Page 18 of The Tomorrows After You
Suddenly being outside in the open air made me feel incredibly vulnerable.
Cherry hung up and stalked toward me.“That’s fine, please stop. My husband is on his way,”she said, almost like a warning.“I don’t need y—”
“Oh, my God, Cherry Mitchell!”Nicolette’s voice sounded different. It was so high, almost patronizing. Leaping down from the passenger side,her long legs hit the pavement andfuck, she looked good jumping down from my truck. My dick twitched, and I cursed it under my breath.
Nicolette intercepted Cherry Mitchell’s charge toward me and gave her a big hug. Cherry looked confused.“Nicolette Parker.”She touched a hand to her chest to remind Cherry who she was.“I went to school with your daughter, Lanie? Wasn’t she the captain of the cheer squad? Oh, my goodness, you look sogood!Is one of these handsome boys yours? Oh, you have to show me!”
Something foreign bloomed in my chest at Nicolette’s save. I made quick work out of jumping the massive Tahoe, but I couldn’t help myself from stealing glances at Nicolette. She nodded like a looney bird and the dumb toothy smile fixed on her face was so phony I stifled a chuckle.
I coughed to signal Nicolette I was done. She wrapped her arms around Cherry. When she moved to walk away, Cherry pulled her back in, whispering in her ear while giving me a death stare, undoubtedly warning her about me. Nicolette’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes went wide.
Fuck,what did she say to her? A thin hand went to cover her mouth, her horrified eyes going wide in my direction.
I couldn’t watch this. Leaping back into my truck, I gassed up the engine. Cherry still had Nicolette in her vice grip with a serious face. A disparaging groan rumbled in my gut. We were back in town. Nicolette could walk to wherever she was staying. The image of her peeling out of the library came back to me.
Wherewasshe staying?
Nicolette waved backward to Cherry and turned to follow me. Her phony expression dropped like a boat anchor. She stuck her tongue out like she had eaten something rotten. I suppressed a chuckle at the 180.
I watched her climbed into my truck. Because I couldn’t help myself. And why did that turn me on so much?
When I hesitated after she settled in, she looked over at me with a wry expression.
“Old friend of yours?”I asked dryly, my eyebrows tinged with mild amusement. She rolled her eyes. I put the truck in drive but hesitated another second.“Thanks,”I muttered quietly, not looking directlyat her.
“Just drive,”she said, casually ignoring me.
But I didn’t fail to catch a suppressed smile on her lips as I drove us back to the garage.
As we made our way down Main Street, I spied her scrolling her phone, narrowing her eyes. Was she looking up the things Cherry told her? I could only imagine what she had said about me.
“I knew it!”she exclaimed, and my face felt colder, devoid of color.
She spun toward me and shoved her phone in my face. I winced in anticipation of my mug shot or maybe that awful picture they’d taken of me, my house burning in the background.
But I was taken aback when I realized that it was a picture of an art gallery. I squinted, unable to focus on the photo while keeping my eyes on the road. She zoomed in and shoved it closer. My heart stopped.
“You’re the goddamn mysterious Motion Mechanic. IknewI recognized those wind chimes!”
She held up a photo from an art show I had been featured at on Hanniqua Island. Right after I’d been released, I was allowed to bring several of the whirligigs I had left from prison to sell at an art show. My lawyer argued that I had a right to make a living, and the art show was crucial for my ability to make said living.
I hadn’t used my real name. I didn’t need people searching for my work only to find that goddamn photo of me on my knees in front of the fire, hands already above my head. I went by The Motion Mechanic. I insisted on no photography and most of the upper crust from Hanniqua Island had thought it was some mysterious, quirky, artist thing. But someone had caught a candid of me from the side, my chin scar laid plain for all to see.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s not me,”I tried lying. She gave me a sarcastic, knowing smile.
“I’ve seen them around town, and I saw you install one at the library this morning,”she snipped.
“Where you were sleeping in your car again?”I bit back, trying to throw her off but her smile just became more satisfied.“That was just some leftover piece the landscape company had. It’s cheap shit from China.”
“Nope. No cheap shit from China is that well-balanced.”
How did she know that’s how I tell the difference between real parts and fake“art”parts?
I gave her a discerning once over. Her satisfied expression made my stomach tighten. Not only was shebrighterthan I thought. But she was far more curious than I gave her credit for. I had assumed she was a washed-up influencer trying to relive her former glory days as a news anchor.
No, she thoroughly enjoyed putting these two pieces together, and, goddamn, had she done it fast. Nervous energy coursed through me.
“You can’t tell anyone,”I said.
