Page 91 of Common Grounds

“You hear anything from her yet?” Mike asks around a couple of nails perched precariously between his teeth. He shifts on his ladder for better access to the building.

“Nope.”

He starts banging a nail into the window frame. “She still writing that last article?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to her,” I say through gritted teeth.

Mike hums and nods, unfazed. “Well, she probably has to,” he says after a pause.

I drop my arms to my side, and the lights fall at my feet. “Do you have a point, man?”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t lose his grip on his string of lights. “Just making conversation.”

“Well, can you make conversation about literally anything besides the woman who broke my heart?” I pick up the lights that I had dropped in a huff.

“The wound is still a little fresh. I hear you. Message received.” He pounds another nail into the window frame and hangs a section of lights, then does it again. “Have you called her?”

This time, I throw the lights down on the ground like a child having a fit. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

He shrugs, which manages to piss me off even more. “If it’ll help.” Then, he smirks. “I know you’re capable of it now, bro.”

“I swear, Mike. You’re my best friend in the whole world, but do not test me today. I just want to get through this godforsaken week and move on with my life, hopefully with some more money than I had before.”

“No worries, man.” He hammers again. “I’ll back off.”

“Back off what?” A woman’s voice comes from behind me. I turn around to see Cass standing there, hands on hips and belly pointed at me like a weapon.

I try not to groan. I knew she was coming back, but it’s so hard to see her when she shares DNA with the only woman I want here right now.

I must not have hidden my reaction to her arrival very well, because she hums disapprovingly. “Nice to see you, too,” she deadpans. “I take it you haven’t heard from my sister either.”

I shake my head. “She hasn’t called you?”

“She messaged once to say she needed to focus on this last article and was going dark. That was yesterday morning. Nothing since then. She could be dead in a ditch somewhere, and I’d have no idea.”

“She’s not, though,” I say. “Dead.”

She pins me with a look that says I must be even more of an idiot than she thought. “No, Trevor. She’s not dead. She’s hiding behind that article and pretending like she’s not exactly as sad and lonely as you are.”

“Hey—” I start to protest, but Mike claps a hand on my shoulder to silence me.

“Let’s call a spade a spade.” He squeezes, then releases it.

I look between the two of them, both staring at me expectantly. When they make no move to talk, I scoff. “Fine. But there’s nothing I can do about it. She hurt me. She doesn’t want to talk. I’m giving her space. And these lights aren’t going to hang themselves.” I turn my back to both of them and start vigorously pounding tiny nails into the window frame.

“You two have more in common than I thought,” Cass mutters.

I pause my hammering. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re both going to hide behind menial tasks and pretend like you’re not broken inside and pining for each other.”

I tilt my head, regarding her for a second. “You think she’s pining for me?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to her,” she reminds me pointedly. I go back to hammering as she adds, “Once, when we were kids, she borrowed my favorite necklace. It looked like an amulet. It was purple, my favorite color. I loved that thing. But she had a purple sweater that matched it, and she wanted to wear it. So, I let her. The clasp broke, and it fell off. She had no idea she even lost it until right before the end of the school day. She sat far away from me on the bus. Ran upstairs and closed the door to her room. Stayed in there for days, pretending to be sick, until our mom made her come out and tell her what was wrong.”

She stops there, and her gaze falls to the ground. She takes a moment before she shrugs her shoulders and bounces her head back and forth as if shaking off something, then looks back at both of us.

When it’s clear she’s not going to continue, Mike frowns. “I assume there was a point to that story?”

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