Page 88 of Things We Left Behind
Naomi nudged me. “Look at you two playing nice.”
“Told you electrocuting them wasn’t stupid,” Knox said.
“It’s just a truce,” I said. Then I helped myself to a slug of what turned out to be very nice bourbon.
Waylay sauntered into the room and threw her arm around Naomi’s waist. “What’s going on in here?”
“I thought you were fixing your teacher’s laptop,” Naomi said, brushing Waylay’s hair out of her face.
The girl shrugged. “I finished that in, like, ten minutes. People really need to pay attention to their virus software. Easiest thirty bucks I made all week. Anyway, you guys sounded like you were having more fun than I was. I came to snoop.”
“We’re helping Sloane with her dating profile,” Naomi explained.
“Cool. Can I have more cobbler?” Waylay asked.
“Only if you get me a second helping,” Nash called from where he was putting the shade back on the lamp.
Naomi opened her mouth, but Waylay held up a hand. “Sorry, Aunt Naomi. But a grown-up already said I could and I’m not willing to wait for a second opinion.”
“Fine, but I’m coming with you and making sure your second helping doesn’t weigh half a ton,” Naomi conceded. They headed for the kitchen just as Lucian returned with another glass.
“Let’s talk about this username,” Lina said, drawing my attention away from him and back to the topic at hand.
Nash peered over her shoulder, his hands settling on her hips. “Four-EyedCatLibrarian?”
I winced. Okay, even I had to admit that wasn’t my finest moment of creativity. “What do I want my username to say about me?”
“That you’re not crazy,” Knox said, settling himself on the couch. Waylon hopped up next to him and flopped over on his back.
While my friends decided on a new username, I sipped bourbon in a wingback chair by the fire and wondered why Iwas so bad at this. I could rock a grant application like a boss. Put me in a social situation, and I could charm the pants off a cute, single guy in record time. But having to market myself in profile form felt overwhelming and stupid.
“You’re holding your wrist,” Lucian said, his voice low and grave.
I jolted. I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t felt him approach.
“What?” I glanced down and realized I was absentmindedly rubbing my right wrist with my opposite hand.
“Does it still bother you?” His voice was soft, but there was something brittle about the words.
“No. Of course not,” I said, dropping my hands.
Naomi reappeared. “Did you hurt yourself?” she asked, proving that becoming Waylay’s guardian had given her superhuman hearing.
“Is it carpal tunnel?” Lina asked.
“I, uh, broke my wrist in high school. It was no big deal,” I added quickly.
Knox frowned. “I don’t remember that.”
“You had already graduated. It happened right before summer break.”
“I forgot about that,” Nash mused. He pinned me with a long, inscrutable look. As chief of police, Nash would have access to all those old records.
“How did you break it?” Waylay asked.
I purposely didn’t look at Lucian, but I could still feel his attention on me. “The same way a teenager breaks anything. With a lot of clumsiness and a flair for drama.”
“And it still bothers you?” Naomi asked me.
