Page 12 of Falling

“Can’t change a tire,” I said.

“Because no one ever taught you,” Booker pointed out. No judgement, just a statement of fact. “That’s not your fault. But I’m teaching you this, now. And if it goes out again, you can text me or drop by the bar and tell me about it. And you’re always welcome to use my shower, but if I show you, you’ll be able to do it yourself. But only if you want to. No pressure.”

I thought about it for a second, gathering my courage. If Booker thought I could do it and he was willing to stand right next to me while I did it, then it had to be okay, right?

Or, I’d die instantly in the resulting explosion and at least I’d never embarrass myself not knowing the first thing about picture books again. So there wasn’t really a downside.

“Okay,” I said, voice almost not shaking at all. “If you trust me.”

“Showers and now minor household maintenance,” Booker said with a laugh. “Not long now until I am trusting you with my life.”

I was pretty sure he was trusting me with his life right now but I didn’t say anything. Our hands brushed as I traded him flashlight for firelighter. His were warm and steady, solid in a way that reassured me. He was solid in a way that reassured me, as though nothing could go terribly wrong while he was there. It was a new feeling for me.

“Flick the lighter on,” he instructed, voice low and mouth close enough to my ear that his breath brushed over my neck, raising the hairs at the back. “And just touch the flame there while you hold down that button.”

His arm brushed against me as he pointed at the button in question. If he was this close, he must really have been confident it’d be fine. I borrowed some of that confidence as I flicked the lighter on and reached for the button.

The whoosh of the pilot light flaring into life made me stumble back, startled. I would have fallen flat on my ass except Booker was still behind me. He caught me one-armed, holding me steady until my feet decided to cooperate and I could stand on my own.

He was just as warm and solid as I’d imagined. For a heartbeat, I wanted to sink back against the warmth of his chest, close my eyes, and let him keep holding me for a while. I hadn’t been hugged in longer than was good for me. I missed being hugged by…

Well. No sense thinking about that now. He was miles away and I wasn’t sure he’d hug me even if was here.

“You did it!” Booked enthused, pride clear in his voice.

Warmth spread in the pit of my stomach. I’d forgotten all about that feeling.

“It wasn’t that hard,” I said, heart still pounding in my ears.

“It wasn’t,” he agreed, a low rumble right next to my ear while he held me steady. “But you did it all the same.”

“I did,” I agreed, wondering how the hell Booker had gotten such a clear read on me so quickly.

He seemed like the type of person who would, though. Evie always knew everything about people from thirty seconds of conversation. They seemed a lot alike.

“You did,” Booker said. I missed the warmth when he eased away, but I liked that he was beaming proudly at me. “Plumbing next, come on.”

I followed him into the house. The next thing I was really aware of after a whirlwind tour of all the broken stuff in the cabin was sprawling out on the comfy, fresh-smelling couch that had magically appeared, staring into the unlit fire, marveling at everything we’d accomplished. Booker had taught me more about home maintenance in the last hour than I’d learned in the entire rest of my life. I might even have retained some of it.

Beside me, he suddenly chuckled. “Do you know how to light your own fire?” he asked. “Are you cold enough for one?”

I shivered, as though my body had needed a reminder that it was cold in here.

“I wish my sister was here,” I said. “She can set fire to anything.”

Booker laughed again, a low, rich sound that I couldn’t help smiling at. I hadn’t made anyone laugh in a while.

“When she comes to visit, I’m telling her you said that.”

“I dunno if I’ll be around long enough for her to visit. I applied to something like a million jobs today,” I said, and then regretted it as soon as the words were hanging between us. That was the wrong thing to say. It made me sound like an ungrateful asshole.

“That bad?” Booker asked. No judgement, again. I looked over at him, and he had a look on his face that I’d seen a lot lately: talk to me, I’m listening.

I was tired of opening a vein for everyone who asked. They all wanted gossip, to hear about poor Miles’s life blowing up in his face. Booker was different, though. When he offered to listen, it felt like it was for my benefit.

“It’s not… you, or anything,” I said. “You’ve been so nice to me and I don’t entirely understand why. But I don’t belong here. Isn’t that obvious?”

Booker shook his head, brow furrowing. “Not to me,” he said. “You’re no weirder than any of the rest of us.”