Page 51 of Outlaw Heartstrings
“Oh yes, you were,” he challenges.
“Easton…” I scold him. “You can’t just go around smearing my reputation like that.”
He comes and lowers onto the arm of the chair where I’m sitting. His body heat and the musk of his cologne surround me. “Redeem yourself, then. Let’s go!” He stretches an arm out to me. When I hesitate, he wiggles his fingers persistently. “Come on, Tiny Tiger.”
Jagger’s face twinkles with anticipation. “Do it, Mimi!”
“Fine.” I sigh.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I reach out and clap my palm against Easton’s. And there’s that electric current sizzling between us again. I immediately fumble the next move as I try to remember the handshake Easton spent weeks trying to teach me in our younger days.
He laughs and starts us over from the beginning. “Remember? It’s like this. Then up, over, squeeze, shake, and then snap.”
We try our special handshake again. Then again. But I keep messing it up. I’m so damn embarrassed.
“It’s not that hard, Alba,” Easton scolds.
“I’m sorry!” I giggle as we try again. We get all the way to the shake, but I somehow end up smacking him instead.
“Ow!” he complains, now unable to stop laughing as I reach up and rub his poor, prickly cheek.
“Oh my gosh. Sorry,” I apologize.
Rolling his eyes, he curls his long, calloused fingers around my short, cold ones. We start over, but I’m still messing up, mainly because the feel of his rough palm against my own hand is screwing with my head.
“Hey, Dad!” Jagger calls out.
Both jolting, we glance in the child’s direction.
“Can I get a turn?” He beams at his father.
“Sure, Buddy.”
I slide my hand from Easton’s, and he and Jagger give it a go. It takes the little boy a fraction of the time it took me to learn the steps. Within mere minutes, he has it down pat.
Not long after that, I catch Jagger’s first little yawn of the night. The next one isn’t too far behind.
“I think we should call it a night,” I say, reaching over to ruffle the top of his messy head.
He tries to argue, but Easton promises him that they’ll get to hang out again soon.
Jagger and I get our stuff all packed up, taking some leftovers with us. Knowing I won’t have to cook tomorrow night already feels like a weight off my shoulders.
While I set the containers on the front passenger seat, Easton and Jagger share a tight hug in the shadowy driveway.Then my nephew climbs into the back seat of my car, buckling himself up.
I’m starting to realize that whenever I see Easton, saying goodbye to him is the hardest part. I’ve developed this tendency to drag the moment out, making it awkward and heavy with tense energy. Tonight is no different.
After lingering together by my passenger door for a minute, Easton speaks. “It was nice, reminiscing about our high school days.”
“It was,” I say in agreement. I pause, my volume dropping low. “I always wondered if that hand signal was intended for me.”
When I see the blush that appears on Easton’s cheeks, I instantly wish I hadn’t mentioned it.
But he doesn’t shy away from the topic. “I promised you…” He looks off into the distance. “I did that hand signal on and off for years, never even knowing if you were watching my games…not knowing if you’d forgotten me…” There’s a pained tone in his voice. “But I’d promised you, so I did it anyway.”
I swallow. “I was watching…I wasalwayswatching…”
We stare at each other. A million thoughts flood my mind. Thankfully, I have the good sense not to say them out loud.
