Page 75 of Next in Line
“I was missing my girl, so I just thought I’d surprise her,” Sterling says with a smile for me. “You’re surprised, aren’t you, baby?”
I nod, and Miles hoots with laughter before saying, “Well, hell, let’s go out to dinner then! We need to show Sterling the wonders of Boulder.”
Sterling nods slowly while staring at me. “That sounds great actually.”
Miles frowns for a moment and then snaps his fingers. “Shoot, I just need to call Sam real quick. I was supposed to meet up with him tonight, but I’m sure he’s good with postponing for this occasion.”
The blood runs cold in my veins, and I blurt out, “Don’t tell Sam that Sterling is here!”
Miles frowns at me. “Why not?”
Nervously biting my lip, I stammer, “Um…he’s a big football fan I think, and I don’t want him to show up and overwhelm Sterling.”
Miles’s face twists. “You don’t know Sam at all, Megs. He doesn’t give two shits about football.”
Miles turns and looks down to start tapping out a text to Sam, and everything inside me turns to Jell-O as I debate how the hell I’m going to get through this night in one piece.
I’ve Spent My Whole Life Fishing In The Wrong Hole
After work, I head over to my mom’s before I’m supposed to meet up with Miles because she called earlier and said the ceiling below her upstairs bathroom was leaking. It’s a reoccurring problem with that shower, and something I’ve been meaning to replace for a while but just haven’t got around to doing. She wanted to hire a plumber to come fix the issue today, but I know it’ll only take me ten minutes. It just needs a patch job, and it’ll be good as new.
I let myself in the front door using my key. “Hey Mom, where are you?” I holler.
Her voice drifts down from upstairs. “I’m just up here in the bathroom getting stuff out of the way for you to take a look! Come on up!”
I make my way up the stairs, toolbox in hand, and find her arms full in the hallway bathroom. “Hi,” she says with a feeble smile. “I was just clearing this stuff out for you. I’m sorry you had to come out here.”
“Mom,” I scold with a shake of the head but give her a reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”
She shifts out of my way with various shampoo bottles clutched to her chest and drops them on the vanity counter. I shine my flashlight on the floor of the shower and spot the hairline crack instantly. All it needs is a quick sanding and an application of fiberglass from the repair kit I picked up for a few bucks, and it should be good as new.
I drop down on my hands and knees to get to work as my mom perches on the counter behind me. After no more than a moment of silence, she says out of the blue, “So you haven’t been by for Sunday brunch in a couple of weeks. Is everything all right? Is taking over the shop too much for you? I told Terry I didn’t want him to rush you.”
“No, Mom. The shop is good,” I reply as I sand down the fiberglass around the crack. “It’s not work. It’s…personal stuff.” The second the words come out of my mouth, I regret them.
“Personal stuff?” she asks, her voice rising in curiosity. “What kind of personal stuff?”
I roll my eyes and glance over my shoulder at her. My mom has a nose for lies, and if I try to make something up, she’ll interrogate me until I’m sweating. “I’ve been helping this girl with a dumb project. It’s basically over now, though.”
I finish sanding and sit back on my heels to work on mixing the epoxy gel coat next. I can feel my mother watching me quietly as her mind races with the best way to crack me like the floor of this shower.
“Is this the same girl you took ice fishing?” she asks, hitting the subject right on the nose.
I lift a brow and look back at her. “Yes, and she’s Miles’s little sister.”
“Sammy.” She gasps, her blue eyes wide. “Are youinvolvedwith her…romantically? Does Miles know?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t know. I’m going to tell him tonight.” I dip the fiberglass cloth into the mixture and lean back over the floor to spread it along the crack. “Stuff just got too heated. Too stressful. And I hate lying to my friend.”
I hear her tsk. “What does the girl say about it? What’s her name?”
“Maggie,” I reply and reach back for my putty knife to smooth out any air bubbles. “She’s not happy. Pretty pissed actually.”
Once the patchwork is smooth, I turn and sit on my rear with my back against the wall. Looking up, I take in my mom’s reaction as she considers everything I’m sharing.
“What do you think Miles will do?” she asks, her brows knitting together in worry.
“Probably deck me,” I reply with a huff. “But I deserve it.”
