intently. His hair is mussed from me pulling at it earlier, and his T-shirt is a wrinkled mess from lying on the floor, but that familiar calmness is back. The storm brewing behind his eyes has cleared, and as beautiful as he was when I walked in here, nothing beats Everett in the afterglow.
“Oh, don’t act surprised.” I look back at the wall in front of us. “You know it was.”
He steps in front of me, blocking my view. Before I can register what’s happening, he wraps my ponytail around his fist and gently pulls, forcing me to look up at him. “Yeah, but I like hearing you say it.” He keeps his grip tight and kisses me with so much feeling, my knees threaten to buckle. A soft moan escapes from the back of my throat, and when Everett’s tongue demands entrance, I gladly open for him. The kiss is dizzying, and by the time he pulls away, I have to blink a few times to regain focus.
“Come on,” he says as he brushes a thumb softly over my cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
EVERETT
Lucy hesitatesbefore following me toward the staircase. Her eyes land on a small box, still sitting on the floor under the window. “Do you want me to grab that?” she asks, suddenly looking less confident than she has all night.
“Sure,” I say, surprising myself. It’s just a box, mostly filled with scraps of paper, but I’ve become more protective of it than anything else I own. I usually leave it at my mom’s house, but after going there today, I needed to bring it here. I needed a small semblance of my dad in my future home, even if he’s been reduced to chicken scratch on slips of paper.
Lucy gingerly picks up the box, her hand resting firmly on the lid like she might be carrying the man’s actual ashes. “Stuff of your dad’s?” she asks as she gently hands it to me.
I nod and open the lid, shuffling through a few of the items. “Mostly old birthday cards and random reminders he’d leave for himself around the house.” I reach for one of the small sticky notes with his all-caps handwriting.
CALL JACOB
“I still have no idea who Jacob is.”
Lucy laughs, and the sound brings a smile out of me. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled while holding this box.
CHANGED OIL 6-23
I hold the note out for Lucy to see. “He had this next to where he kept the bike parked in the garage. At least I knew when to change the oil again.”
A soft smile pulls at her lips, followed by a pinch of her brows. “Wait, that’s his bike?” She points her thumb over her shoulder toward the alley down below.
“It was,” I say, relieved the past tense word doesn’t knock the wind out of me. “He’d probably have a few words about me leaving it outside all the time, but I like riding it. It makes me feel like I’m . . .” I glance at her, and she’s hanging onto my every word. “I don’t know,” I backtrack.
“It makes you feel closer to him?”
I nod.
“Then I think he’d love that.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I mutter, “Thanks.” I’m not used to talking about this with anyone, but it kind of feels good to talk about him. I think it helps that Lucy never knew my dad well. My memories can remain mine when I talk to her. She can’t add to them or give her two cents as far as how and why things happened. She just listens, and the fact that she doesn’t try to fix what I’m feeling makes it easier to feel this way in the first place.
“His keychain?” she asks as she picks up a worn leather tag with an embroidered M.
