Page 124 of Something Tattered
Right. The tools.I glanced around the storage unit. I saw oversized plastic bins, along with dozens of cardboard boxes, stacked nearly to the ceiling. I was dying to wade through the mess in search of more paintings. There had to be more, right?
Pushing that distraction aside, I turned back to Joel. "Just to make sure I understand…" I pointed to the covered painting. "You painted that on your own, I mean without copying anything?"
"That's what I said." His eyes were wary, and his muscles were tight. "What are you getting at?"
"It'sreallygood."
He didn't even smile. "Thanks."
He didn'tsoundvery thankful. In fact, he didn't sound pleased at all. I studied his face. "Why are you acting so funny about it?"
"Because it's private."
"Oh." The words felt like a slap, and I drew back, widening the distance between us.
Yes, I realized that I'd uncovered the painting without his permission. But in my defense, I'd assumed that it was covered for protection, not for privacy. It was a simple misunderstanding, and yeah, a mistake on my part.
Even so, his comment stung.Private, huh?
I recalled everything I'd told him yesterday about the estate and its problems. I hadn't done that with anyone else, not even Cassie or Aunt Gina. As far astheyknew, I was doing just fine. But Joel knew the whole truth – the wholeuglytruth, including the fact that I was broke.
That was private, too. But I'd shared it, anyway. And now, he was acting like I'd just been caught scrolling through his cell phone or cripes, rifling through his wallet.
How humiliating was this?
Chapter 56
Sitting in the passenger's seat, I gazed out the car window as the landscape zoomed by. There was something I needed to say, but I didn't know how to begin, or even scarier, how the conversation would end.
Already, my stomach was tied up in knots. Who was I kidding? I knew exactly how it would end.
Badly.
I didn'twantit to end that way, but with Joel's current mood, I couldn't see any other possibility.
With lingering dread, I gave him my third or fourth sideways glance. He hadn't said more than a few words after closing the storage unit and getting into the driver's seat of his car, onlyafterholding open the passenger's side door for me.
It was such a crazy mix of contradictions – the old-fashioned chivalry combined with his simmering silence. I still didn't get it. And the way it looked, he wasn't remotely interested in explaining.
Deciding to get this over with, I cleared my throat and said, "Hey, Joel?"
He didn't even look. "Yeah?"
"I've been thinking…" I hesitated. "I really don't think you should do this for me."
Still looking straight ahead, he said, "Do what?"
"The repairs and stuff. I just don't feel right about it."
It was true. I didn't. It was a funny thing, accepting favors. Sometimes it felt alright, like when there wassomechance of doing a favor in return. But other times, it just felt wrong.
This was one of those times, and I couldn't quite figure out why. But Ididknow that I was feeling strange and awkward about the whole thing.
Plus, I didn't want to owe him. Cripes, I already owed him – too much, in fact. There was no need to add to the list, right?
In the driver's seat, Joel said nothing in response. He didn't look. He didn't twitch. He didn't even change his expression.
I waited a few more seconds before saying, "You heard me, right?"
