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I’ve only tackled the base cabinets, however, but for an afternoon’s work and several coats of paint, I’d pat myself on the back if I did that kind of thing.
This morning, I pulled the overgrowth in the front of the house. The mower I usually borrow wasn’t available today to cut the grass in the back, so I was stuckdoing the one job I hadn’t been looking forward to since seeing the house. The front looks good though. Under the baking sun, I pulled up every plant, but now it’s up to Tegan to either leave it bare or pick out new plants.
The front door swings open, but oddly, it’s tentatively closed. Quietly. Suspiciously, even. I know it’s Tegan though because I hear her footfalls as they head toward the smell of fresh paint. By now, I know her gate.
The lid pops as I put it back on the can of paint. I set it aside, out of the way, before I move to wash my hands in the sink. It’s almost dark; I’ve worked long enough.
I hear her enter the kitchen as the water is running over my hands. She doesn’t say anything as I grab the soap bottle, squeeze some into my palm, and lather my fingers. In silence, I scrub at the mix of dry and wet paint along my skin.
The weight of her gaze on my back makes me frown. She has yet to say anything, so, curiously, I look over my shoulder as I rinse the suds off. She lifts her gaze to mine with a pinched expression.
“Hey,” I murmur as I shut off the water.
“Hi.” She loosely crosses her arms over her chest. Her tone was unsure.
Suspicious, I flick the water off my hands, and I turn to face her. I don’t like how uncomfortable she looks. Is it because of what I confessed this morning in this very spot? Or did something happen at Tori’s shop? “How was work?”
Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. “What are we, Cole?” she blurts.
My frown deepens. “What do you mean?”
Her arms tighten around her chest as she grows more and more uncomfortable. “I mean, you and me. Friends? Lovers? More?”
I prop my damp hands on my hips and glance down at my shoes. This isn’t a conversation I thought we’d have, at least not so soon. “Is this because of what Tori said at the hardware store?”
I see her shrug from under my lashes. “Maybe. I -” She rakes her hands through her hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything, to be honest.” She drops her hands back to her sides. “I just need to know what to expect here.”
Leaning my backside against the sink, I say carefully, “I meant what I said. I’m not boyfriend material.”
The space between her brows pinches together. “Why?”
I chew on the inside of my lip for a second as I think of how to tell her how I feel. Feelings have never been my strong suit, no matter how often my sister tried to get me to express them. It’s hard to do that when you’re protecting someone, once my sister, and now . . . “You deserve more than what I can offer.”
She wraps her fingers around her other arm’s bicep and thins out her lips. “I get to decide what I deserve.”
I shake my head a little. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what, Cole?” she asks on an exhausted exhale.
“You have no idea what it’ll be like, saddled with me. Nothing more than a murderer to these people. Nothing more than an ex-con who went away before he could even legally buy a pack of cigarettes. Never mind my reasons for doing what I did because they have no idea. You know what they’ll see you as?” I open my arms, embracing the town. “Do you have any idea what they’ll say about you? How they’ll look at you? What they’ll label you?”
Her frown deepens and she searches the space across my chest. As she comes to some sort of conclusion, she whispers, “I’ve never lived in a small town before.”
I cross my arms. “That’s my point. You have no idea what this will be like for you.”
Her eyes narrow. “I get that you’re trying to protect me, but I don’t need protecting from people I don’t know. Whispers are whispers. Rumors are rumors. As long as I know the truth, they can’t touch me. I am not made of glass. I couldn’t care less what they think or say on who I choose to spend my time with.”
My lips purse. She’s saying all the right things to make me give in, but she still doesn’t get it. “I’m no good for you, sweetheart.”
She takes a step in my direction. “Says who? Them?”
I have no real answer for that, so I just stare her down.
Another step in my direction. “Says you?”
I look away.
She had taken another step, and now she stands before me. I can feel the heat coming from her body, but I keep my arms crossed instead of reaching out and putting my hands on her like I want to. “They may have labeled you for what they believe you are, but they’re not the only ones.” I look back at her as she gently pokes my chest. “You’ve labeled yourself. Deemed yourself unworthy of living a normal life because of the shitty past life you had.”
