Chapter 16 #2
Quiet stillness falls between us, more peaceful now that Alvina and Daryl are gone, and in the waning light I see the rise and fall of Dom’s chest matching mine.
He wiggles his leg and speaks. “You’re still on my lap.” He raises a brow at me. “Trying to make it last?”
“Your hand is still on my waist,” I point out. “Can’t bear to let go?”
We stare at each other for point-two seconds before scrambling apart. Dom’s hand falls away from my waist, but I can still feel where every finger was pressed against me; I scurry over to the other side of the seat.
“I’m not the one who was listening to my ex’s playlist,” I mumble.
“No? But you’re the one whose face is bright red after sitting on her ex’s lap—”
“It was warm under there,” I snap.
Dangerous. This is a dangerous conversation. And yet…
“Did you bring the blanket for me?” I release the question without knowing which answer I truly want to hear.
“Depends,” he says slowly. He glances over at me, his eyes dropping to my clothes. “Is that my shirt?”
“What?” I say, blinking in surprise. I look down at my top. “Of course it’s not—” But I break off as I inspect the rolled-up sleeves, while Dom reaches for the hem.
He grabs it and gives it a tug, poking one finger through the hole I never fixed. “Mine,” he says, a casual word that somehow sends shivers through me. After a pause, he adds, “The blanket was for you. Good thing I brought it, though, huh?”
We don’t look at each other again. We don’t speak.
Yet as we drive back down to Autumn Ridge, I can’t help but feel that our silence says a million things all on its own.
I make a somewhat disturbing discovery when I arrive home and head up to the room I share with my mother: the lipstick on top of my dresser is the same lipstick that was on Daryl’s face. I stop in my tracks at the sight, shuddering.
Then I turn around and walk right back out of the room.
Alvina’s not home yet, and because I value my sanity, I choose not to think about where she might have gone after leaving Make-Out Ridge. I can only do so much, after all, and I’m tired.
Pretending to kiss your ex really takes it out of you. And even though our lips never touched, my heart is still beating as though they did.
It requires a few minutes to take stock of my relocation choices.
I visit the room with the exercise equipment first, because I’m not opposed to sleeping in a sleeping bag for a bit.
But there’s a hard plastic mat on the floor to protect the carpet from the exercise stuff, and the fit of the weight machines is tight enough that there’s nowhere for me to stretch out fully.
I remove that room from my list. It smells like rubber in there anyway, and strong scents tend to aggravate my head.
The next option is the couch in the living room. Much more comfortable than the floor, but with it comes the unfortunate loss of privacy—even when sharing with Alvina there’s a door I can close. Nathan is an early riser, too, and I’ll be woken up whenever he comes downstairs.
There’s always the shop.
It’s an idea that’s been on my mind for a while, one that seems ridiculous and at the same time makes perfect sense.
A hardware shop isn’t a great place to camp out, in general.
But whenever I got sick as a kid, whenever I had to stay home from school, Berk’s is where I went.
I laid down in the back room with a sleeping bag and a book, often accompanied by a trash can.
My dad would come check on me throughout the day, and if I was feeling better in the afternoon hours, I’d help him back there, too—organizing parts, unpacking boxes.
I let myself fall onto the couch, the cushion swallowing me and cradling me while I think. It only takes two seconds of staring at the dusty overhead light for me to decide, however.
“To Berk’s we go,” I say. An embarrassing struggle against the couch’s gravitational pull ensues, but then I’m up and ready and feeling strangely energized. I hurry up the stairs and grab a faded red duffle from my closet; I pack a few sets of clothing, some toiletries, and call it good.
I’m halfway out of the bedroom when I remember the box hidden under the bed; after a second of debate, I dig it out and pack it too, in case Alvina gets nosy. I also grab my pillow and tuck it under my arm. Then I’m off, a spring in my step despite how tired I truly am.
I’ve got one hand on the front door when—
“Ditching me, huh?”
I startle at Nathan’s voice and whirl around, hitching my bag more securely over my shoulder. Then I give him a sheepish smile.
“Sorry,” I say as he watches me from the couch, where he’s taken the spot I recently vacated. “But…yeah.”
He lets out an exaggerated sigh and drops his head back against the couch cushion, staring at the ceiling for a second. “What am I supposed to do without you here?”
“I contribute basically nothing to this household,” I point out. “Except for my winning smile and stellar personality.”
“But those things are irreplaceable,” he says solemnly, and it has its intended effect—my lips twitch. Then, more serious, he says, “Where are you going?”
“Dad’s shop,” I say. “For now. If I can’t figure out something different, I’ll come back. But a few days of space would be good for me anyway.”
He nods, because he understands. “What are you telling Mom?”
“You and I both know she won’t realize I’ve moved for quite a while,” I say in a would-be neutral voice. “I’ll figure something out by then.”
“You have a key to the shop?”
“Yep.”
“And everything you need?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Sleeping bag?”
“I keep one in my trunk.”
Nathan sighs again, but this one is more real. “Well, come back any time you want. Seriously.”
“I know,” I say, but my feet are already itching to cross the threshold, my grip tight on the door handle. “I will. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Do. And remember I’m leaving town for a few days next week while the festival is going on, so I won’t be here.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I tilt my head, brightening. “To visit your girlfriend? When will you be back?”
“Saturday. Serena doesn’t get much time off work.”
In that case, I bet I could sneak home and sleep in his room while he’s gone—
“Don’t take over my room while I’m gone,” he adds sternly, and I deflate.
“Why not?” I sound more than a little whiny, and I’m not proud of myself.
“Because you’re messy,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “and because you smell like a girl, and I’ll know. I’ll know if you do, okay? Don’t sleep in my bed.”
I glower at him.
“Text me when you get to the shop,” he says as his head droops backward again, his eyes fluttering closed.
“It’s two minutes away,” I say.
“Great. I’ll still be awake. Text me.”
I’m not sure he will still be awake, based on the way his voice is fading, but I agree anyway and then head to my car. A few minutes later I arrive at Berk’s, where I pull around back and park.
My key turns in the lock with a satisfying sound, and I can’t help but smile as I step into the storage room. I lock the door behind me and then carry my bag, pillow, and sleeping bag to my time-honored stretch of carpet over by the wall.
I don’t unpack or even change clothes. I just unroll the sleeping bag, toss the pillow down, and stretch out, feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. I only barely remember to text Nathan, and five minutes later, I’m fast asleep.
I dream of days gone by, of Dom—and of things I don’t let myself remember.