You Make Me (Blurred Lines #1)(33)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Or at least stay until Tuesday,” I told him with a smile. I had expected him to put his arm around me but he didn’t, so I sat back up, uncomfortable with him perceiving that I was hanging on to him or something. “I only have groceries for two days.”

“You brought groceries? And here I was worried I was going to starve. Three hours is a long time to go without food.”

So he was planning to take the second ferry back to the mainland. I shouldn’t have expected any more but I was still disappointed. He’d said he was going to fight for me when I was with Ethan, but now I wasn’t and he wasn’t trying anything at all. It was unnerving. I didn’t know what to make of it. So I kept my tone light. “You thought you were going to starve but you came anyway? You’re sweet.”

“That is one thing no one has ever accused me of being.”

“It’s a compliment, not an accusation.”

“You know how well I handle compliments.”

“Yes, I do. You squirm.”

“You’re the same way.”

“Yeah. But I’ve gotten better at accepting them.” Which sounded like a thinly veiled request for him to give me one. That wasn’t what I meant. It was just that Ethan complimented me all the time, and I had learned to trust it, to take it at face value, for the first time in my life. But Heath wasn’t going to want to hear about Ethan and I didn’t want Heath to think that I was asking for praise from him so I added hastily, “But that doesn’t mean anyone needs to give them.”

He gave me an amused look. “Yeah, you don’t have any issues at all. None.”

I had sounded completely ridiculous. “Screw you,” I said, not upset with him at all, but equally amused. I definitely felt like I had worked hard to be different, more mature, but had I really been successful? I wasn’t sure.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

It sounded like simple teasing. Not sexual. Not a suggestive innuendo that would be followed by a touch, or a kiss. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I didn’t want to ruin the afternoon. I didn’t want him to leave, or for us to argue. So I just plucked at a dead patch of grass. “I’m not sure I believe in wishes any more.”

“I never did.”

“What did you believe in, Heath?” I asked, aware that my butt was numb from the cold ground and my nose was itchy from the sharp wind. I sniffled and rubbed it, shifting my perch. The cold felt as raw as my emotions, the water slapping against the huge rocks below us.

“I believed in us.”

So had I, and that made me deeply sad. I hugged my knees to my chest, leaning my cheek on my gloves so I could look over at him. He was staring out at the ocean. “Thank you for not covering up your tattoo.” It reminded me of when I had existed on hope, and hope alone. I had graduated and created plans for myself and now those had all crumbled. But I could make new plans. Maybe sometimes hope was more important to have than a checklist.

“I’m not comfortable with praise, remember?” He picked up a stick and threw it, hard. “There are some things you just can’t cover up.”

That was definitely true.

“Remember when that church lady came and brought those bags of clothes and they were like the ugliest hand-me-downs over? Covered in dog hair and deodorant stains?”

“Oh, God. Yes. I remember.” At first, we’d been insulted. Even my father had looked at the woman with a WTF expression as she’d repeatedly said the clothes were ‘for the orphans.’ “It was so 1945. Weird.”

“It was satisfying as hell to burn all those clothes. We had a hell of a bonfire that night.”

The memory made me smile. We had taken an inordinate amount of pleasure in setting those crusty clothes on fire. My father shook his head but hadn’t said anything in protest, just not to try to cook s’mores because of the chemicals in the fabric. “I feel kind of bad. I mean, she was just trying to be nice.”

“She was being patronizing.”

He was right. The woman most likely had slept better at night thinking she’d done her part to help poor kids. Her motivation hadn’t been true generosity, but impressing herself. “What made you think of that?”

“I was thinking burning shitty clothes would be easier than chopping wood.” He laughed and stood up, holding his hand out to me. “Come on. You look cold.”

“I’m fine.” I was cold, but it didn’t matter. But I took the hand he offered and hauled myself up, brushing off the butt of my jeans. “I can’t believe it’s almost Halloween.” It was a nothing comment and I wasn’t even sure why I said it, except that looking around me it was obvious that the trees were already bare. With Heath I’d always had a habit of thinking out loud. I’d never been afraid to share my thoughts, had never been guarded with him.

“That was the best thing about being in the military. We always got all these care packages at holidays. Tons of candy after Halloween. I’m going to miss that.”

He had let go of my hand and I wished that he hadn’t despite the fact that I was wearing gloves. “I haven’t been trick or treating since fourth grade.”

“If I had to beg for it, I wouldn’t have gotten any. You know I’m lousy at asking for things. But it just showed up by the bagful. Well-meaning people looking out for soldiers.”

He was definitely lousy at asking for things. “Let’s carve a pumpkin this year,” I said, even though it was a stupid idea. We had nowhere to display a pumpkin in his studio apartment or my room at the sorority house.

“Can I make it look like the dude from Hellraiser?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t even sure who that was but it was probably gross. I didn’t really care. I just wanted to do something that was traditional. I wanted to know that at least one holiday I had someone to spend it with. It was just a few days away so it didn’t feel grasping to suggest we hang out. Even if it was a little bit desperate. I could rationalize that we were friends.

We were friends.

And suddenly I was wondering if that was all he wanted to be.

It was what I had asked him for initially, to at least be friends. I was grateful he seemed able to do that, even as I knew I was already secretly hoping for more.

When we went back to the house, it was comfortable and easy. I made sandwiches with the lunch meat and bread I’d bought at the grocery after seeing Billy, and I watched Heath out the window chopping wood. I’d told him he didn’t need to, but he’d insisted. He had peeled off his jacket and was swinging the ax with easy, confident swings in only his T-shirt.