We sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the people outside slip and slide on the frozen sidewalk, their coats pulled tight against the wind. The world looks so simple from this side of the glass, like nothing bad can reach us in here.
Finally, Kayleigh breaks the spell. “So, are you gonna use oil, or lube or?—?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. Kent said lotion, maybe, but nothing was super clear.”
She makes a face. “Probably for the best. I think lavender ball stones would haunt my dreams.”
I laugh, real and loud, and for a second it feels like I’m floating above my life, just watching two girls talk about nothing, everything.
But then the weight settles back in. I stare at the Italian worksheet, the blurry ink, and think about what’s waiting for me back at the mansion. The massage table, the closed door, the sound of Kent’s voice growling my name. I’m not sure what scares me more: that I want to help, or that I want something else.
Kayleigh can read my thoughts, and cuts right to it: “Seriously, MK, do you want to do this? Like, do youreallywant to?”
I hug my arms to my chest, partly to fight the cold, partly to hide the tremble in my hands. “It’s not about wanting. It’s about helping. I can do it, so I should.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. Does your stepfather even need it? Or is he just—” Her voice goes low and fierce. “Is he just faking it because he wants your body?”
I flinch, a whole-body jolt. “Jesus, Kayleigh.”
She doesn’t let up. “You’re gorgeous, you know that, right? Like, if I was a forty-something man, and I lived with you, and my wife left? I would be thinking about it. All the time.”
I shake my head, but my face is burning again, and I can’t meet her eyes. “Kent’s not like that. He’s a physician. He knows this stuff. If he says it’s a thing, then it is.”
Kayleigh scoffs, the sound sharp as a chip in glass. “Doctors can be creeps too. Especially the smart ones. They think nobody can catch them because they know all the big words.”
I want to say something smart, something that will shut this down, but all I can think of is Kent’s face when he asked me for help, the way he didn’t look away, not even for a second. “He’s not a creep,” I mutter. “He’s just a man in pain. Literally.”
There’s a silence, thick and heavy. Kayleigh rubs the back of her hand across her nose, sniffing. “And you’re sure you want to do this?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The air is warm and humid, smelling of cinnamon. “Kent took care of us, Kayleigh. My mom was a single mom for a long time, and she’d work those overnight shifts at the rehab center when I was little, which were real tough. Kent gave us breathing room, footed the bills, andlet us move into his mansion. He’s never asked for anything in return and in fact, pays my tuition even now. This is nothing compared to that.”
She chews her lip, not convinced. “Still. It’s weird.”
I nod, because it is.
She softens a little, reaching out to touch my arm. “What if you get, you know—emotionally attached?”
I laugh, the sound brittle. “No, no, that’s unlikely.”
She shrugs. “You’d be surprised. Intimacy is intimacy. Or maybe you just feel like you have to repay him, and it turns into something else.”
The image flashes behind my eyes: Kent on the massage table, shirt unbuttoned, his eyes heavy-lidded and blue as the night sky, calling my name. I want to say it’s impossible, but the word jams up in my throat.
Kayleigh lets out a breath, watching me close. “Does your mom know about this arrangement?”
My mouth goes dry. “Jeannine’s the one who asked me to help.”
Kayleigh’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—your mom actually said, ‘Go massage your stepdad’s?—’”
“Not like that,” I cut in, voice sharp. “She just said he needed help. She didn’t know the details, or if she did, she didn’t say anything.”
A shiver goes through me. Maybe my mom knew all along. Maybe she orchestrated it. My stomach lurches at the thought.
Kayleigh leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “You know, you don’t owe them everything. You’re allowed to say no.”
I shake my head. “It’s not like that. Iwantto help. Kent’s in pain, Kayleigh. And besides, it’s medical. Clinical. There’s nothing…” I trail off, because the word I want is ‘sexual,’ but I can’t make myself say it.
She studies me, her eyes narrowed. “You say it’s clinical, but you’re blushing.”
