Miller Oak tree in the center of town that had become an enduring Southport symbol, and the winding Ohio River curled lazily along the scene. There were dotted pictures of the Golden-Winged Warbler and a white-tailed deer roughly outlined.
I stood back, gazing up at the gigantic project I had undertaken and was damn proud of myself. I was even happier because the first installment of my commission hit my bank account today. I planned to head over to the hospital when I was finished and pay off a chunk of Dad’s outstanding medical debt.
Mom would never let me do it, so I wasn’t even telling her about it. The Galloway pride was notorious, so I planned to sidestep it completely.
I wiped my hands on the cloth I kept tucked in my back pocket. It wasn’t quite as boiling today, thank God. Working outside during a mid-Atlantic heatwave wasn’t exactly ideal, but I was really enjoying the project. It was the first time in years I felt inspired.
However, one huge drawback to the situation was the building I was painting. It was nice getting to spend time with Lena. Growing up, my time and attention was spent on her older brother. Sure, we were often at the same family BBQs and social events, but given she was a whole six years younger, at the time, we didn't have a lot in common. Adam, while doting, usually treated her as the annoying younger sibling she was.
I remembered how in awe of Whitney she was. She used to follow her around, begging my sister to do her makeup. Whitney never had the patience with younger kids that I did. Most times, she would tell Lena to get lost. But on the one or two occasions, Whit had complied, Lena had acted as though the queen herself were giving her attention.
Now that we were both adults, I found that Lena was a smart, witty, fun as hell woman who I genuinely enjoyed being around. It was just a bummer that she was related to the world’s biggest knob.
I was annoyed with myself at how easily I fell into complacent familiarity with Adam. Being around him was like a jolt to the system. It was like waking up; I was alert, alive. Yet at the same time, there was something soothing about being around someone who knew you so well. Someone you shared your entire childhood with.
Adam was still as effortlessly funny and beautiful and charming as he had always been. He was still sensitive and kind. And he still made me laugh my ass off. I found that talking to him was incredibly easy when I allowed myself to forget all the ways he sucked. And damn it, we had had a moment. A real, legit moment.
I swore he was looking at me in the way I always wanted him to look at me, his blue eyes heated and taking all of me in. He mentioned Lord of the Rings. He gave me that smile, the one that melted me into a useless pile of hormone-driven goo. Then the bastard went and pulled out the pinkie thing too. The goddamned, mother fucking pinkie thing.
That was playing dirty, and I didn’t appreciate it.
But I let him. And I even liked it.
I more than liked it.
He was looking at me. I was looking at him. I swear the air between us practically hummed. He had changed so much, but he was still my Adam. The boy I had loved most of my life. It was impossible to see him as anything else when he looked at me like that. But then Chelsea ‘bitchface’ Sloane showed up and reminded me all over again why staying far away from Adam ‘stab you in the back’ Ducate was the best thing for me.
So why did I feel like a mopey teenager all over again? That’s what Adam did to me. He made me feel vulnerable. Powerless. Rejected.
Damn him to hell.
“Hey, are you done for the day?” asked the man in question.
My hand stilled on the lid of the paint can I had just closed up. I thought long and hard about opening it back up and tipping it over the side, watching in satisfaction as it dumped all over his pressed trousers and shiny shoes.
Instead, I tapped the lid, securing it, before cranking the lever to take myself to the ground. I hadn’t really spoken to Adam since Monday and the “Chelsea Incident,’ but I thought about it more