Page 18 of Wild Child
“That’s fine, I can explain, or it’s fine that I surprised you?”
Lines formed between her eyebrows. “Both, I guess. If you want a chance to explain, I’ll give it. I have to work until four, but you can come to the shop then. We’ll go out on the lake. I still have the boat. We can talk there.”
Relief tripled through me. “Thank you.”
She lifted one eyebrow. Behind her, Kimball’s eyes bored into her back. I ignored him.Yeah,I wanted to say,you definitely have competition.
“All right.” I nodded. The air conditioning made goosebumps prickle on my arms. “I’ll see you at the back of the Frolicking Moose at four.”
Ellie nodded, then brushed past without another word. Kimball stared at me from across the room before I nodded to Jax and left with a mental middle finger in the air, pointed right at Kimball.
5
Ellie
Cool water lapped against my ankles as I shoved the old canoe halfway into the lake. A short rope would keep it from going anywhere while I watched for leaks. It was the first time I’d brought the canoe out this year.
In three years, actually.
The sound of tires on gravel followed shortly after I’d satisfied my curiosity that we wouldn’t sink and drown. My lips twitched. Sinking had happened once, actually, when I was fourteen and Devin was fifteen. We took an old canoe out, it sank halfway out of the peninsula, and we had to swim back together. He tried to convince me he was manly enough to give me a piggyback rideandswim back to shore, but almost ended up killing both of us instead.
A car door shut and drew me from the memory. Feet approached with the crunch of gravel under shoes. My heart fluttered a little knowing Devin would be there. I straightened as a tackle box and fishing pole landed in the canoe. When I looked up, he had a lopsided smile.
“Figured I might as well.”
I couldn’t help but half-heartedly return it. He looked so goofy. So boyish. He stopped to roll up an old pair of jeans that fit his narrow hips well. An old t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, a bit too tight. Likely one he’d found at home and tried it on because his laundry wasn’t done, I’d bet. He’d put on at least twenty pounds since I’d last seen him, but it had all been mass. Devin had seemed strong and indomitable in high school, but he was puny then compared to now.
“Ready?” I asked as I put the paddles inside.
He rubbed his hands together. “Been waiting all day.”
After I pushed the canoe out the rest of the way, I climbed in. He gave us another little jolt, then leaped in behind me with smoother agility than I’d expected. We assumed our childhood positions with me at the front, him at the back. The canoe rode lower in the water than last time with his bulkier weight, but felt more stable. We faced out to the reservoir and began to paddle.
For almost twenty minutes, nothing but the glide of smooth water beneath us could be heard. The sounds of Pineville disappeared as we rowed out in silence to the empty, still heart of the reservoir. My heart lay heavy in my throat. I both dreaded and anticipated what he would say. For years I had tried to understand what led him to the decision, but it had all been questions.
Until he could explain it, I’d never truly know. Now, it seemed surreal that I’d soon understand the machinations behind the hard years at my back.
“Can we try here?”
The sound of his voice in the silence was like a gunshot. Drops of water splatted my back as he pulled his paddle in. I nodded and did the same. While he flipped open his tackle box and started to rummage through, I grabbed the bag I’d stowed. After I removed my flip-flops and set them aside, I turned around to face him. I’d been a coward in the tree before, but not this time.
The sun felt hot on my skin, countering the still, cool water, chilled from snow run-off in the highest mountains. Sunglasses hid my eyes, which made it easier to study him while he worked. He seemed at ease. His face was smooth and movements intent. He didn’t stammer or try to make small talk. He never had.
Out here, like this, without the clutter of Pineville around us, he seemed to be the old Devin. So much so that I half grinned when he muttered under his breath about a missing lure. I reached behind me, grabbed my own tackle box that I’d hidden under my bag, and passed it over.
“I raided yours.”
His head lifted. He looked at me, then the tackle box, and back to me.
“After you left.” I motioned to his box with a hand. “I raided it. All your best lures are in here, I would bet.”
A quick grin took me by surprise. “Took all the good stuff, I see.”
“You deserved it.”
He laughed, then dove into my tackle box. The tension eased while he prepped his line with the lure and fresh bait. The smell of earth and worms and slime filled the air like a reassuring memory. Minutes later, he cast the line. It flopped a few feet away.
“Embarrassing,” he muttered as he reeled it back in.
