Page 50 of Every Heartbeat After

I don’t turn away from him. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll forget that I’m trying to prove a point, and we’ll be right back where we started in no time flat.

“Good night, Kit,” I say through gritted teeth.

He chuckles darkly, lifting one arm to tuck his hand beneath his pillow so he can stare at me over the slope of his bicep. “Good night, shnookums.”

It takes forever for me to actually fall asleep. And when I do, it’s only because Kit wiggles his way across the divide and folds me against him.It’s one night,I reason. And we’re only cuddling. Come tomorrow, with a little distance, I’ll be right back to standing on firmer ground.

Half-awake, I swear I feel his lips brush my forehead, but by then I’m too far gone.

ChapterNineteen

Kit

The early afternoonair sits on my skin like a damp washcloth. Sweat pools on my upper lip, my hairline. In the bends of my knees and the hollow of my spinal column. Dad swipes a shop rag across his forehead and grunts in disgust at the wet mark it leaves on the faded red cotton. He and I watch from our place on the rickety front porch as Mom and Tess say their goodbyes, hugging like old friends. Mom tucks her into the passenger seat of my rental, waving at her through the condensation-coated window once the door’s shut.

Dad lets out a gruff laugh. “That woman could make a friend out of a houseplant in about five minutes, I swear.”

I nod, amusement ticking my lips into a smile. “Yeah. Tess, too.”

“She’s a good one, Kit. Lot better than that ex-wife of yours.” Dad rests curled fists against his leather belt. Even in this heat, he’s wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-down he got at the Walmart in Pascagoula. If he hiked up his pants leg, I bet there’d be tall white socks damp with sweat coating his calves. “How long you two been dating, d’ya say?”

“We aren’t.” Tess and I lock eyes through the windshield, and she lifts a brow. I smile and hold up a finger, letting her know it’ll just be a minute. “We told you guys that when we first arrived. Tess is my friend.”

Dad scoffs. “Poppycock. I know my son.” He claps my shoulder, and when Mom clocks it on her approach, she smiles. Out of the corner of my eye, I note Dad returning the gesture. “You got feelings for that girl. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“Oh, is he still on about that?” Mom chides. Her hair has formed a shape that is neither curly nor straight, just big. She retrieves a claw clip from the hem of her blouse and pins back her bangs. The porch groans beneath her weight, and I glance down at the sagging boards.

“Y’all ought to fix this before it caves in on you.” I kick the nearest board with the toe of my shoe. “You’re getting too old to risk it. Might break a hip.”

Mom swats me on the chest. “You hush with that nonsense.”

Dad’s forehead crumples beneath lifted brows, but he doesn’t glance at me directly. “Sure’d be easier to fix it if my sons came around more often to help.”

My chest throbs like it’s been cut open. I cross my arms over it to stop the bleeding, but all it does is increase the amount of sweat flooding my shirt. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

My thoughts drift to lying next to Tess last night. Beyond the feel of her leg straddling my hip or her breath hot and blustering against my throat. Instead it’s her words that settle over me, cooling me as if they were made from ice water. We’re not the kind of family to talk much about our feelings. There’s no part of me who thinks now, on this front porch, is the time to air all my grievances about Gage, my fears about letting my parents down. But how many times do they have to lament my absence before I accept what Tess implied? That perhaps they aren’t as disappointed in me as I may have led myself to believe.

Mom hooks an arm around my hip and lays her puffball of graying hair on my shoulder. “We just love you, Christopher. I know it’s been hard on you since everything with Courtney, and that you and Gage don’t get along much these days, but is it so bad that we’d love to see you more often?”

“Your mother almost bought plane tickets to see you this coming Christmas,” Dad mutters.

I glance down at her, eyes wide. “You’re terrified of flying.”

She shrugs. “I’m a desperate woman. I’d do it for you.”

My lungs seize, suddenly unable to take on air. I wrap her in my embrace, cradling the woman who once cradled me. “I promise I’ll come down. Don’t waste your money on me. I’ll be here for Christmas, if not sooner.”

Dad pats my back gently, right above where Mom’s palm rests against my spine. “Better get on, son. Even with the AC, that sun’s probably baking your lady.”

I bite back a rebuttal that she isn’t my lady; partly because it’s a wasted argument. Partly because, despite everything, she sure feels like she is.

“Love you both.” I plant a kiss on Mom’s forehead. As she pulls away, I turn to Dad, biting back all the words Ishouldsay and instead slapping a hug against his shoulder blades. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Better be. Don’t make me hunt you down,” he warns, but there’s amusement in his dark gaze.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I step off the porch, onto the loose dirt of their walkway, and wave once more. That heavy feeling still sits like a pit in my chest, but it’s lighter now, if only infinitesimally so. “Bye, y’all.”

“Bye, baby!” Mom folds into Dad’s side, smiling at me with sun-warmed cheeks and a few tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. It’s an image that burns itself into my brain, a snapshot I’ll hold on to forever. I file it away right next to the one of Tess, laughing freely with white-blonde hair whipping around her face, the whole of the Gulf at our feet.

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