Page 70 of Let the Light Shine Through

You can take avalanche classes, you can wear an airbag, but when the overhang your best friend is standing on suddenly drops and his own bag doesn’t deploy properly, you don’t have any control over that. I didn’t have any fucking control over that.

I do have control now though.

I could have control, if I chose to, because like Gia said, there’s always a choice. Even in a storm of turmoil, you still have choices. People like Gia and Al, they choose to be the eye, while me, I’ve been pretending the storm’s not even there. I’ve been pretending a lot lately. Pretending I’m okay walking away from Gia. Pretending I don’t miss snowboarding. Pretending my old life doesn’t even exist. Pretending I don’t exist.

Interrupting my thoughts, Al says, “Roz, give Gia a ride home for me, would you?”

“Okay,” I reply, finding and holding his daughter’s eyes.

“Gia, let Roz walk you to the door this time.”

“Okay,” she says, not looking away either.

I know what I want now. I want to be the fucking eye.

The entire way to Gia’s house, she talks to me, and not even in exchange for me talking to her either. She fucking talks to me. Willingly. Openly. I end up missing the turnoff into her driveway a few too many times, and after the fourth attempt at acting like I can’t see it, Gia crawls over the center console, sitting on my lap to do it herself.

“It really isn’t that hard,” she says, parking my Chevy.

“Not yet,” I tell her, staring at the skin where her shoulder meets her neck and licking my lips. It’s not that hard, but it’s getting there, especially when Gia squirms on my lap and I can feel the heat of her pussy directly above my cock.

“I missed you.” I don’t mean for it to come out so strained, but I’m so tired of holding back. I’m so tired of not being like this with Gia more. I’m so tired of not being like this with Gia at all. I’m just so tired. I used to think pretending was easy, but really, it’s fucking exhausting.

“Roz?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I missed…”

I tear my eyes away from the newly formed goose bumps to meet hers in the rearview mirror.

“Your truck. I missed your truck.” With that, she opens the driver’s door and hops down on the gravel driveway, but it takes me a little longer to get out.

She missed…my truck?

Right. Yeah. Makes sense, especially since she kisses the window easier than she kisses me. She did that again tonight—she left another kiss print on the glass. I’ve got news for whoever buys this truck off me when I’m done with it…I’m keeping that window. The passenger door window, with Gia’s lip marks, is mine. Forever.

Trudging up the steps, Gia’s phone rings, and she answers it, putting it on speaker while she fits the key to the doorknob.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Rowdy’s voice crackles through the speaker. “What time am I picking you up in the morning?”

Gia’s hand freezes, and I nudge a splinter of paint sticking up from one of the wood planks with the toe of my shoe. As soon as I get it to stay down, another pops up next to it. The whole wraparound porch needs to be repainted. Or redone. It’s in really bad shape. Inside Gia’s house, it’s homey and peaceful and purposely lived in, but the outside is falling apart and something’s gonna have to be done soon. It’s only a matter of time before the decay makes its way inside.

Rowdy laughs, asking Gia, “Did you forget?”

“The cabin. Yeah, I did. Shit.”

Rowdy’s voice lowers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just gonna try to…”

Even with my eyes on my shoes, I can feel her look at me.

“Never mind.”

“You’re sure?”