Page 73 of Class Clown

“Next time I need comfort, I’m picturing this place,” I said, reaching with my free hand to lightly caress the long meadow grasses with my fingertips.

“My dad took me camping a lot as a kid. He always sought out the primitive places like this. He’d love it here.”

We paused again, and I watched his profile as he took it all in too. His expression was the most relaxed I’d maybe ever seen it. His thumb ran along the underside of my wrist and I had to work not to react outwardly to the soft touch.

“It’s only you and your dad, right?” I asked.

He nodded. “My mom passed when I was a toddler. I have no memories of her, only pictures and occasionally a story. My dad is pretty quiet about it.”

“What was her name?” I asked.

“Sofia Rossi. She was Italian and met my dad when he was stationed in Europe. He said it was a whirlwind, which is hard for me to imagine because my father is very logical and orderly and slowwww.” He chuckled as he drew out the word. “But they married quickly, and had me within the year, and then she passed. He never remarried.”

“She must have been beautiful.” He glanced my way with a question in his eyes. “At least I’m assuming that’s how you were born as a beautiful human.” He flushed and looked away and I wanted to tease him out of the embarrassment. “Which means I’m assuming the terrible personality comes from your dad.”

He looked back with a smirk, and I was happy he took it for the tease it was. “Yes, we’re both wallflowers.” I laughed and he squeezed my hand.

“Are you close with him? Being just the two of you?”

His head tipped back and forth. “We get along, but we don’t dive deep. Cole calls us surface talkers, and that’s okay. Life with him was quiet, but calm.”

“So, he’s not all up in your business like my family? He doesn’t know your deepest fears and your biggest joys?”

He pulled a face. “We talk occasionally. He knows my favorite foods and keeps up with where I am and what I’m up to, which is more than a lot of people can say about their fathers.” He tugged at me again. “Come on, let’s go shoot something.”

We had to lift our feet high as we moved through the overgrowth, and I was grateful for his steadying hand, even though it was still making my heart beat extra hard. I realize that a lot of men think nothing of hand-holding, and Nico had been so casual about it that Icould only assume he felt the same. I, however, had watched Mr. Darcy grab Elizabeths’ hand about a thousand times in the 2005 version of the Pride and Prejudice movie, and I was having to remind my head that this was not a declaration of interest on Nico’s part.

“So, did you move around a lot?” I asked him, gripping his hand tightly.

“Yeah. I was lucky that I was able to do all of high school in Texas,” he said. “Meeting Cole was a big deal. I hadn’t had many friends until him.”

“Yes, the fate of the introvert.”

“Exactly.”

“Our family must have felt really intense for you.” I laughed. “Neither of my parents have any volume control, and Cole’s pretty outgoing too.”

He shook his head. “It felt like your house was alive. I loved it.”

“Did you actually talk to my other family members? Am I the only one you were shy with?”

“I talked to Cole. I listened to your mom, and dad. I didn’t see much of Porter.”

That made sense seeing as I was mostly out of the house by then, and Porter was long gone.

We reached an area that was than the rest and stopped walking as Nico looked at the targets and seemed to be deciding where to set up shop. I wasn’t sure he remembered that he was holding my hand, but I didn’t mind. It was nice. Companionable with some sizzle.

“I never disliked you, Ruby,” he said suddenly, tearing me out of my daydreams. “And I wasn’t trying to freeze you out or something.”

I looked up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay. So can we consider that topic settled?”

I nodded and he released my hand as he shrugged out of his backpack and gave me a rundown of his plans. The next ten minutes or so were spent with him giving me basic gun handling instruction, along with safety procedures. I listened carefully, having been raised with a healthy respect for firearms. Also, as a nurse I’d seen gunshot victims during schooling and training and had no desire to see one again.

We made our way over to the targets to judge their structure and were happy to find they were still holding up. After another few minutes of tearing away at grasses that had grown around them, we worked our way back to our backpacks and then guns.

I’m not sorry at all to report that I don’t know what type of gun I used. I just knew it slammed against my shoulder harder than I expected and I took a step back. Nico was right behind me, and he placed his palms against my shoulder blades, keeping me upright as I squealed and held tight to the barrel. I totally missed the target. I put the safety on and pointed the gun to the ground before turning to Nico.

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