Page 17 of Spyder
“Right. Of course,” I say and clear my throat.
My throat is dry, my palms are damp, and I can’t quell the maelstrom churning in my gut. I’m sure I look every inch the idiot I feel like right now and want to kick my own ass because of it.
“So, how have you been?” I ask.
“Good. I’m doing well,” she stammers. “Thanks for asking. And you?”
I nod. “I’m good, thanks. Really good.”
“I heard you joined the military?”
“Yeah. Marines. I was a Marine,” I tell her.
She shuffles her feet. “That must have been really tough. I mean, with everything happening overseas and all.”
I shrug. “I wasn’t in the middle of that, to be honest. I was stationed in Germany pretty much the whole time I was over there.”
She nods. “Oh. That’s good then. Really good. I’m glad you weren’t in danger.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say with a nervous chuckle.
We stand there in silence for a long moment, the awkward strain as thick as the moisture in the air around us. A small smile flickers across my lips and I shake my head. I’m not a high school kid anymore even though she’s got me feeling like one. I’m a man now. So, I do my best to stuff down all those ridiculous insecurities and clumsy unease that’s gripping me tight and try to behave like one.
“What are you doing back in town?” I ask. “Last I heard, you put Blue Rock in the rearview and weren’t coming back.”
A shadow passes across her face and a flash of sadness crosses her features. But she quickly composes herself, though her lips are still compressed into a tight line.
“It’s my mom. She’s… sick,” she says softly.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, genuinely meaning it. “I didn’t know. Is it serious?”
She nods and I can see her eyes starting to glisten with tears, and I want to kick myself again. I realize now what a stupid and insensitive question that was. And how obvious the answer is. I’ve never been good at small talk to begin with. But when it came to Bellamy, I was even worse than normal. Whenever I was around her, I felt tongue-tied, and like anything I said was stupid. It’s not because of anything she ever did or said, but whenever I was around her, I felt like a horribly inadequate moron.
“Sorry,” I say. “You wouldn’t have uprooted yourself and moved back here if it weren’t. That was a pretty idiotic thing to say.”
She shakes her head and bites back her tears. “No, it’s all right. It wasn’t stupid.”
A wry laugh bursts from my mouth. “Yeah, it was pretty stupid.”
Finally, a genuine smile touches her lips, albeit a small one. “Okay, it was kind of stupid.”
We share a quiet laugh and it somehow lessens the tension in the air between us, if only a little bit.
“She has ovarian cancer. Stage four. It’s… terminal,” she says softly. “I wanted to come back to be with her for whatever time we have left together.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Bellamy. Really sorry.”
“Thanks,” she replies. “It’s just one of those shitty things life sometimes throws at us to keep us on our toes, I guess.”
I frown and shuffle my feet, feeling uncomfortable, not to mention like a total asshole for bringing up something so emotional and painful. When Domino told me he’d run into her, like her, I figured it was only a matter of time before I did, too. And I’d hoped it would be lighthearted and fun. I certainly hadn’t expected it to be so dark and traumatic.
“So,” she says, looking pointedly at my kutte. “You’re a biker now, huh?”
I laugh softly. “Seemed the next logical step after rotating out of the Corps. I don’t think I’m really cut out for the nine-to-five white collar sort of gig.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s never really been your style.”
“Definitely not.”
