I strip out of my shorts and T-shirt and the bikini under it, but just as I’ve stepped into the tub, Elijah bursts through the entrance.
And stares.
I sink into the water as fast as I can, but he still saw everything. Far more than he even saw the night we hooked up.
“I, uh—” He blinks. “I didn’t know this would be so, um, public.” He turns away, facing the wall.
“You raced through that door like the house was on fire,” I say, pressing a hand to my flushing cheeks. “Though obviously your grandmother would have encouraged you to just let us burn to death, were that the case.”
“I was worried you’d fall asleep because you’ve been so tired lately,” he says. “Can you swear to me you’ll stay awake if I’m not here to watch you?”
“Betty’s here,” I say, gesturing toward the wall where Betty is currently watering her potted palms. “I’m sure she’d wake me up.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets as if he remains unconvinced.
“Aww,” I tease. “Elijah cares just a wittle bit after all.”
He glances back over his shoulder, his gaze falling to the bubbles, to the upper curve of my breasts floating at the water’s surface, and he turns away fast, reaching for the door.
He didn’t deny it. And naïve as it is, I’m starting to wonder if it’s true.
18
ELIJAH
Jesus Christ. On the long list of things I didn’t need to see, that was probably at the top. Easton, sliding her lean body into the tub, her rose-tipped breasts puckered tight from the cool breeze. Easton, revealing parts of her I’d never seen before and parts of her I thoroughly defiled once upon a time and...God, that image is gonna burn itself into my brain.
I retreat to the front porch and slump into the rocking chair beside my grandmother.
“How’s thebath?” my grandmother asks. She isn’t concealing her fury, but when does she ever?
“You know, if you hadn’t insisted on staying, none of this would be happening.”
She clicks her tongue in disagreement. “Yes, it would. Betty is hell-bent on helping Easton, for reasons that escape me. She’d be doing some version of this no matter where we were. And I cannotbelieveyou snapped at me last night.”
“I can’t believe the shit you’ve said to Easton. She’s never done anything to you.”
“She just said I needed a muzzle!”
I raise a brow because, well, Easton sort of had a point.
After a moment, my grandmother shrugs. “Look at the family she’s come from. You think anything I’m saying pierces her armor? She’s tough as nails, that girl.”
Sheistough as nails. And I also think there are things that pierce her armor. In particular, anything that implies she’s wrong somehow—bad, less than. Easton has spent her entire life figuring out the world and how to move up in it, and sure, she’s smart as hell, but she’s also constantly listening and learning, getting cues from the behavior of others. Even now, after all this time, I see it in social situations: a one-second lag where she’s watching to see what everyone else does first and then racing to catch up.
But I don’t want to tell my grandmother this because it’d be handing her the keys to the castle: every comment for the rest of the week would be a devastating hit to Easton’s sense of self, preying upon that particular insecurity.
“Grandma, seriously...what’s your problem with her? I understood when she was small, even though it was wildly unfair, but she’s got almost no relationship with her family now.”
Grandma rocks aggressively in her chair. “And does a girl who has no relationship with her family seem like someone who has her head on straight?”
“When it’sherfamily, then yes. And you know it. You know you’re being unfair, and honestly? It’s beneath you. You’re better than this—than traumatizing a kid sixty years younger than you.”
“A kid with a PhD? I’m sure she’ll be just fine. I didn’t even get to go to college.”
“So is that it? You’re jealous?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps, and then her shoulders curve as she sinks into her seat.
