Page 49 of Fire Island
I spin on my heels and smile up at him. “Sure. How’s it coming along?”
“Slow.” He pads across the grass at my side.
The wind plays with my hair, the sunshine warms my skin, and my lungs fill with life-affirming fresh air as my hand brushes his.
I try not to let the way the small touch spreads like lightning through my entire body affect me. The way my breath hitches at the tiniest contact.
He doesn’t seem to notice. As we reach the bike now standing on the grass with tools littering the ground around her, he squats. I kneel close to his side and follow his hand as he points out the task I’m assigned. “This bolt here. If I hold the nut with the wrench on the other side, can you tighten it all the way?”
He passes me a tool I’m sure is a socket driver or something.
“Yep, I’ll do my best.”
He rounds the bike and secures the head of the wrench to the nut. “Okay, tighten her up.”
I slide the socket over the head and turn it to the right.
Righty tighty, lefty loosey.
I learned it from my dad, I think?
Not that I spent a lot of time fixing stuff with him. I was always inside with my head in a book. This one I remember, most likely because it rhymes. The bolt turns, revolving its way into the hole it was built for. Cal’s grip on the wrench hardens when I reach the last bit. Each turn is tougher than the last, and the tool slips in my hand. The small spot I had to slide my hand into doesn’t allow for much visibility.
I reaffirm the head of the socket on the bolt and drop to my seat, squaring up with the task like it’s my opponent. I send the socket around once more. With it as tight as I can get it, I stretch up to look over the seat of the bike. Cal’s messy hair is all I see. “That’s as tight as I can get it.”
“Good. Thanks.” He looks up, removing the tool from the bike, and for a moment we stare at each other over the worn and cracked leather of the bike seat.
Neither of us speaks, so I return the tool to its grassy bed and push to my feet. “Let me know if you need any more help,” I offer with a smile.
“Thanks, Eve.”
“Sure thing.” I shove my hands in my back pockets, wishing this awkwardness between us would simply disappear.
Knowing it won’t until his memories return, I wander back to the greenhouse to finish up my chores. Watering, weeding, and then collecting anything ready for harvest for tonight’s dinner. It’s just like before. But at the same time, it’s not like before at all.
With a basket full of wonderfully fragrant produce, I pad to the house and into the kitchen. I start the process of washing and sorting the food in the refrigerator. Bending over, I replace the container with tomatoes and shift the root vegetable container to one side.
“You’re finding your way around well enough, then?”
I startle, rising and hitting my head on the inside of the refrigerator. “Shit.”
I rub my head and turn back to find a shirtless Cal leaning on the counter, sipping from an enamel cup. He wasn’t there when I came in.
“Damn, you scared me.” I push my glasses up my nose and pull my T-shirt down as his gaze travels my body.
His jaw feathers, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Dinner plans?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, what did you want to cook for dinner? I’ll leave the veggies out.” I wave to the basket behind me, still half full of produce.
“Anything’s fine. You cooking?”
I stare at him. “I?—”
“Don’t cook?”
