AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You grew up around here, right?” Navy eyes implored an answer from me, but I remained frozen, unsure of what to say and unwilling to play whatever game this was. He had to remember me—how could he not?
“She did,” my dad replied on my behalf, filling in the silence.
Davis’s gaze swung from me to my father, and that’s when I realized I was embarrassing my parents. Shame fluttered alongside my pulse as I tried to recover.
“Yeah, sorry. I did.”
There. Short, honest, and to the point.
His gaze was back on me as he dug into his mashed potatoes.
“Well, I was just curious…because there was this—”
My knee jumped under the table. It was completely subconscious, but the table jerked, and Mom jumped up.
“Rae,” she whined accusingly as she swiped red juice from her shirt.
“Mom, oh crap, I’m so sorry.” I turned toward her, jumping up to help, and my hasty movement toppled my glass too.
Davis dove forward to catch it, while I turned and tried for the same thing. Our heads cracked together, and suddenly I wanted to cry—and not because of the pain radiating through my temple. I’d take roaches any day over this crater in my chest that kept expanding each and every time I seemed to do something that embarrassed my family.
“Ouch!” I rubbed at my forehead while using a potholder to mop up the excess liquid.
“Shit, sorry about that,” Davis grunted, rubbing at his own forehead.
Normal me would have reassured him it wasn’t his fault—that this was all mine because it was, but hurt and angry me just turned away and let him sit there in pain.
“Here, Mom…I’ll grab some towels.” I darted toward the sink, reached for a few from the drawer and walked back to the table, wiping and cleaning while my dad said something that made Davis laugh. I didn’t miss the way Davis continued to cut a look in my direction every few seconds or so.
Cradling the wet potholder and towels, I stood and addressed the table. “I’m going to go throw these in the wash.”
Darting toward the living room, I cut down the hall and practically dove into the laundry room. Dumping the soaked mess in my arms on the top of the dryer, I braced myself on the ledge of the washer.
If only I had included my parents in what had happened all those years ago, they’d never have agreed to befriend this man. Now it was too late, and they loved him more than me.
“So stupid,” I muttered out loud, pushing open the top of the machine lid and swiping my load inside.
“What was that?”
Davis had walked up behind me, holding the center of his soaked shirt away from his chest. I hadn’t even realized he’d gotten juice on it.
“Nothing, sorry…” I looked down at my feet, hating this feeling notching in my gut. It was a swelling of my pride, a shrinking of myself and a whole lot of pain that hadn’t been addressed. I had taken advantage of the school counselors three years ago to try to work through these feelings, and I realized now how foolish I was to have assumed I was all fixed.
Davis stepped around me, pulling my thoughts from the past, and that’s when I realized I had missed a rather large development. His shirt was gone. I sucked in a silent breath and quickly averted my gaze. I had never seen him shirtless; even that night he was with that woman in the library, he had been fully clothed. I allowed one look, darting my eyes to the side, so he wouldn’t know I was peeking. But holy shit! He was cut like stone and molded into a magazine-worthy masterpiece.
“Your dad said I could just borrow one of his white shirts, said they were folded on the counter in here?”
Trying not to gulp awkwardly, or shake—I pointed toward the pile I had finished earlier that day. “Right there.”
My eyes returned to my feet, which needed to begin moving out of the room and away from him.
“You don’t like me very much,” he said, matter of fact.
Shrugging, I turned and grabbed the soap, filled the washer and started it without offering to add his sullied shirt.
“I have no reason not to like you.” The first lie of the evening. “I just wasn’t prepared to meet you. My parents have talked about you quite a bit over the years, and I had no idea you were even remotely close to my age.” Or named Davis Brenton.
He shook his head, smiling before turning away and slipping into a shirt. The fact that I would be thinking about him shirtless in my house later tonight made me hate him just a little bit more, if that were even possible.
