Page 72 of ClickBack

“I’m aware.”

Beside me, Jarrett rests his hand on my knee. He has advice about the heat, the timing, and whether Graves needs to turn anything. Graves ignores most of it until Jarrett gets up and reaches for the tongs.

“Oh, you work here now?”

“Somebody has to save this corn.”

“Turn it, then.”

Jarrett turns the corn, brings me an ear on a plate, and sits down again.

“You can have his portion of the ribs,” Graves tells me.

“She’s going to share with me.”

I spread butter over the corn. “You should have asked before you sat down.”

Graves laughs, and Jarrett looks at my plate with enough concern that I break off a piece for him. He takes it from my fingers, still watching me. I have to look away first, which would be less embarrassing if Graves weren’t standing right there.

We stay upstairs until the shade has moved beyond our table. Graves packs a container for himself, including enough potato salad that I make him give some back. Jarrett helps clean the grill without offering further instruction. I’m carrying the last bowl to the elevator when Graves calls after me.

“Next time, make the big bowl.”

“Next time, stop eating it before we sit down.”

That night, I spread my skincare across the long bathroom counter while Jarrett brushes his teeth at the other sink. There is room for everything I brought and most of what I left at home. When I finish, I pack the little bag but leave my cleanser beside his shaving cream.

He glances at it as he rinses. Neither of us says anything. I tie my scarf over my bob and go into the bedroom, where he has already put the new fan on my nightstand.

“Try that,” he says, turning it on.

I sit on the bed and tilt it toward me. The air reaches my face and the open neck of his T-shirt.

“Lower?” he asks.

“No. That’s good.”

He pulls back the blankets and gets in beside me. When he reaches across to turn off the lamp, I feel the brief, familiar anticipation of what might follow.

Instead, he kisses my shoulder and settles behind me.

“Tired?” I ask.

“Very.”

I cover his hand with mine. “Then go to sleep.”

He does, quickly enough to make me smile in the dark. I draw his arm a little closer and fall asleep with the fan on my face.

The phone wakes me later. I cannot tell how much later. There is no light at the curtains, and Jarrett is already reaching across the nightstand when I register the second vibration.

“Kim?”

His voice is low. Hers is fast, too faint for words and clear enough for me to hear distress. I open my eyes, then close them against the phone’s light.

“Slow down. Where’s Dre?”

The mattress shifts as he sits up.