Page 11 of Under My Skin

Chapter Eleven

LUCY

“What’s your plan?” Everett’s voice is calm and quiet from the recliner, and I wonder what he must think of all of this.

He seems like he doesn’t want to get involved, which I guess I can understand.

But at the same time, I can’t help wondering what he’d do if he were in my situation.

I doubt his mom would ever keep him in the dark about something for so long, and his dad .

. . Well, his dad was a saint from what I remember.

I only ever really knew him in passing, but our parents seemed to get along well enough.

His dad always had this fun-loving energy about him.

He was affectionate with his family in a way that a lot of men hold back from.

I remember him hugging Everett—like a real hug, not a one-armed squeeze—when Everett was well into high school.

The memory dissipates as I refocus on my brother’s best friend.

I wonder how he’s doing. I had been living in Colorado for a few years when his dad passed, and I didn’t know his father well enough to fly home for the funeral.

Simon went, of course. I’m not positive, but I’m sure my parents did, too.

“I don’t really have a plan,” I admit. “I guess I’ll just go there in the morning and see what they’re doing—see if they’ll open up once I’m standing in front of them. ”

Everett nods, but it’s Simon who says, “I’m on call in the morning. Public Works never sleeps, but let me know if you want some company, and I’ll try to help.”

Looking at my brother, I give him a weak smile.

“Thanks.” I don’t like the idea of facing them alone.

Having them keep this secret makes a simple visit more like two against one.

But if I show up with Simon at my side, they’ll immediately know that I know.

Going alone lets me give them one last chance to come clean without outside pressure.

Part of me is tempted to ask Simon what other details they’ve told him, but I think it would only make me feel worse.

If he knows where they plan on living after they sell, if one of them will move out early, and if either of them are already seeing someone new, I’ll feel worse.

Whether it’s from anger or sadness, the last thing I need is to get upset on my brother’s couch with Everett watching.

Another uneasy moment of silence passes between us as we finish our meals, and I wonder what they’d be doing if I weren’t here. Would they be laughing? Watching a movie? Playing video games? Am I the Debbie Downer who’s crashing the party with my sad mommy and daddy issues?

“Do you guys want to put on a movie?” I ask in a desperate attempt to make this night feel a little more normal.

Simon gets to his feet to throw away his takeout container. “Sure. What movie?”

Everett follows his lead but stops in front of me where my half-eaten Sesame Chicken sits on the coffee table. “Done?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet mine as he reaches for the small plastic container.

I nod. “Thanks.”

As he walks to the kitchen he says to Simon, “You pick something.” He glances back at me before adding, “And make it light.”

Great. Do I really look that fragile? Like I can’t handle watching anything that might make me feel ?

On second thought, something light might be good.

Simon peeks over the open fridge door to look at me. “You know what I’m going to suggest.”

I can’t see Everett from here, but the groan that comes from him makes me laugh.

Everett sighs. “I don’t know how I forgot he’s like this.”

More laughter bubbles in my chest. “Yeah, do you even know my brother at all? Why would you leave him in charge of picking a movie?”

Everett comes back into the living room after securing my leftovers in the fridge. This time, there’s a slight quirk to his lips. “To be fair, I’ve only been here a month. I don’t usually live with him. He could have grown out of this.”

“Wishful thinking,” I muse, and Everett flashes me a genuine smile that robs the air from my lungs.

Simon finishes in the kitchen and comes back to the couch with three beers, their glass necks carefully balanced between his fingers. “Look, Role Models is the best comedy of all time. You’ll never convince me otherwise.”

I try to conceal my tight-lipped smile as he hands me one of the bottles. “I mean, you’ve seen it more than anyone else. You would know.”

Everett chuckles at my comment and making him laugh might have just become my new mission in life. I glance his way, my smile widening.

Simon hands Everett a beer. “Come on, man. Back me up.”

Everett holds his hands up in surrender, the neck of the bottle secured between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, I’m fine with watching it. It’s a funny movie.”

Simon finally takes a seat, but the way he’s upright and on the edge of the cushion lets me know this conversation isn’t over. “The best comedy of all time.”

Everett laughs before taking a sip. “I’m not saying that.”

Simon shifts to turn toward me. “Lucy. ”

“Simon, just put on the movie. I’m always up for watching Paul Rudd tell that woman she’s stupid in three languages.”

He enthusiastically sets down his beer and reaches for the controller. The gaming console comes to life, and he quickly finds the movie, already knowing exactly which app has it available.

Holding up his hand as if to block Simon out, Everett says to me, “He’s going to say all the lines.”

I nudge my brother with my foot. “Don’t you dare ad-lib this entire movie.”

He pushes my foot away without looking at me and presses play. “You two should be more appreciative of the quality entertainment I bring to the table.”

“He’s right, you know.” I gesture toward the screen and look at Everett. “Where would we be without Minotaur?”

“Probably on drugs,” Everett answers without missing a beat, and my chest warms in appreciation.

Crossing my legs beneath me, I settle into the cushion with my drink.

For maybe the first time since Allison got married and left me for newlywed bliss, I’m having fun at home—even if it isn’t my home.

There’s something about sitting on my brother’s couch and watching his favorite movie with his best friend that has me content.

There’s no yelling for me to drown out with noise cancelling headphones.

No mess that feels like it’s my burden to clean.

No reason to lock myself in my room with my cat.

As the thought hits me, a fluffy tail flicks into view as Pudge braves it into the living room.

Since I arrived, he’s been perfectly happy hiding under Simon’s bed with his litter box and food close by in Simon’s bathroom.

He’s a calm cat, but I wouldn’t call him a seasoned traveler.

I figured it would take a few hours for him to relax and want to show his face.

Clicking my tongue to get his attention, I wiggle my fingers to call him over. Pudge looks between the two guys in the room before picking up his pace and bumping his head against my waiting palm .

“Hey, buddy.” My voice is quiet as I let my fingers sink into his soft fur. I work my way down his spine, and he arches into my touch.

Simon pats the couch next to him with a few loud thumps like he’s summoning a Golden Retriever. “Finally going to let me pet you?”

Pudge’s ears go flat at the sound of the noise, but as soon as I scratch him again, he’s happy.

With a light laugh, I shake my head. “You know nothing about cats.”

Simon takes a sip of his beer. “Because I don’t like cats, but I figure now that I have one as a house guest . . .” He looks at Pudge before tipping the neck of his bottle toward him. “Cheers.”

Pudge saunters a few feet away to bump against the side of Everett’s armchair, still happily purring from all the love he got from me.

Without much of a glance, Everett lets his arm casually fall over the side of the armrest, his long fingers weaving into Pudge’s fur as he roughly scratches and massages his back.

I expect my cat to run at the contact, but he doesn’t. If anything, his purring gets louder as he struggles to find a balance between the attention being too much and wanting to go back for more.

Everett settles deeper into the chair so he can keep his hand on Pudge while he watches the movie. Looking over at me, he flashes a small smile. “I think he likes me.”

“He hardly lets anyone touch him,” I say with a bewildered shake of my head. It took weeks of Allison living with me for Pudge to finally let her pet him—and a few more weeks of that before he actually looked like he enjoyed it.

Everett peeks down at the cat before resting his other arm behind his head and refocusing on the movie. “Nice.”

He says it so simply, but I can hardly focus on the movie’s opening scene.

All I can do is stare at Everett’s fully tattooed arm draped over the side of the chair, his fingers like a shadow weaving through Pudge’s cream and brown fur.

I mentally trace the lines of his tattoos, studying the intricate designs from the geometric shapes poking out from the sleeve of his shirt to the spider nestled between his thumb and forefinger on the back of his hand.

A spider.

I suppress a shiver at the sight, like the thing might start wiggling all eight of its legs. Why in the world would anyone get that? He has to look at it while he’s eating.

I shift my legs beneath me to give me a better view of my mock tattoo.

Could I really go forward with it? My eyes dart in Everett’s direction again, but this time, they’re locked on Pudge.

I love my cat, but would I ever regret having him on my body?

Forever? I try to imagine myself as an old woman with a sleeping Pudge still curled up on my ankle.

Will I want to get every pet I ever own tattooed on me?

The decision that felt insignificant a few hours ago, suddenly feels like the fork in the road that could lead me to being an elderly cat lady with all her cats’ names and faces tattooed on her body.

I internally cringe at the thought and wonder if it’s possible to regret a tattoo before you even get it.