Page 82 of Touch the Sky

Her gaze flicks up to the sky above us, and I follow the line of her eyes.

“Beautiful day,” she says. “That blue is just crazy. I decided to clean some tack outside to enjoy it.”

She sweeps her arm out, and I notice the saddle trees and bucket set out in front of the barn.

“Shel was practicing guitar up in the loft while I worked, but she snapped a string. She was, uh, pretty upset about it.”

All I manage is a nod.

“We had a good chat, though,” Jacinthe adds. “I, ah, never told you this, but I play a little guitar. I’m gonna help her re-string it and give her some tips for playing. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, of course,” I assure her. “That’s awesome. Thank you so much.”

She presses her lips together in a guilty look.

“I hope you don’t think I was hiding it,” she says. “I should have offered to help her sooner. I’m just, uh, not the best at guitar, and I don’t tell a lot of people I play it. They usually laugh. I guess it is funny: me playing guitar.”

She gestures up and down her body and laughs, like she’s aware she doesn’t fit the stereotypical musician’s demeanor.

“Actually, I thought you would be more surprised,” she says.

“Your mom told me,” I admit, before I can think better of throwing Gabrielle under the bus.

Jacinthe growls, but there’s at least a tinge of fondness to the sound.

“Câlice,” she grumbles. “The woman can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

We stand there scuffing the dirt with our feet as a few moments of awkward silence tick by.

There’s been more of those lately, ever since we kissed. When we’re talking or moving or keeping ourselves busy, things are fine, but in the silence and the stillness, the memory of what’s passed between us hits like the first drops of rain before a storm.

I know what her mouth tastes like.

I know what her lips feel like when they move against mine.

I know the sound she makes in the back of her throat when I graze her skin with my teeth.

She clears her throat and smacks the tops of her thighs.

“Ben, I’m gonna go get that string for Shel.”

She spins on her heels and begins marching up the path. I stare at the line of her shoulders until she pauses and turns to look back at me.

“You coming?”

“Oh. Right. Yes.”

I jog to catch up with her, and we fall into step beside each other.

“You okay?” she asks when we’re almost at the front porch.

“Yes,” I say, just a little too quickly. “I just, um, really appreciate this. Really. Thank you.”

I stop at the bottom of the steps. Jacinthe shrugs and gives me a small smile.

“It’s no trouble. The strings were just gonna sit in my closet.”

I shake my head. “It’s not just the string. You’re helping her with playing too, and…”