“Is it as bad as she seems to think?”
I consider the letters she has hidden away in a drawer. Hate drips from every word. This man believes Brynn ruined his life. “Yeah.”
“Might be best to let her go then.”
I nod, looking back at the screen. He’s only saying things I’ve already told myself.
“World’s best sandwiches,” Brynn shouts from the kitchen. “Slap yo’ mama delicious.” She comes into the room holding three plates. She passes one to Walt and sits beside me with the other two. I’m not hungry, but something tells me I shouldn’t decline.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, passing a plate to me.
“Nothing,” I say, lying through my damn teeth.
“You look sad,” she says, biting into her sandwich and pulling it away. A string of cheese stays attached to her teeth, dropping limply as she bites through it.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. I wind an arm around her shoulders and pull her in close. “Everything is fine.”
17
Brynn
I probably shouldn’t have donethat just now, and by probably, I mean definitely.
It was irresponsible. It will put me back months if my parents don’t get a big catch this season.
But…
But…
But…
Connor will be happy.
He was melancholy when he left last night.He left. It’s the first time in weeks that we haven’t stayed together overnight. On the walk home from Walt’s, I asked him what was wrong. He told me he had a lot on his mind and then he kissed me goodnight and climbed in his truck.
He should be here any minute to drive us to the first job, and the truth is I missed him last night. Ten toes are half the amount I want in my bed. I’m already used to rolling over and reaching for his warm shoulder. This morning when I first woke up I forgot he wasn’t there, I reached for him and found only air.
Carefully I walk out front with my full cup of hot coffee and wait for him. Streams of sunlight drench the front porch in warmth. My coffee is only half gone when I see Conner’s truck rolling down the street. My heartbeats speed up, and I can’t blame the caffeine.
“Hey,” I say, hopping into the passenger seat.
“Guess what?” Connor’s eyes are bright.
“What?”
He drums a beat on his steering wheel for a few seconds. “I sold a painting this morning.” His grin is big and bright.
“Wow! Congrats. That’s amazing.” My loud claps bounce off the interior of the truck cab.
“Thanks.” He eases off the brake and drives away. “I checked my email just before I left my parents’ place.” He shakes his head, a slow grin easing onto his face. “I was beginning to think I might never sell another painting.”
“You’re too good for that.” It’s true, too. If I still had my connections in Phoenix, he’d be selling every last one of his pieces. I saw them all this morning on his website. Thank goodness he has a way to purchase straight from there, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. I used an old, nondescript email address on the order form. Bada-bing, bada-boom.
Across the console, he offers me his hand, and I slip my fingers through his. “We’re done after Old Lady Linton’s house this afternoon. Want to take a drive somewhere and celebrate?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Does your agreement dependent upon how good my idea is?”
