“Clothes.” Briskly, she rubs her hands on her thighs and moves past me, heading for the bedroom. “You want to eat now? Or wait until after you shower?”
I stroll after her, hands shoved in my jeans pockets. “I can wait.”
She’s fluttering around, picking up a pair of socks from the floor, then heading for my bag as if she might soon put it away. Frowning, I ease myself between her and the bag.
“Pen. What’s wrong?”
The winged curves of her brows draw together. “Why, does something have to be wrong?”
Having some experience living with my mom and sisters, I feel like this might be a trap. That, or some kind of test that I’m failing. Because something’s definitely off, and she’s not telling me. Shifting my feet I debate the answer.
“No,” I say carefully. “I’m just really fucking happy to be home.”
“I’m happy you’re here too.” She says this as she deftly rolls the socks into a ball and chucks them toward the closets.
“Yeah, see, you don’t exactly appear happy right now.”
For a second, I swear her lower lip wobbles. But her chin wings up and she meets my gaze with those big dark eyes that usually shine but now look dull.
“Because not everyone expresses happiness the same way. In fact, not everyone has it in them to be happy at all times. Some of us have down times.”
“Some of us?” It comes out a choked laugh. What the fuck? Seriously, what is going on? I’ve never seen this side of her.
Maybe she’s hormonal.I immediately swat that idea aside. If she is, asking will get my balls crushed. That much I know.
“Are you suggesting I don’t have bad moods?” I say instead.
“No, yes.” She waves a hand in the air. “You know what pisses me off?”
“Not right now, no.” Hand to God, I’m fucking baffled at this point.
“You’re so happy!” It explodes out of her like an accusation.
I blink down at her, rooted to the spot by confusion. “My happiness pisses you off?”
“No! Yes! Argh!” Again she flings out her arms, and then starts to pace. “For twenty-odd years, I thought I knew who you were. But that August Luck was even-tempered and well-focused on his sport. He did not go around all happy-go-lucky. He didn’t smile at the drop of a hat!” At this she halts, putting the bed between us, and points a finger in my direction like I’m exhibit A. “So I have to conclude that I never truly saw you.”
She stands there, arms crossed, chest heaving. Sparks shinein her eyes, and I swear, even that turns me on. Or it would if I didn’t feel like I’ve just been blindsided and left on the proverbial ground.
I have no idea why she’s saying all this now, but it hurts. More than that, it pisses me off. “Boy, when you’re wrong, you just go all-out wrong, don’t you?”
“What?” Her shocked tone almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” I hold up a hand to count my so-called transgressions. “You’ve always viewed me a certain way, and it didn’t include this ‘happy’ me, and because of that, it’s yourconclusionthat I’ve been... What, hiding myself from you before? Is that it?”
“Well... I...” Her gaze darts away then back as if she’s valiantly trying to hold on to her moral ground. Not happening.
“Did it ever fucking occur to you that the reason you see me so happy now, the reason I smile, as you say, at the drop of a hat, is because of you!”
The shout echoes between us, and she flinches. And I don’t want to feel bad about that. Not now when anger and hurt pummel my gut.
“Seriously, Pen? Is this denial or delusion? Either way, you’re now pissingmeoff!” I run my hands through my hair. “How the hell can’t you see it?”
She frowns. Confused and flustered.
I throw out an imploring hand. “I fucking light up whenever you’re near. My ‘happiness’ is tied directly to you, and you refuse to see it!”
