Page 4 of Under My Skin

Wait, did I just say that out loud?

“Daddy, that’s a bad word. You can’t be saying that, remember?” Addy looks mighty proud of herself for confirming that I did, in fact, say that out loud.

“Yes, Addy, you’re right. We don’t say bad words.”

For the twentieth time today, I wonder why I decided to move back to my hometown. I clearly wasn’t prepared for all it entails.

Looking at the girls covered in mud kind of answers that for me.

Living in a high-rise in Chicago would have never given them the chance to do this. I wanted to give them a childhood filled with making messes and freedom and family. My childhood was the best. My sisters and I loved every second of it. I want my girls to have that too. They need it. They deserve it after all they’ve been through.

So, I put my frustrations aside and look at the big picture, knowing this overwhelming stress won’t last forever.

I take a deep breath to reset. I need to go to Red’s Hardware Store so I can fix my busted pipe, and I need to get the girls clean so I can get them in the car to go. But I can’t get them clean if the water needs to stay off before it floods the house.

Fuck.

Yeah, the deep breath didn’t work. I’m in a mood again. I turn around and face my very hot neighbor, hoping I’m not overstepping just because we live next door to one another.

“You free for half an hour, Lizzie?”

She moves her head up and down in response but doesn’t say a word.

“I had to turn the main water line off because a pipe burst upstairs in the bathroom. Would you mind watching the girls play in the mud some more while I run to town and get what I need to fix it?”

Lizzie nods again. “Of course, I can,” she finally spits out.

“Thanks. You have no idea how much you’re helping me out right now.” I turn to the girls. “Be nice to Miss Lizzie, and don’t get into trouble, okay?”

When they both nod, I go inside to grab my keys and wallet from the kitchen counter.

Lizzie is next to the girls in the yard now when I make it back outside. I try not to look her up and down—and fail—as I thank her again and tell her I’ll be quick. She’s wearing a pair of frayed cut-off shorts and a baggy old concert T-shirt with more holes in it than I can count. It shouldn’t be sexy, but it is. Every gap in the fabric is exposing her creamy skin underneath, and I can’t help but think about how soft it must be and imagine running my hands over it.

God, I must be really pathetic or really horny if the sight of a square inch of skin is making my blood pump south.

Considering it’s been a while since I’ve had sex and I don’t really have the privacy to jerk off that often because of the girls, I’m going with horny.

Ridding any thoughts of Lizzie’s skin from my mind, I jump in my truck and drive off the farm. Within ten minutes, I’m driving on Brantley Falls’ main road that leads into the town center.

I’ve been a bit of a homebody since moving back, and I know I need to get out more, but damn, being met with pitying looks and constant condolences puts me back into the hole that I’m trying to crawl out of. I know they mean well. I get it, I really do. I just don’t want to be reminded that my dad is gone when I have to get groceries or gas or when I’m just grabbing a bite to eat with the girls at Beth’s Diner.

Being back on the farm is hard enough. Everywhere I turn, I see him. Everything is a reminder that he’s gone. My best friend. The best dad in the world. The man I strive to be for my girls—the dad they deserve. It just doesn’t seem to be getting any easier.

I need to file this underthoughts for another daysince I have bigger issues awaiting me at home if I don’t get this pipe fixed.

After parking in front of Red’s Hardware Store, named after the owner Walter, who has bright red hair and just decided to stick with the nickname he was pinned with as a kid, I steel my spine and mentally prepare myself.

Before I even get across the sidewalk, I run into Karen Crosby. We briefly dated in high school, but I seriously don’t have the time or patience for her today.

“Hey, Cam-Cam.” She sidles over in her skintight dress and red lipstick, looking like she’s going out to a club on a Saturday night. It’s Tuesday afternoon, for God’s sake.

I keep my stride long, showing no sign of slowing down so she understands that I’m in a hurry and don’t have time to chat and blurt out, “Hey, Karen.”

She then proceeds to ignore my body language and comes to stand in front of me before I can make it to the door. I inwardly wince.

Fuck me. I can’t catch a break today.

“Slow down, Cam-Cam. Let’s talk for a minute. We haven’t had a chance to catch up since you moved back. You wanna go grab a beer or a glass of wine so we can chat?”

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