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I haven’t had a friend like her for a damn long while, and I’m not ready to jeopardize that.
I wipe the moisture from my face and open my eyes, squinting into the fine downfall. Rain on a sunny day means rainbows, and I could sure as shit use the luck. It takes me a few moments to search the pale hues out, but there it is. Undeniable over the trees that line the back boundary of the property.Beautiful.Sometimes, that's all it takes. A little piece of nature's wonder to remind you there's always something to be grateful for outside the bullshit.
I draw a deep breath and head back inside. Digger sets what looks to be a box of bolts beside the small pile, glancing up at me as he does. "What's got you smiling?"
My gaze roams the length of him, warmth growing inside me at the memory of that body moving over mine mere hours ago.Shame follows quickly in its wake, a wash of ice water through my veins at the realization he’s Maddie’s uncle. He’s herfamily.And I crossed that line.
Maybe he doesn’t regret it, but I’m starting to think Ido.
"There's a rainbow outside." I rub the heel of my hand against my breastbone and nod toward the box he discarded. "Wouldn't you want to keep those?"
"They're all bent or stripped." He doesn't move away, choosing instead to watch me as I tug another two smaller pieces of scrap into my arms. "You haven't been here long, have you? In Red River."
“A little over a year.”
"How long of that you spend with Connor?”
And there it is: the reason for his interest in me.I catch his eye and then turn for the door. "Too long." I ditch the pieces into my growing pile and then head back indoors to find Digger where I left him. Waiting. "Why?"
"What made you move here?" He turns back to the shelving, the top three racks neatly organized, the bottom two awaiting his order.
I absently pull the next piece of scrap toward me, gaze locked on his broad back. The screaming skull stares at me from between his shoulder blades, black eyes surprisingly cynical. "I couldn't tell you why I picked here exactly, other than it was far enough away from where I left."
Nobody called, the first day here. Not one of my family cared to check in on me for over a week. Seventeen days after I boarded the bus, my father called. It took three minutes before he lost his temper, swearing down the line at my choices. I should have stayed. I should have thought of my mother. Him. Of how my decision would affect them.Always them.They grew restless. Angry that they lost control of the situation.
Of me.
Resentful that I dared to carve my own path through life.
Turns out, my resentment ran deeper.
"What got you runnin'?" I snap out of my daze to find my grip clamped on what looks to be from the side of a bike, Digger watching me intently from where he stands a few feet away, cable wrapped around his strong forearm. "That's called a fairing," he explains, misreading my confusion. "Some bikes have them to be more streamlined, but a lot of riders prefer the naked look."
"Naked?"
"Without them fairings." He gestures to the piece in my hand.
"Why don't you sell these bits if you don't need them?" I eye the numerous machines parked around us. “Surely that would be more beneficial than just throwing them out.”
Digger sets down the cable and crosses to where I stand. "Nope. Not these parts." He coaxes me to turn the gently curved piece of painted plastic toward him. "This one's damaged. See there?" I relish the warm smell of leather and cologne as he points to what appears to be cracks in the flat expanse. "You could fix them up, but for the time and the effort, you may as well replace it. It might cost a little more, but it's a darn sight easier just to buy new parts."
"Oh." Seems sensible, I suppose.
He hesitates, hand slowly moving away from the fairing, gaze averted. "You didn't answer my question, though."
I eye the way his plaid shirt is rolled to the elbow and how that seems to accentuate his strong forearms. "I know."
"Hurt too much?"
He’s so close.Close enough to feel the tension radiate off him.
"I wouldn't say it hurts.” Although, that makes the most sense. "I guess I'd say it seems pointless to think about why Icame here and make myself miserable when I can just as easily bury the memories and feel a lot better. You get what I mean?"
He nods, dark blond hair slipping across his eye. "I do." Digger lifts a hand to rake fingers through the choppy lengths, pushing them back from his face. The tangled result sends a rush of heat to the back of my neck. “Look, I don’t want you thinkin’ you mean nothin’, okay?”
“But?” I give him the out before he searches for it.
“But,” he sighs. “Shit’s complicated, right?” He chuckles softly.Is he nervous?
