Thankfully, she gets my silent message. “Boyfriend? Oh gosh, did I just say that? I meantbestfriend, Nikolas. It’s been a very busy day. Slip of the tongue.”
“But the rainbow light…” Evan continues, still gaping, eyes flitting between the art and my mother. “Is that? Is this—symbolism?”
“I commissioned the art from him for Pride,” Mom quickly fibs, gnawing nervously at her lip. Evan doesn’t appear to buy that answer, and she seems aware of it, so she tries changing the subject entirely. “Brooky, you made quite a pretty penny yourself, too. Are you sure you won’t take anything for your postcards, sweetie?”
I roll my eyes. “Keep it for the shop, Mom. We’ve been through this a hundred times.”
“You make postcards?” Evan asks me, though his eyes are still fixed on his son’s art.
“I do. Those pictures you saw up on my computer yesterday, they’re sold in the gift shop.”
“Oh gosh, Evan, yes! You have to see them. Come!” She practically hauls him over to the rack of postcards displaying my photography—doing more damage control, by distracting him—showing them off the way a proud parent hangs their kid’s artwork on the fridge. “He took these ones on one of his favorite hikes, the meadow at the base of Steepled Mountain. Has he shown you his pressed flowers?”
Evan shakes his head.
“Oh, they’re wonderful! When he drops them off to me, I do a lot of resin epoxy work creating bookmarks with them. Those used to sell well at the bookstore next door too!” she gushes.
“It appears your son is very talented,” Evan grins back at her, though I can tell by his distant tone that he’s still stuck on my Mom’s inability to smooth over her blunder.
He has questions. Questions I’m sure he’s aware I have the answer to. He glances at me, likely noting the sheen of sweat that’s suddenly coated my forehead and the apologetic look in my eyes, and his jaw ticks.
“Oh very,” Mom muses. “Except he hasn’t had any time lately to show off his talents! Evan, darling, don’t let him work too hard, will you?”
“No ma’am,” he assures her, his tone clipped. She doesn’t pick up on it, but I sure do.
It appears we’re not even two hours into testing out a relationship, and I’ve already bungled this up.Woo, go me!Look at me saving myself the trouble of having to deal with end-of-summer Brooks problems.
Without warning, she tips up on her toes and plants a kiss on his cheek and seals it with a little pinch when they get flushed. “Ireallylike you.”
“Uh, thanks.” Evan’s cheeks get even redder.
The shop phone rings, and Mom scurries over to go answer it.
Evan steps in close to me, so close I can feel his breath causing goose bumps on my neck when he whispers to me, “I think we should probably hop on the bike and go talk somewhere private, don’t you?” His tone sounds kinda snarly. It sends shivers down my spine.
I gulp. “He’s mypatient, Evan.”
“I’mhisfather,” he hisses.
“Then maybe we should get back to camp, soyoucan talk to your son, before they all go to Morgan’s game…”
“I can’t believe you kept something like this from me, Brooks.Cannotbelieve it. You knew I was struggling to connect with my son. You fucking knew it, and you didn’t say a word to me.”
“I’m bound by an oath to keep things confidential, Evan,” I sigh. “Unless he’s causing and/or threatening physical harm to himself or others, I am bound by a professional oath to not say a thing! This sort of thing wasexactlywhy I was trying to remind you that I can’t be in a relationship with you!”
“I can’t deal with this shit right now,” Evan mutters, tossing up his hands and then stalking out of the gallery and down the sidewalk to where he parked his bike.
Mom approaches me, a look of deep concern etching her face. “I’m so sorry, Brooks. That conversation you just had looked intense,” she worries. “All this time I spent chatting with Colton at the camp, I had no inclination that he was keeping this a secret. He was justso openabout him and Nikolas. I never in a million years would have said anything, if I had known.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I try to reassure her. “Evan’s just—well, he’s going through some of his own stuff right now. I think this is a lot for him all at once.”
She nods, peering up at me with wetness in her eyes. “I’m sorry if I messed things up between you two as well, you know. Lizabeth said she’d been talking with a man at the diner over the last two weeks who was struggling, and that she felt bad for him. When she’d called me all excited earlier to say that the same man was actually the one you’d been telling us about that was helping you out at the camp, well, we thought it was kismet.”
I shrug, leaning down to give her a hug. “It is what it is. Usually, if something’s too good to be true, it generally is. Luckily, I didn’t have time to get my heart broken.”
“Bologna!” she yelps, ushering me out the door. “You go. Don’t give up. I will grovel myself, if I have to.”
She all but physically kicks my behind, just to get me back to Evan. I find him on his bike, legs parted wide to prop it up, eyes cast downward to his phone screen, the helmet he makes me wear on his lap. He doesn’t say a word as I approach, just stands enough to slide his phone into his pocket and then thrusts the helmet at me. I slip it on, and gingerly climb on behind him.
