Page 61 of From the Wreckage
Dad laughs at something the salesman says, oblivious. And I force myself to step back before I do something reckless, my pulse still thrumming with the memory of his touch.
No matter how much I try to act normal, my body gives me away. Heated cheeks, fingers twisting the hem of my shorts, every nerve alive and screaming the truth.
I’m stuck between the two most important men in my life.
One is my dad.
The other is the dark-haired secret I can’t stop falling for.
Dad’sstill buzzing as the salesman finishes the paperwork, his smile wide as he talks about how sleek the boat is. I nod in the right places, but most of my focus is on Everett. He’s keeping his distance now, as if my whispered confession back on the dock burned us both.
We pile back into the truck, the new trailer rattling softly behind us, the boat strapped to it. Dad is beside me, flipping through the owner’s manual, already absorbed. And I’m in the middle—again.
I tell myself not to react, even as my skin hums. But my body betrays me the second Everett’s thigh presses against mine, the faintest touch of denim against my bare skin. My breath catches. He doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
Dad’s voice fills the cab, cheerful and oblivious. “We still taking her out this weekend?”
Everett nods, keeping his eyes on the road.
“You need to join us, kiddo. It’ll be just like old times.”
“Dad,” I groan, tugging at my seatbelt like it might strangle me. “You’re acting like I’m still ten.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll thank me one day.”
“I’ll come... if Everett’s okay with it?”
I glance at Everett. His jaw is tight, sunglasses shield his eyes, and his hands grip the wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
He gives a nonchalant shrug, turning his head toward me. “You’re always welcome, Bri.”
Bri.The nickname sounds odd. I prefer angel... even though I know he can’t say it. Not in front of Dad.
When Dad brings up the best fishing spots on the lake, Everett’s voice is steady when he converses with him. Through his sunglasses, his eyes move to mine, then to my bare thigh beside his, before going back to the road. His hand flexes on the gearshift, and his leg tenses against mine.
By the time we turn down our lane, my pulse is thrumming. Dad’s still chattering, suggesting things Everett should buy for the boat, already making plans for a Saturday I know Everett and I will both dread for different reasons.
The truck rolls to a stop in Dad’s driveway. He hops out, calling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna look at the brochure the salesman gave me. I should buy a new boat.” He’s so excited, he throws a wave over his shoulder, clutching the pamphlet as he bounds up the steps. He heads inside without a backward glance.
I linger a second longer, my hand pressed to the seat between us. Everett shifts just enough that his pinky brushes mine. Even though he only grazes me, it feels like a brand.
“Guess I better get inside.” I look over at him, aching to stay with him.
“Yeah, you better.” His voice is low and gruff. He turns his head away as though he doesn’t trust himself around me.
I slip out before I can do something reckless, my body still buzzing.
As I head up the stairs, my legs like concrete, Everett’s low rasp whispers like a broken record inside my head. “Angel, you’ve got no idea.”
And he’s right.
Because if this keeps up, I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.
CHAPTER 42
Everett
I slamthe door of my cabin behind me, the sound ricocheting through the silence like a gunshot. My boots feel too heavy, my chest too tight, and my mind won’t stop replaying every goddamn second of that drive home.
