Ginger must have picked this one up at a rummage sale. I chuckle and flip to chapter one.
“What are you doing with that?” Brynn’s voice is hard.
I look up. She’s standing at the opening to the hallway, wearing a white tank top and bright yellow shorts. If I’d only heard her voice, I would’ve thought she was angry, but seeing her face, I know what she really feels is panic.
“Nothing.” I toss the book on the table with too much force, and it skids off like a rock skipping across water.
Why does Brynn look like that? Is this her book? Why is it addressed to Elizabeth?
She grabs the book from the floor, fingers curling around the spine. She grips it so hard her nail beds become white.
“Ginger is a funny lady. Yard sales are her favorite.” I stand and point to the book. “She probably picked that up from someone who had a daughter home from college.”
“Right,” Brynn says, her voice shaking.
“Are you ready?” I ask, trying hard to sound normal.
“Umm hmm.” Brynn walks into the kitchen and grabs her purse. When she comes back, the book is gone.
“Plain white shirt?” I ask, trying to thin out the thick air.
“I wasn’t sure what to wear to meet your parents. Most of my shirts have something snarky or a cuss word.”
“An accurate reflection of your personality,” I say, teasing her. Brynn offers a stiff, perfunctory smile.
“Hey.” I reach for her. She lets me pull her closer, but even against my chest, she’s rigid. “What’s wrong? Is this about yesterday?”
She shakes her head. “No. Maybe.” A strangled sound comes from her. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that yesterday. We can’t do that again. It’s going to mess things up.”
“What is there to mess up?”
Brynn steps back from me. Her face is sad. “Can we stop talking about this, please? I can’t handle it right now.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I turn, leading the way to the front door and opening it. Brynn locks the door, and I climb into my truck. Cassidy is out front, putting Brooklyn in the car. We exchange a wave, and I see her say hello to Brynn.
Brynn’s response is lukewarm. A halfhearted wave, a poor excuse for a smile. Cassidy is the nicest, most trusting person I’ve ever met, and I bet she wants nothing more than to be friends with Brynn.
Join the club, Cassidy.
We work the rest of the day in awkward quiet. If unspoken thoughts were pieces of furniture, they’d be lying haphazardly between us, and I’d trip over every single one. What’s more annoying is that things were fine this morning, until she saw me with that book. Whatever sent Brynn into a tailspin has to do with that.
Or maybe it’s this mystery person.
Elizabeth.
* * *
I’m notsure how she’s going to act this evening.
She’s been tense all day. She dropped a wrench two inches from my toe. She helped me install a garbage disposal, if helping really means sticking your head under a sink and barely moving.
We’ve finished up at the last house, and we’re headed to my parents’ place. Her nails click a rhythm as she drums her fingers on the armrest of the door.
“Doing okay over there?” I throw out the question becauseoh my godit’s weird in here. It’s killing me.
The worst part is that now I know a different side of her and I can’t stop thinking about that. She makes little pleased sounds in the back of her throat when I kiss the soft skin just behind her earlobe, and I’d give anything to hear that again. She tastes like rays of sunshine and cherries and peppermint, and basically everything I’ve ever tasted and liked.
She’s so beautiful, and she wears her hurt right out in front of her. I want to assemble the hurt into a ball and throw it off a cliff, but I can’t do any of that because she won’t let me into her space. Not literally, and definitely not figuratively.
