Page 10 of Slow Burn
As silly as it may have sounded, I often wondered if the breeze that wrapped around me could somehow be her letting me know that even though she wasn't with us anymore, she wasthere?
The wind picked up again, the strands of my ponytail fluttering beside my face. I was in the middle of brushing the wisps of hair when and odd sensation washed over me. A tingle started at the base of my skull before slithering down my spine.
Is someone watching me?
Twisting, I scanned my surroundings. Mr. Stevenson, a seventy-something-year-old retired teacher, lived to the left of me. We'd been neighbors for as long as I'd lived here, and not once had this feeling come over me.
My gaze shifted to the right. Mr. Personality's house. It was quiet, eerily so. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone's eyes—his eyes—were on me. Goosebumps popped up all over my skin, a shiver working its way through my body.
Awareness settled deep in my bones, and I couldn't take it anymore. My feet started moving, hurried steps taking me to the safety of my home. I slammed the door shut behind me and made sure to click the lock in place.
It wasn't that I was afraid of the broody man living next to me but rather the intense feeling that'd washedover me at the mere thought that he'd been watching me. I liked it a lot more than I should have.
Exploring those kinds of feeling usually led to nothing but trouble.
Trouble I definitely didn't need.
5
ADAM
"You're sure you're all right? We can be there by tonight."
I closed my eyes for a brief second to try and compose myself before opening them again. There really was no need for my mom to see my irritation. Plus, I had almost three years' worth of shit behavior to make up for.
"I'm sure, Mom." My voice was tight. I tried to add a smile for good measure. Because those particular muscles hadn't had a workout for a while, it felt weird. I could only hope I looked mildly happy and not constipated.
My mom's eyes flicked to my dad, who was sitting to her right. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt. We still had a lot to get used to. Before I left Sault Point, our meetings consisted of me either yelling at them or giving them the silent treatment. There hadn't been an in-between.
"So, uh—" My dad dragged a palm along the back of his neck. "How are the renovations coming along?"
My gaze drifted to the unfinished deck beyond the open sliding doors. Just as quick, I shifted my attention back to the computer screen in front of me. "It's slow going, but it's keeping me busy." When I first saw thisproperty, it hadn't been the price or even the view that'd convinced me to buy. It was the sheer amount of work it needed. If I kept busy, I wouldn't have time to wallow in self-pity.
My dad nodded tentatively, his eyes darting back and forth over what I presumed was something in his lap. Our entire exchange was damn awkward, and I had no one to blame but myself.
"I still—"
"Do you—"
My dad and I spoke at the same time. Shifting in my seat, I scratched the scruff on my chin. "You go first."
"Do you think you'll go back?"
Before I could say anything, my mom jabbed my dad's ribs with her bony elbow. His thick, gray brows pulled together while he glared at her. "What the hell was that for, Mildred?"
Her gaze rested on the scars along my neck for a few beats too long before she turned to my dad again. Because I only had a side view of her face, I couldn't see the full extent of her expression as she furiously tried to wordlessly convey something to my dad.
Her eyebrows were jumping about while she twisted and pursed her lips. All the while, my poor father was staring at her with a perplexed look on his face.
"It's okay, Mom," I finally said. "I honestly don't know if I'll ever go back." The words left a thick unwanted lump in my throat. I had to swallow it down before I could speak again. "I miss it. A lot. But I'm no good to anyone in this condition."
"Oh, Adam."
The look on my mom's face was too much. I hated the pity and sadness I saw there. When would they realize that the life I was living was one of my own making?
"I…uh… gotta go." There was no hiding the strain in my voice. "I'll call again next week. Same time?"
Mom's shoulders rose and fell with the deep drag of air she took. Her mouth opened and I held my breath. I knew it was hard for her to see me like this. Hell, it was hard for me too. But this was my reality and it didn't matter how many times she, or anyone else, told me things would get better, I knew different.
