Page 32 of Under My Skin

Chapter Thirty-Two

EVERETT

Lucy hesitates before following me toward the staircase. Her eyes land on a small box, still sitting on the floor under the window. “Do you want me to grab that?” she asks, suddenly looking less confident than she has all night.

“Sure,” I say, surprising myself. It’s just a box, mostly filled with scraps of paper, but I’ve become more protective of it than anything else I own.

I usually leave it at my mom’s house, but after going there today, I needed to bring it here.

I needed a small semblance of my dad in my future home, even if he’s been reduced to chicken scratch on slips of paper.

Lucy gingerly picks up the box, her hand resting firmly on the lid like she might be carrying the man’s actual ashes. “Stuff of your dad’s?” she asks as she gently hands it to me.

I nod and open the lid, shuffling through a few of the items. “Mostly old birthday cards and random reminders he’d leave for himself around the house.” I reach for one of the small sticky notes with his all-caps handwriting .

CALL JACOB

“I still have no idea who Jacob is.”

Lucy laughs, and the sound brings a smile out of me. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled while holding this box.

CHANGED OIL 6-23

I hold the note out for Lucy to see. “He had this next to where he kept the bike parked in the garage. At least I knew when to change the oil again.”

A soft smile pulls at her lips, followed by a pinch of her brows. “Wait, that’s his bike?” She points her thumb over her shoulder toward the alley down below.

“It was,” I say, relieved the past tense word doesn’t knock the wind out of me. “He’d probably have a few words about me leaving it outside all the time, but I like riding it. It makes me feel like I’m . . .” I glance at her, and she’s hanging onto my every word. “I don’t know,” I backtrack.

“It makes you feel closer to him?”

I nod.

“Then I think he’d love that.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I mutter, “Thanks.” I’m not used to talking about this with anyone, but it kind of feels good to talk about him.

I think it helps that Lucy never knew my dad well.

My memories can remain mine when I talk to her.

She can’t add to them or give her two cents as far as how and why things happened.

She just listens, and the fact that she doesn’t try to fix what I’m feeling makes it easier to feel this way in the first place.

“His keychain?” she asks as she picks up a worn leather tag with an embroidered M.

“Yeah.” I take the small metal ring and tag from her hand, flipping it over in my palm so the letter faces up. “My mom gave it to him when he first got the bike. He always had it on his key.”

She frowns. “But you took it off? Even though you have the same last name?”

I brush my thumb over the leather, feeling the divots of my last initial. “I want it to stay like this. The way he had it.”

She tilts her head to get a better look. “Can I take a picture of it?”

I glance at the keychain in my palm again. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Inspiration.”

“Uh, sure?”

“Thanks.” Ignoring my obvious confusion, she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of the keychain resting on my palm.

Once she’s done, I put the keychain away and place the lid on the box. When I meet her stare again, her eyes are scanning my face. There’s subtle concern laced in her features, but it’s not enough to make me think I’ve said something wrong. She just looks like she cares.

Without saying anything, she pushes up on her toes and kisses me.

I’ve kissed her so much tonight, but somehow this one feels different.

She isn’t trying to turn me on, and she isn’t kissing me because she’s turned on.

This one sends a completely different message, and I don’t think I realized how alone I’ve felt in my grief until now.

She breaks the kiss, lowering back onto her heels, and I’m left speechless. If I were to say anything, I think my voice might crack. So instead, I lace her fingers in mine and kiss the back of her hand before leading us out of the apartment and down the stairs.

She doesn’t argue when I hand her my jacket this time.

She doesn’t say anything about the color of my bike not being safe.

She doesn’t even hesitate before setting the box down to pull on the helmet.

When she mounts the bike behind me, her grip is relaxed. She holds the box with one arm and me with the other.

It’s such a small shift, but I notice. I notice the way her hands don’t shake and how she doesn’t flinch when the engine turns over.

I notice the way her breathing stays steady and the way she rests her head against my back instead of keeping it on a swivel.

They’re all small things, and it might be a stretch to think I’m the only reason for any of them, but having her trust feels like a gift.

I know Lucy said we could keep this between us, but I’ll have to talk to Simon about it.

He’s been too good of a friend to keep something like this from him.

Hell, he’s been like family. As anxious as I am thinking about his reaction, I’m more content on the drive back to his apartment than I have been in a while.

There are hardly any cars, the moon is bright overhead, and all I’m left with is Lucy holding on to me, her thumb gently brushing my chest where she has her hand.

By the time we reach the apartment, my hand is on hers.

Not to prevent her from touching me like last night but because touching her might be my new addiction.

I don’t let go until I need to back the bike into the parking spot, and even then, I rest my hand on her thigh as I look over my shoulder and maneuver into the space.

I cut the engine and help her down. Her feet land on the pavement more gracefully this time, and when I take off her helmet, I say, “Riding on the back of a bike just might suit you.”

“I guess with you it’s not so bad.” A grin teases at the corner of her mouth, and it brings my own to my lips.

Taking off my helmet, I dismount the bike and tuck it under my arm. “Tired?” It isn’t too late. Maybe ten.

She shakes her head. “Not really. I figured we could watch a movie or something.”

“Just don’t let Simon pick.”

Her smile widens as we walk toward the apartment. “Apparently, there’s a certain Spider-Man movie I need to see.”

I give her a sideways glance. “Are you sure? I’d hate to bore you with a superhero who isn’t hot.”

“Well,” she says, skipping ahead of me. “If I start watching you more than the movie, you’ll know that’s the case.” She spins on her heels to check for my reaction, a playful smile teasing the corner of her mouth as she walks backward, still gingerly carrying the box of my dad’s belongings.

I huff a laugh and scratch the side of my head. What have I gotten myself into?

She turns back around. I don’t know how she does it, but just watching her happily make her way to the apartment door eases something inside of me.

I don’t think I even realized how discontent I’ve felt before her.

Because there’s something about Lucy in her oversized cardigan that makes me feel like anything is possible.

“What are you smiling about?” she asks as she waits for me to unlock the door. Wiping a hand over my mouth, I chuckle. “I don’t know. You, I think.”

She gives me a funny look like she might want me to elaborate, but her attention shifts as soon as I unlock the door and swing it open.

“Well, well, well.” Simon’s voice comes from somewhere in the dimly lit apartment. “About time you showed up.” Leaning forward in the living room chair, he cranes his neck so he can see me as I set my keys down and step inside. “What have you two been doing?”

Lucy is awfully quiet behind me, but I don’t look at her to check for her reaction. Taking a seat on the couch, I shrug. “She had those ideas about the shop, and I wanted to get her take on things. Why? Did you miss us?”

“You’d know the answer to that if either of you assholes checked your phone.” He doesn’t sound angry, but there’s a slight edge to his voice. He looks at Lucy. “I thought you were going to stay at Mom and Dad’s or something when I didn’t hear back from you about needing a ride.”

Lucy pulls out her phone and plops down on the furthest end of the couch I’m on.

“There’s no way I could stay at that house.

” She looks up at both of us. “You know, it’s hard to be angry with them while I’m around them, but as soon as I leave, I’m fuming.

” She winces as she taps on her phone screen.

“I see your texts now. I’m sorry.” She turns the phone toward Simon, and on the glowing screen I see multiple missed messages from him on their text thread.

“Sweet of you to offer the car, though.”

Simon frowns. “What are you still mad for? They told you what they’re doing. No more secrets.”

Lucy gapes at him. “But they didn’t tell me. I showed up, and they were forced to come clean. And their reasoning for it all? Do you actually buy any of it?”

He shrugs. “There’s nothing for me to buy. They’re splitting up, that’s it.”

Her eyes widen. “But for what reason? The why behind it all is so important!”

Simon’s brows furrow. “No, it’s not. It’s not going to change anything. What do I care why they’re doing this? The point is that they are, and it sucks, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Lucy sucks in the side of her cheek, biting her tongue. I know there’s more she’s dying to say. She wants Simon to be enraged with her, but that’s not how Simon operates. She’s alone in this fight.

“So, what’s the plan for the shop?” Simon asks, closing the door on all talk of divorce.

Lucy is still staring at him like she might be holding back angry tears, so I answer instead.

“Picked a paint color for the apartment that I think might look good downstairs in the shop, too. I pulled up some of the flooring in the back corner of the shop, and it looks like the hardwood is still under the laminate. So, Lucy’s vision is possible, but if we do it ourselves it’s going to be work.

” My eyes jump to Lucy. “And it depends on how long she plans on staying.”

She blinks, her divorce induced rage dissipating. “You want me to stay?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone,” I say with a laugh.

I had planned on showing her what I found when she was there earlier tonight, but one thing led to another, and that didn’t happen.

“I can ask the other artists, but they all have full schedules. We’d have to wait a week to do it when the shop is closed.

I don’t expect you to stay for the whole renovation, but we could use this week to clear everything out and come up with a plan I can follow.

Do you think a week is enough time for a new logo? ”

“A week,” she says to herself, her eyes widening.

I know it’s longer than she planned on being here, but I wasn’t exactly planning on asking her to extend her stay either—not until she came up with an idea to give the shop a facelift.

And after tonight, I don’t hate the thought of her staying a little longer.

Simon laughs and looks at Lucy. “Damn, a week? I don’t think you’ve been here that long since before you moved.” He stretches back against the chair. “That’s a lot of Copper Ridge for someone who got out.”

“You make being here sound like a sentencing,” I say with a breath of laughter.

“Isn’t it?” Simon asks with a grin.

“No,” I answer easily. “Copper Ridge has everything I could ever need.” I mean it.

I love this town. It’s part of why I included it in the name of the business, but my eyes still jump to Lucy.

She doesn’t react, but I can’t help wondering if my last statement is still true.

Because as soon as she leaves, Denver might have something Copper Ridge doesn’t.