Page 78 of Wild Eyes
“Not maybe.”
“I never got into hard drugs the way Erika did, but I did my fair share of dumb shit when I was younger. Constantly in trouble for something. Sneaking out. Getting in fights. Crashing my car. Put my parents through the wringer in that regard. It struck me last night that it could easily have been me instead.”
He tosses a flake over the fence. “So maybe it was kind. And maybe it was out of guilt. Either way, it’s terrible. Her little boy—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just clicks his tongue and forges ahead with his work.
We finish the rest of the night check quietly. I get the sense West is secluded in his head tonight, and after the week I’ve had, I’ve realized that sometimes—as uncomfortable as it is—that’s exactly where we need to spend some time.
After we close up, we walk back to the house without saying a word. Just his boots thumping on the grass, my flip-flops making a slapping noise against my heels.
Though I sleep in the house nightly, I’ve made a point of not making myself at home. I spend my days at the bunkhouse, and West and I have been like ships passing in the night when it comes to spending time together inside.
He made it clear he wants to keep this space sacred for him and his kids. And I respect that.
I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, so when he hits the front steps, I break the silence. “I know Oliver and Emmy will be back tomorrow. I’ll move back to the bunkhouse in the morning.”
I don’t look up at him, but I can feel his eyes on me all the same.
“You’re welcome in the house. You don’t need to do that.”
“I do.”
“What about the mouse?”
I smile, finally braving a glance up at his handsome face. “I’ve seen him a few times now. He’s growing on me. I’ll be fine. It’s like exposure therapy.”
His responding chuckle is soft and warm, and I can hear the bristles of his stubble as he scrubs a hand over his chin. “Wherever you’re most comfortable.”
I nod and watch him turn and head toward the lake.
“Night, Skylar.”
“Where are you going?”
He stops, broad back to me as he stares off into the distance, like he can see the sparkling water through the stand of trees. The fabric of his pale-green T-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders.
And don’t even get me started on the gray wash jeans.
“I’m gonna take the canoe out.”
My brows drop. “In the dark?”
“Do it all the time when the kids are with Mia. It doesn’t feel that dark once your eyes adjust.”
The thought of West canoeing on a dark lake by himself tugs on my heartstrings. “Can I come?”
He turns to me, his expression betraying his surprise. “You wanna come canoeing in the dark with me?”
I don’t know why he seems surprised by the fact that I enjoy his company. I’m not. In fact, I’m at the point where I’m seeking it and not talking myself out of it.
I offer a simple nod and set off toward him. “I do. Is that okay?”
His throat works on a heavy swallow. “I’d love that.”
“There’s a song about this, you know.” I trail my fingertips in the water. It feels like they’re skating over the cold surface. It’s a still night, the only ripples coming from the oars that slice through the water with a reassuring regularity.
Steady and even.
Just like the man handling them.
