Page 47 of What He Always Knew

“You’ve been in the sun,” I noted, taking another sip through my straw. His skin was a golden tan, a beautiful bronze, the color of caramel.

“Spent the day on the beach after we were cut loose today,” he answered.

His voice was thick and a bit raw, like he hadn’t slept. I felt his eyes on me, but I kept mine on the bar — on his arm, my arm, how close they were, how much space they’d have to cross to touch.

“Speaking of which, I thought you hated the beach.”

“I do,” I confirmed. “But I love margaritas.”

I took another large slurp, and Reese chuckled, his forearm leaving the bar next to mine for a second before returning. I imagined he ran his hand through his hair, or perhaps scratched an itch on his jaw. He’d let his beard grow in a bit over the weekend, just a little scruff. I wanted to touch it, too.

“It kills me, you know,” Reese said after a moment, his voice low. “Watching you right now, knowing there’s so much on your mind, so much that’s hurting you.”

I stopped drinking, but kept my lips on the straw, my feet still kicking under the chair.

“I wish I could crawl inside that mind of yours and face all your demons for you.”

My heart squeezed, but I shook my head on a laugh.

“They’re some mean motherfuckers.”

“I believe that,” he said quickly. “But, I’d fight them, anyway.”

I propped one elbow up on the bar, leaning my cheek on my palm as I finally turned to face him. His face was just as tan as his arms, his nose a little red at the tip. I met his eyes, another roll of thunder sounding in the distance as I watched him.

“Why do you care?” I asked. “About me, I mean. I never talked to you after you left Mount Lebanon, not even when everything happened…” My stomach twisted. “Why do you still care about me?”

Reese smiled, his gaze falling to where his hands rested around his glass before it rose up to the thatch ceiling of the bar. “Why does rain fall in the desert? Why are diamonds made from dust?” He shrugged. “Some things just are, Tadpole — no matter how difficult or impossible the circumstances.” His eyes found mine again. “I care about you because there is no other choice for me, and I love you the same.”

Butterflies buzzed to life in my stomach at his words, and I smiled, nudging him with my knee under the bar.

“Such a poet.”

“And I didn’t even know it,” he added with a grin, but it fell quickly, his eyes searching mine. “Talk to me.”

I sighed, sucking down the last of my drink before signaling to the bartender that I’d like another. I knew the hangover in the morning would likely kill me, but it was worth it to numb the pain tonight.

“You might need a cigarette.”

“I quit.”

I frowned. “You did? When?”

“The day after you asked me to.”

I thought back to the Sunday we’d spent mostly in his bed, the ending of our one and only weekend together. He’d lit a cigarette after we’d made love, and I joked about him needing to quit.

I couldn’t believe he’d actually done it.

My eyes traveled back to where the bartender was mixing my drink.

“I’m sorry I locked you out last night,” I said first, my voice as unsteady as the ice floating in my new margarita. “It’s just… it’s all so much for me right now. I can’t think straight. Nothing makes sense. And the things you said, the truth of them, I couldn’t handle it.” I shook my head. “Cameron has been talking to me more.”

Reese took a sip from his glass. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I know you don’t want to hear this, but we had an amazing weekend together. He came back to me,” I said, and then I shook my head. “No, it was more than that. He came back, but he also showed me layers of him I’d never seen before. We talked about how he felt after we lost our boys. He let me in on how it affected him. And we laughed, Reese.”

“You deserve to laugh.”