by Noelle Adams
Matthew glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even two yet. “Nah. I can stay. I don’t mind painting, and it will go quicker with three people.”
“’Kay. I’ll text her now. Then maybe we can grab something to eat in the house. I’m about to starve to death.”
Matthew watched as his friend sent the text. “Great. I’m hungry too.”
As they went to the house, Matthew felt a little better. Not quite so bothered by Skye’s absence. There was no particular reason she needed to be around today. It was simply that she usually was. And it was strange that she wasn’t today—like something wasn’t quite falling into its proper place.
But she would evidently make an appearance soon.
Not that it mattered to him.
HE AND TYLER WENT TO make sandwiches and polish off a bag of chips in the main house. Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux sat in the kitchen and chatted with them as they ate. Matthew had always liked them. Mr. Devereaux had taught him shop and how to drive, and Mrs. Devereaux had been his principal during his senior year. They were pleasant and intelligent and had always treated him like he was part of the family.
Since Matthew’s own parents were kind of distant, he’d liked the novelty of being around parents who asked about his plans and interests and daily activities.
The time went quickly, and forty minutes later Matthew kept checking his smartwatch, wondering when Skye would arrive.
How far away had she been that it was taking her so long to get there?
“Well, I guess we should get back at it,” Tyler said after taking his last swig of Coke. He turned to look at Matthew. “Ready?”
“Sure. So you don’t want to wait for Skye?”
“Oh, she’s already over there. Texted a while back.”
Matthew frowned. Why hadn’t Tyler mentioned this? They’d been sitting over here on their asses while Skye had already started to work. He couldn’t figure out a way to mention this error of judgment without making a big deal about it—which he was sure would be a mistake—so he kept his mouth closed.
But still... It would have made sense for Tyler to tell him earlier that Skye was already there.
He saw her Gran watching him from her rocking chair as he stood up and pushed his chair in. She looked knowing. Amused. He had no idea why, but it gave him a hot flush of embarrassed vulnerability.
He hated, hated, hated feeling that way. Young. Exposed. Even in the most minor of ways. He’d spent his life trying to control his circumstances so he could avoid that feeling.
He wanted to scowl at Skye’s grandmother, but he managed to resist the urge. He might sometimes feel like an asshole, but he tried not to ever act like one.
When they walked out, the first thing Matthew saw was Skye’s little red car parked near the converted outbuilding. He lengthened his strides and got to the door before Tyler.
Skye was indeed inside, painting the far wall. She wore jeans and a green tank top. She’d taken off her shoes and a plaid shirt she must have been wearing over the tank. Without volition, his eyes ran up and down the back of her body, lingering on the way the snug denim molded her rounded ass, the smooth, bare skin of her slim arms. Her hair was piled up messily in a clip, but for some reason he noticed a long strand that had escaped and was sticking to the graceful column of her neck.
His whole body tightened, which was absolutely ridiculous. Maybe it was just the fact that he was seeing her from behind. She suddenly looked like a gorgeous, sexy woman instead of the little Skye he’d always known.
“Um, you wanna move your ass, man,” Tyler said from behind him, alerting Matthew to the fact that he was blocking the doorway.
“Oh. Sorry.” He swallowed and stepped aside, his eyes still drawn to Skye across the room. She hadn’t even turned around.
She still didn’t as she said brightly, “Hey there! What took you guys so long?”
“We’ve been working all day,” Tyler grumbled. “We had to eat something.”
Matthew waited for her to turn toward him, smile at him, give him one of those big-eyed, adoring gazes that proved he was special. She didn’t.
“Okay. I guess that’s allowed. It’s looking good in here.” She finally turned her head with the last words but only to look at her brother. As if the compliment were directed at him alone.
When it was Matthew who had planned the whole space and done half the work.
“Yep,” Tyler said, leaning over to dump some paint into a tray. “It’s really coming together.” After a minute, he added to Matthew, “You gonna stand there like a doofus all day, or are you gonna actually help?”
Matthew frowned, feeling another faint flush that hopefully didn’t show on his face. “Since you’re getting free labor out of me, you really think it’s smart to call me a doofus?”
Tyler laughed with his typical nonchalance. “Hey, the place is already mostly done. Figured I could take the risk.”
Skye giggled and glanced over at Matthew, finally meeting his eyes.
He couldn’t help but smile back. There had always been something bright and alive and shining inside her, brimming over with her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her voice.
It warmed him. Made him feel better. Like the world had gone back to the way it was supposed to be.
He grabbed a roller and started to paint.
THEY WORKED FOR A COUPLE of hours and got a lot accomplished. Tyler had done most of the edging, and he and Skye were doing the rolling. They were on the final wall when Tyler got a call from his girlfriend. They’d evidently had a fight the day before, so he took the call outside, leaving Skye and Matthew alone.
They were painting only a few feet away from each other.
Skye had been perfectly friendly the whole time, responding to anything he said. But she’d seemed different, and she hadn’t looked at Matthew as much as he thought she should.
Something felt off. He didn’t like it. It left him feeling rattled. Frustrated. Like she wasn’t really noticing him. Matthew knew he wasn’t any sort of Prince Charming or sex god, but he was a decent-looking man. He was smart and had a good job. He’d always been kind of reserved, so he wasn’t much of a flirt or a player, but still... Plenty of women had been interested in him. Skye had always adored him.
This simply didn’t feel right.
Maybe she was into someone else. She’d done a lot of online dating over the past few years. None of it had been successful, but maybe she’d finally landed on someone she liked. Maybe she was serious about him.
Maybe she’d finally left Matthew behind.
The possibility made his stomach twist. To discover information he needed to know, he asked, “You okay?”
She turned from the wall and blinked at him. “What?”
“You okay? You seem... I don’t know... quiet or something today.”
She huffed, her expressive face wry. “You’re complaining that someone else is quiet? You, who never lets anyone in the world know what you’re thinking?”
She knew him really well. Better than he’d realized before. “Well, I’m always like that. You’re not. You just seem different today.”
“I’m fine. Just in a quiet mood or something.” She was focusing on rolling paint onto the wall again.
“Any reason for that?” He didn’t know why he was pursuing the conversation when she obviously wanted it to be over. He was normally quick to pick up clues of reluctance or disinterest. He’d never in his life pushed his way into a conversation or situation where he wasn’t wanted.
“No. There’s not.” That answer was as definitive as anything could be.
Matthew didn’t feel like he could ask again, but he wanted to. Something was going on with her, and he had no idea what it was.
The silence between them lasted a little too long, and it was full of a tension that he wasn’t used to feeling with her. To dispel it, he said the first thing he could think of to say, “It’s nice of you to help with the painting.”
She shrugged. “He
’s my brother. Why wouldn’t I help? You’re the one who drove all the way out here from Richmond and gave up your whole Saturday to help.”
“It’s not that long a drive from Richmond. And I don’t mind. I like to do things.”
She slanted him a quick look, but he couldn’t read it. That bothered him too.
Everything was bothering him today.
Skye glanced around the nearly painted room. “This place is looking good. Tyler is going to be really happy to move in. He’s getting tired of sleeping on Bill Wilson’s couch.”
“Yeah. I’d imagine. This place isn’t big, but it should be pretty comfortable. I’m not sure why he wants to live so close to his parents, but I guess it’s better than a couch.”
Skye frowned. She never hid what she felt—something he’d always found comforting—so it was obvious she didn’t like something he’d said. “Why shouldn’t he live close to his parents?”
“No reason. Just, he’s not a kid anymore. Personally, I’d prefer a little more space.”
Her frown deepened. Clearly he hadn’t managed to smooth over whatever had ruffled her feelings. “I’m not a kid anymore either, and I live in the same house as my parents. You think something’s wrong with that?”
“No! No, no, no.” He suddenly realized what he’d said wrong. “I didn’t mean that. It’s different with you. I just meant...” He trailed off because he had no idea what he’d meant.
“Why is it different with me? I’m twenty-six. You think I’m still a little girl who is supposed to live with her parents?” She didn’t sound angry. Not really. Just confused and defensive.
“No!” he burst out. He was not a loud person. He almost never raised his voice. But he felt frantic all of a sudden. “Of course you’re not a little girl. Just when you moved in with your parents, you didn’t have a job and couldn’t afford a place of your own. That’s what I meant by being different.”
“But you’re wondering why I’m still living there. You think something’s wrong with it?” Skye had stopped painting. Her blue eyes were huge and deep and convicting.
“No, of course not. There’s nothing wrong with it if that’s what you want to do.” He paused. Heard himself asking, “Do you really like living with them?”
She shook her head, whatever had been tense before now relaxing. He could see it in the softening of her chin and her shoulders. “No. Not really. It’s hard.”
“So why not move out? You’ve done so well with the flower shop that I’m sure you could afford to.”
He’d been as skeptical as anyone when Skye and her friends decided to rebrand the flower shop with a new direction, but he’d clearly been wrong. They’d done remarkably well. Second Chance Flower Shop was incredibly popular in social media—which was all because of Skye’s talents—and they had to be making good money from the business now.
“I can. I will. I want to move out. But Gran needs me right now.” She’d started to paint again.
Matthew was just holding his dripping roller. “You could still help her if you lived in your own place, couldn’t you?”
“Yeah. Sure. But it wouldn’t be the same. It won’t be forever.”
“You should do what’s right for you.”
Her eyes flashed again. She’d always been like quicksilver, shifting between emotions in a flash, coming alive without warning. “What’s right for my family is right for me.”
“Okay. Okay. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t make me mad. It’s just that some people don’t forget that their families exist just because they’ve reached a certain age.”
Matthew grew still. “Was that aimed at me?”
She shrugged, rolling paint on the wall. “When was the last time you visited your folks?”
“Last year. They’re in Florida. I can’t see them all the time like you do.” The stab in his chest he recognized. Knew as guilt. His body and demeanor all stiffened in defense. “It doesn’t mean I forget they exist.”
“I know that.” Skye didn’t seem remotely fazed by the coolness of his voice.
“They’re fine. They’re not even sixty yet. They don’t need my help.”
“Still, maybe they’d like to see you.”
“Where the hell is all this coming from?” he demanded.
She lowered her roller and turned to face him. “It’s not coming from anywhere. It’s just a conversation. It seems like you think being an adult means pushing away everything and anything that makes you feel young.”
He stared at her, feeling like he’d just been skewered with a lance. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. I can’t fly to Florida every weekend to visit my parents, but I still come to Azalea all the time.”
“Only to help with projects. Never just to visit. Not even to visit your own sister. Why is that?”
He stared at her. Tried to answer. “I... don’t know.”
Skye glanced away, as if she were suddenly uncomfortable. “Anyway, that’s all I’m saying. Living at home isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
Matthew was suddenly terrified. “Does Madeline want me to visit more?”
Skye turned back to him. “What?”
“Madeline? Is she... upset? Does it bother her that I don’t—?”
“Oh, oh.” Skye’s pretty, freckled face softened into a smile, which immediately relieved the weight of fear in his chest. “I think she’s fine. She loves you and knows you love her. But that doesn’t mean the principle isn’t valid. There’s more to life than doing things, you know.”
Matthew didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer. He’d never had anyone tear him apart the way Skye just had. He had no idea how to handle the feeling of complete vulnerability.
But he didn’t like it.
Skye had evidently moved on from her crush on him. He wasn’t sure she even liked him anymore. She evidently believed him to be a selfish asshole who never opened himself up to family or relationships or real emotion.
Maybe he was.
Clearly he wasn’t special in Skye’s eyes anymore. He didn’t know when the change had taken place or what had prompted it.
He didn’t know nearly as much about Skye as he’d always believed.
The whole world felt different now. Strangely cold and a little bit lonely.
Skye didn’t adore him anymore.
Not that it mattered to him.
At all.
Two
“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE you yelled at Matthew,” Madeline said three weeks later as she sorted through dresses on a rack at a small regional department store in a town not far from Azalea.
Skye had been looking at dresses on another rack, but at that she whirled around. “I did not yell at him!”
Madeline laughed. Her gray eyes were just like Matthew’s, and right now they were warm and teasing. “I know. I know. You just spoke to him sternly.”
“It wasn’t sternly.” Skye’s cheeks were growing hot for no good reason. “It wasn’t anything really.”
“Well, whatever it was, it had a big effect on Matthew. It’s still nagging at him weeks afterward.”
“He really talks about it?” Skye had gone with Madeline and Ria to look for new dresses to wear to a reunion party at their old high school the following weekend, but she’d completely forgotten about shopping for the moment.
The amusement faded from Madeline’s face. “No. Of course not. You know Matthew. He wouldn’t open up about what he’s feeling to save his life. But every time the conversation even hints in your direction, he’ll ask about you. He thinks he’s being subtle, but he’s not.”
“He asks about me?” Skye’s heart was starting to hammer.
“Yep. Just casually, but something’s definitely prompting it. He never used to do it. I’m sure it’s because he’s upset about you telling him off.”
“I didn’t tell him off.” Skye felt a little like huffing, but she w
as also strangely gratified. She wasn’t used to having the things she said make a big impression on other people. She was more used to being metaphorically patted on the head. “I don’t think I was really mean about it. So you think he’s upset about it?”
Madeline shrugged. “Who knows with Matthew? I’m sure you weren’t mean. But I think whatever you said to him must have struck a chord.”
“Do you think I should apologize?” Skye was serious. She didn’t think she’d said anything wrong, but she also didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Particularly Matthew’s. She’d always sensed a secret fragility hiding underneath his strong, sober, unflappable demeanor.
For no particular reason, she remembered one day back in high school. She was walking into school when she saw Matthew arriving with a cast on his wrist. Being her (and with fewer boundaries since she’d been very young), she’d gone over immediately to ask him what happened.
He’d said he broke it falling off his bike the previous evening. She’d asked a bunch more questions and slowly discovered that he’d gone home with his injured wrist and told his mother he’d hurt himself. She’d been busy baking for a community event and told him to check with his father. His father had been busy working in his home office and told him to get his mom to take care of it. Madeline hadn’t been able to drive and hadn’t been home that evening anyway.
So Matthew had driven himself to the hospital with a broken wrist.
The memory hit Skye so hard and so suddenly that her vision blurred over briefly. She could well believe that Matthew hadn’t expressed to his parents how badly he was hurt. He’d been quiet and unnaturally composed even as a kid. But still...
Someone should have cared enough to take him to the hospital. It had really upset her when she’d first heard the story—although she’d had to drag the details out of him—and it upset her again now.
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings,” she whispered.
“I’m sure you didn’t. There’s not a mean bone in your body.” Ria stepped closer, holding a pretty red dress that would look gorgeous with her long, dark hair and slim figure. “If you’re worried, you can just check in about it with him. He’s still coming to the reunion, isn’t he?”
