Page 4 of Under My Skin

Chapter Four

EVERETT

My fingers ease off the throttle with one hand and squeeze the break with the other before coming to stop behind Simon’s Sportster.

He leans against his bike with his arms crossed, waiting.

I’ve known Simon for most of my life. His blonde hair and familiar blue eyes have been carved into most of my memories growing up.

He was there when I started kindergarten, and he was there when I graduated college.

He was there when my parents freaked out about my first tattoo, and he was there when I got what might be my last . . . after my dad passed.

My dad’s handwriting is permanently scrawled on my forearm, woven between the other tattoos covering my skin.

Some mean something, others don’t. Some were thought out and planned for, while others I got on a whim.

But using my dad’s handwriting from a card he gave me when the shop first opened, gutted me.

Seeing the words, “You’ll do great things,” poking out from above the mountaintops I got to represent my hometown, always stops me in my tracks.

I haven’t been able to get another tattoo since.

That was just over a year ago. I glance down at my arm while I secure the kickstand even though my jacket hides the art inked there.

I hope my dad is right. I want to make him proud, even if he isn’t here to see it.

Shaking the thought, I take off my helmet and run a hand back and forth over my hair to loosen the strands.

Simon stands upright and heads toward me. “About time you showed up.” A wide grin stretches across his face. He tilts his head playfully when I take too long to answer. “Uh-oh, another home improvement project got you down?”

I wince at the reminder. “Why did you have to bring up the apartment?” Hal and his guys managed to get the water on in time for us to open the studio like he agreed, but this entire project has been one thing after another. I’m sure he’ll uncover something new for me to lose sleep over soon enough.

Simon’s expression shifts into a shitty attempt at feigned innocence. “What’s wrong with asking about the apartment?”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t do that.”

He laughs, and it’s contagious enough to pull a smile from me.

“Keep it up, and you’ll be the one paying for Hal’s next discovery.”

He scoffs. “No way. I’ve already paid my dues.” He claps me on the back before putting an arm around my shoulder and walking us toward the front door. “In fact, I’m still paying them.” His arm falls from around my shoulders as he reaches for the door to Boom’s Brewing Company.

“Yeah. Thanks for that.” He’s right. Without his help, doing this renovation would feel ten times more like a juggling act than it already does. My options were to either get help from him or temporarily move in with my mother.

My mother has enough to worry about.

Inside, the taproom is full of life. There’s food being run from the kitchen, staff behind the bar are making sure they have the perfect glass for the different craft beers on tap, and a live band is playing “Up Around the Bend” by CCR.

Simon and I grab a high-top table near the front window, and a girl with light brown, wavy hair walks up to greet us with a wide smile. “Hey! Do you guys know what you might like, or do you need a minute?”

“What are your dark beers?” Simon asks as his eyes briefly wash over the paper menu in front of him.

The girl taps her pen against the small pad in her hand.

“Hmm . . . we have two.” Using her pen, she points to one name on the menu in front of him.

“This is our dark chocolate raspberry stout.” She moves her pen to another name on the bottom left corner of the page.

“And this is our signature coffee oatmeal imperial with a hint of vanilla.”

Simon grins. “I’ll take that one.”

Both sets of eyes wander to me, and I realize I should have figured out my order sooner. Glancing down at the paper list in front of me, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ll take the hazy IPA.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have those right out for you.” The girl’s smile warms before she spins on her heels with more energy in one finger than I feel in my entire body.

Looking back at Simon, I’m met with a curious expression. “Since when do you drink IPAs?”

Never. I never drink IPAs, but my dad did, and for whatever reason, I’m in a funk today. “I can’t try something new?”

“You can . . .” His words are casual, but his eyes still linger on me with a hint of suspicion before I can practically see the lightbulb glowing beneath the surface.

“Wait a minute. Did you panic because you like her?”

I laugh. “What are you talking about?”

Simon lowers his voice and leans in across the table slightly. “The girl who took our order?”

“No.” I shake my head, still laughing. “Not even close.”

He doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “Aw, come on, man. You got me excited for a second.”

The server brings back our drinks, and Simon and I thank her. He waits for her to walk away before continuing. “When’s the last time you’ve been on a date?”

I take a sip and try my best to control my face when the bitterness hits my tongue. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I want to know.”

My fingers tap the glass. Simon doesn’t have a girlfriend right now, but I wish he did. He doesn’t have time to pester me about relationships when he’s in one. Eventually, I shrug. “Maybe it’s been a while.”

He nods. “Yeah. It has been.” Leaning his head to the side in a not-so-subtle nod toward the bar, he adds, “Which is why you should maybe put yourself out there more.”

My eyes narrow, and without looking at the girl again, I say, “She’s too young.”

“Says who?”

A dry chuckle leaves my lips before I force myself to take another sip. “Me.”

He sets down his glass. “No way. You’re twenty-nine. You might be pushing old, but you’re not too old.”

“We’re the same age,” I deadpan.

He takes another sip and nods. “Sure, sure, sure. But I’m fun enough to keep me young for a while.” He smiles after the jab and takes another sip.

Maybe he’s right. I had a serious girlfriend for years. Jen and I met our senior year of college and dated for a while after. I figured I was as good as settled down, but things changed last year.

Apparently, I pushed her away. Who knows, maybe I did, but it wasn’t intentional.

I was busy, and grieving, and it felt easier to throw myself into the shop than deal with everything else.

Ever since she left, I haven’t wanted to date.

Losing her and losing my dad in the same year was a lot—even if they were different losses.

“Now that Kate and I broke up, we could be each other’s wingman, you know.” He wiggles his eyebrows like this will somehow seal the deal .

“I don’t need a wingman. I need a functional apartment and more customers than I know what to do with.”

“And you will .” Simon emphasizes the last word, dragging it out. “But you can still have a little fun along the way.”

He wiggles his eyebrows again, and I can’t help laughing. “Later.”

With a roll of his eyes, Simon mutters, “Fine.” Taking another sip, he sits up straight. “By the way, Lucy is coming into town this weekend.”

The name pulls a string of memories to the forefront of my mind.

Nothing specific. Mostly just eating in the same kitchen or watching the same TV, but Lucy was always there.

I’ve only seen her a handful of times since she left for college a few years ago, but I can still imagine her blonde hair secured in a ponytail while she clutches a book to her chest.

She and Simon are five years apart, so I had the pleasure of watching them go through all the typical sibling phases.

She idolized him, then she annoyed him, and eventually he annoyed her.

The two couldn’t be more different. Simon was sneaking out so I could practice tattooing on him, while Lucy was acing exams and turning down invites to parties without a second thought.

Scratching the side of my jaw, I ask, “How did she take the news?”

He scoffs. “Not great, but it’s not her fault. They still haven’t told her.”

I blink, my hand freezing for a moment before dropping. “They— what? ”

Simon just shakes his head like he’s the disappointed parent in this situation. “Mom told me Lucy knew, so I brought it up as if she knew.” He pauses to take a sip. “She did not.”

“Still?”

He gives a solemn nod. “According to Lucy, still.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “What the hell are they thinking?”

“Who knows? I tried calling and asking, but Mom quickly got overwhelmed by tangled yarn and needed to go.” When I hold his gaze, he adds, “I’m not joking.”

“Good ole Leslie,” I muse with a low laugh. Finishing off the last of my beer, I check the time. “Hal told me to pick a paint color for the apartment, so I have to figure out what to tell him. Any plans?”

Simon mirrors me in tossing back the last of his drink. “Not tonight. I told Lucy I’d pick her up from the airport, but she won’t tell me what time her flight gets in.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t she tell you?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s still processing everything. Maybe she wants to see my parents first so she can get answers.”

I set my card on the table. “Hopefully she gets them.” When he goes to do the same, I shake my head. “I’ve got this round.”

Without hesitating, he smiles. “Thanks, man.” He bought me more than enough rounds when I was going through my shit last year. Even if Simon isn’t upset about the divorce, the least I can do is return the favor. I owe him a lot more than this beer.