Page 88 of The Space Between
I’m wearing cutoff shorts, the tank top from last night, and flip-flops that keep catching on the gravel. I don’t care. I walkdown the winding road toward the shop, my pulse tapping like a warning against my throat with each step.
When I round the curve, the lot is mostly empty except for a few trucks and the open trailer full of tubes.
I spot him immediately.
He’s shirtless. His tanned, scarred skin is glinting with sweat as the sun’s relentless rays hit him. His dark hair is falling into his eyes as he stands on the edge of the boat ramp, waving in the heat. He’s barking orders at Reece and two teenage boys while dragging tubes out of the river.
He personifies everything I’ve been trying not to need.
The dark circles under his eyes give away the fact that he didn’t sleep again last night.
I grip the hem of my shorts as I stare at him.
He doesn’t see me right away, but Reece does. He lifts a hand, gives me a sharp nod, then he says something I can’t hear from this distance.
Gruene turns and the second his eyes hit mine, the worldstills.His whole body shifts. He drops the rope he’s holding, straightens, and takes a step forward like he’s not even thinking. He takes another, and then, another.
He’s standing in front of me.
He doesn’t say a word as he reaches out, slides his hand behind my neck, and presses his forehead to mine. His breath is warm where it bounces off my lips. His skin is damp where it’s touching mine. His voice, when it comes, is sandpaper and sky. “Everything okay?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He exhales hard as I let my fingers skim his jaw. My thumb brushes the line of stubble that’s grown in heavier today. “I didn’t say anything last night,” I whisper. “I should’ve. But I didn’t know how… or what to say.”
His eyes are locked on mine. “You didn’t have to.” He replies.
“But I wanted to.” I can’t stop myself from whispering. His hands are still on my neck and he’s so close to me, I forget that we’re in the lot of the shop in full view of Reece, the workers, and any tubers.
“You let me stay,” he grunts.
My heart races.
I’m in so deep with him.
“Come on,” he says after a beat, he glances around, realizing we’re out in the open, in full view of anyone who wants to look our way. “You shouldn’t be out in this heat. It’s over a hundred today.”
I chuckle. “It’s pretty damn hot. It almost punches you in the face. But I wanted to see you.”
His eyes flick to mine, and he almost grins, almost. “Yeah?”
I nod and he steps aside, gesturing to the shop. “Then, come inside.”
He pours cold water from a pitcher in the fridge into a mason jar and sets it in front of me like it’s a peace offering.
We sit at the desk in the back of the shop, the fan overhead ticking loud and lazy.
He leans back in the old office chair with his legs spread. One hand runs up and down the back of his neck like he doesn’t know what to do with himself while I perch on the edge of the side of the desk.
“You look tired,” I say softly.
“I am.” he grunts.
“You didn’t sleep?” I ask.
He hesitates before he shakes his head. “No. I rarely do, Blakelyn. You know that.”
Inhaling, I ask, “Because of me… or because of… them?”
