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Someone asks a question—Kevin, I think.
Nolan’s eyes sear mine. “Yeah.” His lip curves up in a smile, but it’s an ugly thing. A painful thing. It shouldn’t even be called a smile. “Yeah, it gets easier.”
I frown at the bitterness in his tone, wondering why it sounds like a truth…yet feels like a lie. A familiar itchy feeling crawls along the back of my neck and I hang my head, staring blankly at my too-smooth palms.
Fortunately, before I can spiral, Kevin breaks us off into pairs rather than have us go around the circle sharing, just like he said he would at the beginning. I focus on that and take a deep breath.
Everyone turns to their neighbor, but when I look at the guy on my right, he’s already walking away with the person onhisright. Same with the woman on my left.
An icky feeling churns in my gut.
Even in rehab, it’s all the same…
I dart my gaze around, feeling sweat gather at my neck and on my palms when I see everyone pairing off. I try to do the math—it would be just my luck to be the odd one out.
But then I see Nolan, sitting across from me, staring down at his hands again, his gaze far off in thought. The chairs on either side of him empty.
I look to Kevin who’s flipping through a clipboard. He peers up at me over his reading glasses, looks to Nolan, then back to me and nods with a small encouraging smile.
I gulp.
Wiping my hands on my shorts, I push to a stand and make my way across the circle. Rubbing my fingers together, I wet my lips.
“H-hey.”
Nolan tenses.
He flicks his gaze up, and, again, all I can do is stare.
Were his eyes that green yesterday?
His features tighten the faintest bit. If I wasn’t standing so close, I would’ve missed it. Rather than grace me with a verbal response, he kicks a leg out, hooking his ankle around the chair next to him, angling it toward him.
Huffing, he leans forward, running a hand through his hair, and with the other, gestures at the seat.
Okayyyy then.
I gently ease down, sitting with my back ramrod straight, hands clasped together in my lap. My toes curl against the flip-flops, and I peek at Nolan through my lashes, waiting for him to say something. Maybe acknowledge yesterday.
But the longer I stare, and the longer he goes avoiding my gaze, the more I realize I’ll have to be the one to kick this off.
“Champion,” I whisper.
His face pulls down with a deep frown, his gaze lifting to mine. “Excuse me?”
My mouth opens, closes, fumbling for a couple seconds, before I finally manage to say, “Nothing, just, uh…” My face heats.Come on, Skyler. Out with it.“Your name. Nolan.” I test the name out for the first time, loving the way it rolls off my tongue. “It’s of Irish origin. It means champion.”
A long beat passes where Nolan just stares openly at me.
Nice. Way to break the ice.
Dropping my gaze, I curl my toes deeper into the leather soles of my flip-flops. An itch skitters down my arms, gathering in my palms. Mouth sealed shut, I try to breathe normal.
“I’m not Irish.”
I still.
My head snaps up, and I find Nolan cocking his head, peering back at me with a funny look on his face. “Did you just pull that out of your ass or something?”
