Breathe into Me (10 page)

I bit my lip again, then turned and threw my arms around Everett’s neck in a tight hug. “Thank you
so
much, this is awesome!”

It wasn’t until he put his arms around me that I realized I’d just thrown myself at him again, just like that day on the beach. But without the haze of alcohol, this seemed more intensely
real
. Something in him filled me with a fierce sense of wanting, though I didn’t even know what it was I wanted so badly. I froze, waiting for him to see my need and for the groping to start, but his hands stayed in the safe zones. Uncomfortable about my reaction, I pulled away only to be brought up short by his hands locked behind my back. He was watching me, head cocked sideways, an assessing look in his eyes.

My gaze fell to his lips, and a yearning desire to see what they felt like had me leaning forward. I checked myself just in time, disappointment lashing through me. It didn’t matter that his arms felt good, or that I wanted to hug him again for being, well,
him
. I knew he’d seen some of my life in the bar and when he’d picked me up from the beach drunk, and I felt ashamed.

I was better than that, and yet, it was all he’d seen of me and my life.

Jake and Trent walked back toward us, and I ducked out from Everett’s arms. He seemed reluctant to let me go, his hand sliding down my arm and leaving behind a trail of goose bumps.

Beside us, Trent had a star-struck expression in his eyes, and Jake was grinning from ear to ear. “Now don’t you forget, I need your papa’s approval before you can do anything on my cars.”

“He races,” Trent said to Everett in an excited voice. “Wants me to be part of his pit crew.”

Jake clapped the boy on the back. “Maybe even a driver, if you know anything ‘bout being behind a wheel.”

It didn’t surprise me that Jake would try to scoop up the young mechanic. My uncle Jake had always liked speed, even if it came with a fair amount of crashes. His racing days were the reason why he had two bum knees and a bevy of back problems, as well as a barn full of vehicles to make any racing fan jealous. It also probably explained why he liked robbing the cradle.

Or so my grandmother said.

“You think it’s safe to drive home?” I asked.

Trent shrugged. “Everything looked fine, I guess you won’t really know until you take it out.”

“It’s a shame to see this beast so clean.” Jake peered at me from over the hood. “Especially given how wet it’s been up here lately.”

A slow smile crept over my lips. “Uncle Jake, you still have that mud hole on the other end of your property?”

* * *

By the time we got back to Oyster Cove, every inch of the Bronco was covered in red clay and Everett had only just managed to pry his hands off the Oh Shit bar. “I see now why you broke a transmission,” he said.

I gave him a smug smile as we pulled through town. The look on his face when I’d revved that new transmission and driven straight into what looked like a large lake had been priceless. “Well, now you can tell everyone that you’ve been mudding down in Mississippi.”

“Down in Mississippi and up to no good?”

“Well, look at that: city-boy knows his country music!”

His laugh made my heart dance. I hadn’t had a day this fine since, well, a very long time.

“I had fun today.”

I looked over at him when he spoke. His blue eyes were dancing, and I could tell the truth from the small smile on his normally placid face. “Yeah, me, too.”

We drove along in amicable silence for a while. When I pulled up in front of the white mansion, he didn’t immediately get out. It was already getting darker, the overcast skies making the sunlight dimmer than usual.

“I’ve never been around a girl who knows her way around cars like that.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”

His words made me simultaneously want to laugh and cry. Friendship with a boy wasn’t something I had much experience with. There was no use denying that I was attracted to him, although I tried to suppress the feeling. I was so used to rushing in too fast that trying to take it slow was proving difficult, and I wasn’t ready to give up our friendship.

At my silence, Everett sighed and stared outside the window. “Look, I know you have issues you’re dealing with, and I’m trying to be a friend. But you should probably know that I like you. A lot.”

Part of me knew I should be happy—he liked me!— and yet I could feel only fear. Fear, that it would end up like every other “relationship,” that he’d get whatever he wanted and be done with me. I knew I needed to say something, but didn’t know what.
Was being “normal” so difficult?

When I didn’t say anything, he sighed again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Panic threatened to overwhelm me as he opened my door and stepped out. “I got fired from my job.”

I don’t know why I said that right then, but it definitely got Everett’s attention. “Why?” he asked, frowning.

“I … Someone came in and accused me of something I didn’t do, and the manager fired me over the ensuing ruckus.” Macon’s accusation still stung, and there was a lot about my life I’d never told Everett.

His brow lowered even more, and concern lit his eyes. “You going to be all right?”

I gave a jerky nod, swallowing down the sudden emotion. He hadn’t even cared to know what people had said, only about my well-being. For some reason, this made me want to cry. “I told my other job and they promised me more hours.”

He nodded, and then leaned back into the truck. “Don’t you think about canceling the GED tutoring sessions. I’ll take a rain check before a cancellation. And don’t play hooky. I know where you live, remember.”

The playful threat made me want to smile, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my lips from moving.

“And Lacey?” I looked over at him. “If you need anything, just call.”

The wind was picking up off the water, a sure sign we were in for a summer storm. Oak trees rained down leaves and debris along the road ahead of me, but I didn’t want to leave just yet. Everything in me wanted to stay with this boy, spend more time talking and getting to know him. But going down that road would lead to too much temptation, too much worry that I’d fall into old habits and expectations, which was why I had to get out of there.

Nodding to his statement, I started up the old Bronco as he stepped back and shut my door. My heart was heavy as I pressed down the gas, heading away from all I wanted right that moment for the place I hated.

I stood in the pharmacy aisle, staring at the boxes. It had been a while since I’d gone looking for do-it-yourself hair color, and I didn’t remember there being so many different shades and brand names.

Absently, I twisted my blond hair around my finger. This morning I’d looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, and found I hated my reflection. That had been a weird feeling. It wasn’t so much that I thought myself ugly, or that my hair was a mess. I just woke up hating the image I portrayed, so here I was trying to do something about it.

Pulling one of the boxes down, I stared at the model on the front before turning it around to check what the various colors looked like. Ordinarily I would have gone to a beauty shop for this, but because I’d lost my job, funds were tight. As much as I wanted a change, I had to prioritize my options. Right now, drugstore hair dye was cheap, and I was willing to do it myself to save money.

“Hey, girl, haven’t seen you in a while.”

Surprised by the familiar voice, I looked sideways to see Cherise leaning on a shopping cart, smirking over at me. Hastily, I put the box of hair dye back on the shelf and heard her chuckle.

I’d only ever seen the bartender in the bar, and under those dim lights I had mistakenly assumed from her self-assurance that she was older. In the light of day, however, she didn’t look much older than me. Like a true Southern girl, she rocked the cutoff shorts and halter top, with the cowboy boots being a nice added touch. She seemed far more comfortable in her body than I was with mine. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail beneath an Ole’ Miss red cap.

Right now she was waiting for my response, one eyebrow quirked. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” I started, and then trailed off as she waved her hand.

“Don’t be. From the look of things, it seemed you needed to take a break anyway.” She tilted her head sideways. “Looking to do a makeover?”

“Um …”

A knowing smile crossed her lips. “Change can be fun.” She studied me for a moment, tilting her head to the side, and then plucked a box of color from the aisle and tossed it to me. “Here, bet you’ll like this one.”

I turned it over to see a cover model with flowing chestnut hair staring at me. “Thanks,” I said tentatively, fidgeting with the box in my hands.

“If it’s any consolation,” Cherise continued as if we were having a conversation, “I quit that place, too. Got a bit rowdier than I prefer. Looks like I’m taking over at the Calamity Jane here in town.”

“You’re bartending there?”

“Nope, own the joint. Well, technically the
bank
owns it, but it’s mine to run. You should come by some night. I promise to keep better tabs on who’s allowed inside.”

The bar Calamity Jane had been an Oyster Cove tradition far longer than I’d been around. The club was less than a block from the ocean and had lain barren due to hurricane damage until a couple years ago. I hadn’t yet been there but always meant to go.

“I’ll see,” I said cautiously. “I’m trying to get away from that life; it’s … not me.”

“Good girl.” At my bemused stare, she grinned. “Never be ashamed to go your own path. Sure as hell ain’t easy, I’ll tell you that, but it makes life worth living.”

A slow smile crept over my lips, and Cherise winked at me. “See you around, girl,” she said, slipping past me and around the corner. I stared after her for a second, then at the box of hair dye in my hands, before moving up to the counter.

While the cashier rung up my purchase, I pulled out my phone to text Everett.

< Where are y’all working today? >

< Down off 90, by the water. Why? >

My smile grew into a grin as an idea formed in my head.

< No reason. >

Half an hour later, I was cruising down the coastal highway looking for construction. In the seat beside me was a large cooler full of flavored snowballs. I was glad I’d brought the cooler because it took me longer to find the site than I’d hoped. Eventually I saw men at work on the frontage road and pulled off.

I recognized Trent first. He wore a black tank that was already dusty from the day’s work. He noticed me and called to somebody behind a wall as I pulled the cooler from the passenger seat. Indecision hit me suddenly.
This is such a stupid idea
. What was I trying to do anyway?

Then another figure appeared beside Trent, and I swallowed. The shaggy dark hair and broad shoulders identified Everett, but it wasn’t his hair I was looking at. Unlike Trent, Everett had opted to shed his shirt entirely; even from a distance, I could see the outline of muscles on his torso. His hands were in large work gloves, which he pulled off and tucked under one arm, staring at me from across the site.

I realized I had been staring with my mouth ajar, and shut it with a snap. Weakly, I gave a small wave, rooted to the ground, the cooler dangling beside me. When he started my way, I almost bolted back into the Bronco, but held my ground by a thread. Up close I could see the sweat and dirt coating his entire body. Gray smudges of what I guessed were concrete ran up his arms. All I wanted to do was reach out and see if he felt as good as he looked.

“My eyes are up here.”

I jerked my gaze up, face flaming. Then the absurdity of his words hit and I laughed. That seemed to break the tension, at least on my end, and I lifted up the ice chest in my hands. “I brought snowballs.”

At his blank look, I opened up the chest and picked out one of the colorful balls of ice in paper cones. “Here,” I said, handing him a blue one and a spoon.

He took the cup from my hands, staring at it. “We call these snow cones where I’m from,” he said, spooning a bite into his mouth.

The ice treats were a summer tradition down here. Already the sun was beating down; I could feel perspiration prickle my scalp just from standing there. I’d lived here for several years and still had trouble with the humidity in summer. “I figured y’all would probably be needing something like this about now,” I said, finally finding my voice.

“I hope you brought enough to share.”

I hadn’t seen Trent come up and turned a startled look at him when I realized he stood just behind Everett. “Um, yeah, actually,” I replied, lifting up the cooler. “I couldn’t fit more than eight in here, though, but I can run and get more if you want.”

“No shit.” Trent’s cocky smile broadened as I showed him the rest. “My dad left with a few guys to pick up supplies, so this is perfect. Bet they stopped to get something cold anyway; doubt they’ll bring anything back.” He took the cooler, and then slapped Everett on the back. “Dude, your girlfriend’s awesome.”

My jaw dropped at the other boy’s declaration but I couldn’t get any words out correcting him before he hurried away back to the work site. Several other boys in various states of undress had appeared to see what the commotion was about. They swarmed around Trent as he set the cooler down on a pile of cinderblocks, each pulling out their own treat.

“I think you just gained several new fans.”

I cringed at Everett’s words, and pointed awkwardly between us and Trent. “About what he said …”

Everett waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. You want to meet them?”

“Meet who?”

“The crew. Your fans await, m’lady.”

I gave an awkward laugh but followed hesitantly after him toward the group. There weren’t as many as I’d thought, barely a handful, and they all seemed about the same age. They turned at my approach and the sudden attention was hard to bear; I gave a small nervous wave.

“You already know Trent. His dad runs the company.” Everett pointed at each boy in turn. “This is Cole, Jake, Daniel, and Vance. This is Lacey St. James.”