We had been down there for almost an hour when Dex finally broke the silence.
“You look terrible,” he said as he tightened a screw with a drill.
“I look normal,” I replied, hoping he would drop the subject.
“You look like someone stole your lunch,” he persisted.
William didn't comment, but he glanced at me over the edge of his glasses before marking the next board. He had that expression fathers used when waiting for one of their children to confess something.
“I’m fine,” I resolutely told them.
“You are absolutely not,” Dex replied. “You sighed eight times on the way down the stairs. You aren’t concentrating and you’ve only been good forbasic tasks.”
“I didn't count the sighs, but it was more than usual.” William continued to use his measuring tape, not even looking up.
I adjusted the brace I held. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
Dex scoffed. “Right. And I am training for a ballet recital.”
I kept my focus on the board, hoping if I ignored him long enough he would move on. But Dex could out-wait a statue when he wanted information.
“This is about Jane,” he decided.
I tightened the clamp. “No.”
“Yes,” he said in the most confident tone a human being had ever used. Sometimes my friend was absolutely infuriating.
William tapped his pencil against the length of wood he was measuring. “You may as well tell us. Dex isn’t going to stop discussing the subject.”
“I could stop,” Dex offered. “But I will not.”
I sighed. Loudly. This one even echoed off the stone walls. “There was something this morning, in the kitchen.”
Dex immediately set down his drill as though this required his full attention. He was listening fully now.
William paused mid-measurement, the pencil hovering.
I continued slowly. “James was talking to Jane. He was standing close to her and she was standing close to him.”
Dex frowned. “Just how close?”
I steadied the brace again. “Too close. Definitely within each others’ personal space.”
He waited.
“She wasn't pushing him away,” I finally said the part that was bothering me the most. “Not that I could see.”
“Because she is polite,” Dex remarked, giving me an excuse. “Maybe she just didn’t want to be rude to the guy.”
“He was flirting with her. He had his hand on her cheek,” I revealed.
Dex made a quiet noise that suggested he would enjoy pushing James into the nearest snowbank.
“And what bothered me was that she didn't look unhappy with it.” The hollow feeling I had earlier returned in full force. The fact that she hadn’t seemed to want to reject James’ advances at all had sat like a stone in my stomach all morning. I had replayed the scene more times than I wanted to admit. The stillness. The way she stood near the counter. The way she didn't step back. The private moment between the pair that I had obviously intruded on.
Dex wiped his hands on his jeans. “Jane not pushing someone away is not evidence of interest. Maybe something else happened. Maybe you should ask her.”
“I was there and she could have said something, anything to indicate that she didn’t want him touching her, but she didn’t,” I replied woodenly. I lifted the next brace, but my hands were not quite steady. “That’s not the only thing. Yesterday, James told me about their past.”
