Saint steps over to the dresser, letting out a small chuckle as he does. “Good thing he builds houses better than he hangs up curtains.” His arms reach up causing his muscles to strain against the fabric of his shirt. I can’t help but look as his clothing rises above his waist, allowing about an inch of skin to reveal itself. More ink decorates what I can see of his back and I bite my tongue when the urge to ask to see them overcomes me.
He tugs on the metal a few times, checking to see how strong the hole is. Without a word, he flips around and heads back into the living room. I stand there like an idiot frozen in place until I hear the front door open.Is he leaving?Annoyance fills me as I peak out of the window. “Didn’t think you gave up that easily,” I mumble to myself as I watch Saint pull the door on his truck open.
My eyes roll as I step away from the glass and start to head towards the living room. My wallet is in the kitchen and it looks like I’ll be making my way over to the hardware store. It’ll be easier to just buy a new drill rather than attempting to go through everything to find ours. Dad has always had such a badhabit of placing things in the most peculiar places, even before he became a drunk. That habit only got worse once he met the bottle.
After gathering up my items and snagging an old umbrella I swing the front door open, ready to head through town. My eyes initially fall onto mom’s car. While I’m legally able to drive, the idea of getting behind the wheel fills me with fear. Being driven around by an angry man under the influence for most of your life will do that. It’s never been my driving that I’m worried about, but knowing that there are others like my father out on the road has been enough for me to avoid cars whenever I can.
My attention gets pulled away from the red vehicle as Saint’s truck beeps twice, the headlights flashing me obnoxiously. He rushes back over to the door, giving me a confused look as he does so.
“Nova, where are you going?” He questions as he ducks past me and into the dry home. I don’t move but I hear a grunt leave him as he tugs off his now muddy boots. “Hello?”
“I…” I trail off as I finally take him in. The only difference between now and when he went to the vehicle is that he’s now holding a drill. “I thought you were leaving.”
Saints body slows to a stop, his back facing me. “Not everyone just leaves when things get hard.”
A painful lump begins to bloom at the base of my throat, nervousness and hurt dancing together to create a heavy circle that settles in my chest. His words coat my skin with an icy cold temperature as I stand before him. Before I have the chance to process it any further, his heavy steps begin to lead him towards mom’s room. I watch as his figure disappears through the doorway. For the first time since I’ve been back home I take a moment to put myself in his shoes. We had been best friends, but he had other friends and his mom. I didn’t leave him alone.Did I hurt him?
The idea of harming the little boy I had left behind swallows me whole. Saint had been the kindest soul I had ever come across. Truly a “take the shirt off of my back” kind of guy. I’d spent all my time around him trying to figure out what had changed, missing the fact that I might have been the reason. I never wanted him to get caught in the crossfire. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it.
My self loathing thoughts continue to fester as I bite the inside of my cheek. My canine digs in deep enough to draw blood, but I’m so lost in myself I can barely register the pain.
Tears begin to coat my waterline as the sound of the drill pulls me out of my head. The noise vibrates against the cheap walls, causing it to echo throughout the trailer.
“Baby?” Mom’s voice pulls my attention from the doorway to her. She’s sitting fully up now, her messy hair sticking out every which way. “You okay?”
I quickly shake my head, attempting to erase the lingering voices, before responding. “Yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” I feel the corner of my lips pull up into a performative smile. One I’ve practiced time and time again. “Did you sleep alright?”
Her eyebrows scrunch together as she tries to register what I’m saying. Between the fog that comes from waking up and the noise, I can’t blame her. Quickly, I make my way over to the couch, sitting down next to her.
“Saint’s here.” I start off, helping to ground her mind in the present. “He’s fixing the curtain rod.”
She nods her head before taking me in. “Where are you going?” She questions, raising a curious eyebrow at me.
Embarrassment at my actions drips back into me, coating my cheeks in a warm red. “I was going-“
“She was going to come hang out with Jackson and I, if that’s okay Mrs. Harper?” Saint finishes off my sentence, standing inthe doorway with a kind smile. His eyes don’t leave my moms and I know we both see the excitement that enters her.
She turns back to me and I give her a genuine happy face, though not for the reason she thinks. I’m just grateful I didn’t have to explain how much of an asshole her daughter has turned into. Looking past her shoulder, my eyes catch onto Saints. An indescribable emotion flickers through his pretty blue eyes.
“Oh! Of course!” Mom squeals, squeezing onto my thigh. “Gives me a good excuse to rest for the remainder of the day!” She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth, doing her best to hide the grin that threatens to take over.
Saint walks in front of us, stopping right in between mom and I. He sticks out his hand as though he’s waiting for me to take it. The idea of touching him feels foreign,wrong.Yet every second that passes by feels like an eternity, and the awkwardness of just sitting here can’t be any worse than just taking his hand.Right?
Wrong! wrong! wrong!My brain screams as his calloused hand glides against my palm, gently pulling to bring me up from the couch. His touchhurts.Not physically, but mentally. Growing up, his warm hugs and gentle caresses were my safe haven. The memories of his comfort flood through me as I attempt to steady myself. I follow the length of his arm, up to his neck, and don’t stop until I’m staring right at him. He pulls his lips in, giving me an almost sympathetic glance. I swallow a nervous gulp before finally realizing our hands are still interconnected.
I yank mine away, rubbing the feeling of him off on my shirt. “Are you ready?” I ask abruptly, desperate to get out of this situation.
“Yup.” His reply comes out short as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The rod is sitting on your bed,” Saint starts off turning towards my mom. “I tried to not damage thewall more than what was already done. But if you’d like, I can come by sometime this week to patch it up.”
Mom stands up before making her way over to Saint on the other side of the coffee table. She pulls him into a warm hug, one he seems glad to return. “Thank you Saint. Let me know when and I’ll have some of those muffins you and Abby like ready to go.” The mention of her name leaves me feeling guilty, although I’m not sure why. All I had done was grab his hand.That doesn’t make me a bad friend, right?
I wonder if he feels it too. Especially with how his gaze drops to the ground. “Sounds good, Mrs. Harper.” Without another word, he turns and heads towards the door, leaving me no choice but to follow behind him.
We make our way to the truck, getting drenched in the process. The unforgiving, dark sky looms above us, pelting us with raindrops the size of nickels. With haste, we finish the trek over, both scurrying into the vehicle. Saint immediately turns over the engine, the lights along the dash coming to life. The familiar scent trickles into my nose, easing some of the tension that had been building in my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I whisper quietly, a feeling of Deja-vu ramming into me as the words leave my lips.
“It wasn’t for you.” He responds with a clipped tone. “Jackson really does want to see you again. Luke and him are over at my place.”
