Brynn arrives beside me and thanks me for lunch. We say goodbye to Mary and head for my truck.
Mary called Brynn nice.
Nice Brynn put her hand on mine and let me tell her all about my dad.
I really like nice Brynn.
I hope she goes back to being mean Brynn soon.
5
Brynn
That was close.
What the hell was I thinking?
It’s him.
Connor Vale.
Extensive knowledge about the inner and outer workings of a home, and now I’ve learned his painting skills were honed by a canvas, not a wall.
Today I watched his hands. I couldn’t help it. He touched me with them. Twice. And I touched him once when he was talking about his dad. I snatched my hand back as soon as I realized I’d done it.
Our afternoon job consisted of rehanging an in-cabinet garbage can. It sounded ridiculous to me at first, but Connor explained that the garbage can places too much weight on the brackets and that’s why they were bent. He suggested a whole new system where the can rolls on gliders installed on the bottom of the cabinet, and the homeowner agreed. We went to the hardware store for the pieces that weren’t in one of the built-in toolboxes in the bed of his truck, and the whole time he was showing me what to do, I watched his hands.
He has strong, deft fingers, certain of their movements. Capable. The skin on his palm, just below the start of his fingers, is slightly hardened. Callused, I guess, but not in the way I’ve always thought callused hands would be.
His hands are where I focused my fixation, because I cannot afford to have my gaze travel anywhere else. It was hard enough to sit across from him at lunch. Holding his gaze when I wanted to hide my face? That took strength. There’s one surefire way to make him look away from me, but then he would know about my past, and that’s completely off-limits. It’s a good reminder to keep my head down, make as much money as I can until fishing season comes to Mexico and my parents can make enough to help me get out of the country.
As much as I don’t want to be, I’m intrigued by Connor. A man who takes over his family business, even though he is good at the same thing he happens to be passionate about? He’s a genuinely good person. Of course, I already knew that. I did step out in front of his truck and he hasn’t said a word to me about it.
It’s still dented. I noticed it but didn’t say anything. I don’t have the money to pay for it right now anyway. I’ll have to ask him about it soon. I have no idea how much something like that will cost.
What a way to start my temporary life in Brighton.
I’ve managed to cause an accident, get a job doing something I know zilch about, and anger an old man. On the plus side, Cassidy said hi to me when I was out front watering Ginger’s flowers, so I guess my first impression didn’t terrify her too much. I said hello and nodded, still not sure how friendly I should be. Friendliness comes naturally to me, and snuffing it out takes work. I was voted friendliest person and nicest smile in high school, something Connor would probably never believe. It’s also how I got my old job. Club-promoters don’t scowl.
It’s funny what tragedy will do to a person. The smiles it will rob you of, both present and future. The present smiles can’t be summoned, and future ones never surface for fear of perceived happiness.How dare I be happy?
One of his letters said exactly that. I know he hates me, but I don’t think he understands how much I hate myself.
* * *
I’ve made too much.
I wasn’t paying attention, and I poured the entire package of noodles into the boiling water. I could save it and eat it again tomorrow night, but I don’t want to. I want the company of another person. Someone else’s thoughts, the sound of their breathing, simply existing nearby me.
Cassidy comes to mind first, because she’s closest. But, no. I can’t deal with Brooklyn.
Definitely not Connor. There’s only one person left.
He opens the door as I’m walking up. “What do you want?” Walt grunts.
“World peace. The end of child hunger. I could really go for a sea salt brownie if you have one.”
He makes an undistinguishable sound and waves a hand at me.
