Page 18 of The Run Home
Shae snorted so loudly I wondered if she’d given herself a sinus infection. The peals of laughter kept coming, so I stood upand helped myself to the freezer where I found an ice pack. I placed in on my forehead and winced as the bitter cold made the bruise feel even worse. Shae’s laugher finally wound down and she sat up. She glanced at me with an ice pack on my head and burst out laughing yet again. It took at least five minutes for her to finally get it under control. Meanwhile, I tended to my own wound and began to search plumbing DIY videos on my phone.
“Maybe it’s your water supply line,” I finally said. Shae wiped her face and stood up, coming up next to me to watch the video.
“Huh. Maybe.” She got back on the floor and scooted under the sink to check it out. “Well, shoot. Looks like it was the valve on the water supply line.”
I let out a silent breath of relief. Maybe I didn’t know how to use a wrench, but I could use a smartphone as a tool. A few cranks of the wrench and Shae had the sink underparts put back together. She crawled back out, not meeting my gaze.
“I’ll have to get a new valve tomorrow. Um, thanks.”
I smirked. “Did that hurt?”
Shae turned to me. “No, I didn’t hit my head or anything.”
I pushed off the counter where I’d been leaning, leaving the now thawed ice pack behind. “No, I meant saying thanks.”
Shae rolled her eyes, looking so much like Kinsley it made me have to bite back a smile. “I give credit where credit is due.”
“Same. Which is why I came over. I wanted to thank you for adding Kinsley to the team. It’s all she’s talking about.” I stooped to pick up my soaked shirt off the floor. “It’s good to see her smile again.”
Shae followed behind me as I walked to the front door. I stopped at the small wall before the door, pointing to an old family picture of the Fletchers. “How are your parents, by the way? I haven’t seen them.”
Shae’s eyes lost every sparkle I’d seen in them as she laughed earlier. “They passed away years ago.”
Well, fuck. I didn’t remember Mom telling me about that, but then again, did I ever really listen over the years when she was gossiping about Blueball matters?
“I’m sorry, Shae.” My hand shot out to her arm, her skin soft and cool under my touch. Grief from my own father passing was all too quick to rise to the surface. Being busy had done a good job on keeping me distracted from the pain. “My dad dying gutted me in a way I’ve been able to avoid until coming back home. I’m sure living here in the home you grew up in is both hard and healing.”
Shae leaned into my touch, all that spirit she threw in my face on the daily instantly gone. The air crackled with some kind of commiserating energy. A shared acknowledgement of grief. “Yeah. It’s both of those things.”
Her gaze stayed on mine, both of us silent as we thought about our losses. There wasn’t much we had in common, but the death of a parent—or both in her case—was a fairly big one. The pain in her eyes matched the pain I felt on the daily walking by the chair that Dad had always occupied when I came home for a visit. I hadn’t even known she’d lost her parents. Maybe if I had, I might have been nicer to her since I came back to Blueball.
My grip on her arm tightened and I started to draw her into my chest for a hug. She melted into me, just an inch of space between us when she suddenly stiffened and jerked back. Her eyes widened, and I let her arm go. What the hell was I thinking?
We didn’t hug. We fought. That’s the only dynamic that worked here. I needed to get us back on familiar ground. Quick.
I pointed to her shorts plastered to her lush thighs. “Looks like you peed yourself, wiz.”
Shae didn’t miss a beat. She pointed at my bare chest. “Looks like you’ve already lost muscle since retiring.”
I frowned, looking down at my chest.
Her cackle had my head popping back up. I narrowed my eyes and saw myself out without another word. I had a blooming headache and a feeling the egg on my forehead would still be there tomorrow when I had to face a classroom full of teens.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Shae
Arriving earlyto first period Monday morning only happened because I’d tossed and turned all night, waking up before my alarm. My brain couldn’t get past the vision of Boon’s hand on me, his broad chest coming closer as he pulled me in…for a hug? To smack my forehead so it had a matching goose egg? I couldn’t seem to decipher what was happening in that moment. And boy, was it a moment.
I’ve seen the movies, read the books, heard my friends describe thatmomentwhen the energy is palpable and there’s a blatant connection with a man. I’d just never experienced it before. Until now.
My tote bag slid off my shoulder and down to the ground behind my desk. I sank into the chair and took a moment to take a steadying breath. I couldn’t be havingmomentswith Boon Wolfe. He shouldn’t be making me say the wordmomentin my head with italics and quotes around it. He and I had no moments. We had fighting. And eye rolls. And years of hatred between us.
That settled, I pulled out the stack of tests I didn’t finish last night because I’d been too preoccupied with running through that…time period (I refused to say the word again)…when Boon was over. As I got my focus together and began to grade, I even managed a chuckle over the spray of water and him smacking his head. I really shouldn’t laugh at someone getting hurt, but it was funny as hell to see the smooth man bobble so badly.
“Morning, Coach!”
I lifted my head to see Kinsley standing in my doorway. She had a shy smile on her pretty face, which was far better than the terror poorly disguised with chaotic courage I’d seen in her expression for those first two days at Blueball High.
