Page 64 of The Pocket Pair

A prickling, itching sensation claws its way up my spine. Because what Mari’s saying and yet not saying sounds a whole lot like she knows the deepest reason I have for making roommate rules with Val. For trying to keep her at arm’s length, at friend length, even if it’s getting harder and harder.

Which would mean … Mari knows about my dad.

Everything about my dad.

I can’t ask, because that would mean talking about it—about him. And I don’t want to ruin a perfectly nice day.

“Do you know that, Chevy?” she continues. “Do you know that you’re a good man? That no one else’s mistakes have to be yours?”

“Yes,” I whisper, working as hard as I can to keep my voice from wavering. It’s difficult when my heart is flailing around like a fish on land. I’m also not entirely sure I believe that single syllable I just uttered.

But I want to.

Her eyes narrow. “You’d better know it.” And then, like we didn’t just have an unexpectedly vulnerable moment, she goes back to sweeping. “Better get out there and help Val.”

I practically bolt from her house. And on the short walk to the detached garage, I do my level best to push the entire conversation from my mind. I keep trying to forget about my dad. And people keep bringing it up. Or my half-brother sends another letter like he did today. I can’t seem to escape him, and every reminder cuts me a little deeper. Mari may have been trying to reassure me—and she may have a point—but it was just one more reminder of my dad and of why I’m not pursuing Val.

Because, ultimately, I’m not concerned about my sister’s warning. She’d get over it. Maybe even learn to like it.

And I’m not worried about risking my friendship with Val. Or, anyway, I think it would be a worthy risk.

It all comes down to me feeling like my father’s actions have stained me somehow. That his unfaithfulness hums in my blood.

Pausing just outside the open doors, I lean my head against the siding and try to just breathe. It’s funny how all those involuntary things your body does on its own all the time without you thinking about it can suddenly become ALL you think about. And then, they’re no longer involuntary. If I were to stop focusing on taking deep breaths right now, I’m pretty sure my lungs wouldn’t be doing their thing. Which only makes breathing harder.

You’re fine. Everything is fine. And in a few weeks, Val will be gone. You won’t have to worry about who you are or aren’t or whether it was the best or worst idea in the world to have her come live with you. BREATHE.

I’m not sure how long I stand there, forcing oxygen in and out slowly, but the sound of Val singing to herself as she moves around inside the building brings the world back into focus. I don’t think I realized it was out of focus. But the sound of her voice—which is slightly off-key and of course, she’s singing some horrible pop song—has my heartbeat steadying and my breathing returning to something I don’t need to regulate myself.

By the time I walk into Val’s studio to find her taping boxes shut, still singing her bubblegum pop, I’m smiling. I’d bet it almost looks normal. And I’ve locked up all thoughts I can’t handle right now in the dark recesses of my brain.

“Is that a Justin Bieber song?” I ask.

Val startles, whirling to face me and tipping over a box of brushes in the process. “Jeez, Chev. Give a girl a heart attack!”

I quickly bend and pick up the scattered brushes, shooing her away with my hand when she tries to help. “I’ve got it. Sorry I scared you.”

“I thought you were still inside with Mari. I didn’t expect you to creep up on me like some kind of silent ninja.”

“Do you need me to wear bells?” I ask. “I feel like that’s one of those things people in books are always suggesting.”

Val gives me a funny look. “What kind of books are you reading?”

Romance novels, though I’m not admitting that out loud. What can I say? Winnie got me hooked. And rather than checking them out at the library, where someone’s liable to post on Neighborly about a town deputy reading bodice rippers, I’ve been reading with the Kindle app on my phone. Nice and discrete. No drama here. Also, it means I don’t have to answer to my sister, who would find some way to turn this back around on me.

Before I can make up an answer, Val tips the brim of my cowboy hat. “Yeah, maybe you should sew some bells on here. It would be like a cowboy Christmas all year round.”

We both realize at the same time how close we’re standing. Val drops her hand from my hat but doesn’t step back. Neither do I. And there goes my heart again—doubling its speed as I stand here, my gaze locked with Val’s big brown eyes.

No one else’s mistakes have to be yours.

Mari’s words linger in my mind like wisps of smoke. I want to shove that thought away, but is it possible that she’s right?

Val blinks, and I take a step back. A big one. “I’ll get right on the bells,” I tell her. “Right after we finish this.” I glance around, forcing myself not to look at Val. “Where can I start? And is there a particular way to handle the paintings? The last thing I want to do is ruin something you made.”

“Boxes on the bottom. We can secure the paintings on top.” Val starts to lift the box in front of her, and I snatch it.

“Nope. I’m the muscle today. You’re the mouth. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

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