Page 100 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

Now, the guy that was sort of a big brother has become handsome to me. Charming.

Like I want to impress him.

And I get the feeling he’s ridiculously clueless.

Angelo and I have spent almost every single day together since I came out of the hospital, and before I ever met Graham, I was with him most days then, too.

He’s become a confidant of sorts.

Even on the days I said nothing, even when I busted my hands under a wrench and stood under the hood with tears in my eyes because Graham was on the backs of my eyelids each time I blinked, even if we spent the whole evening together, working together, but saying not one single word, he was still my confidant.

He was the only person I allowed into my space, and I didn’t know why until Sonia started asking questions. Things I simply accepted as ‘the way things are’ have become something I take a second look at.

Ang has this way of understanding what’s in my head, even though he never asks a single question. He’s easy in our silence. He doesn’t need to fill the void with useless chatter.

He’s just… comfortable.

And for a girl like me – the girl who used to be fearless, then became afraid of everything – that means something.

I’m trying to come to terms with the fact I might have a crush on my brother’s friend, but on top of that, I have to come to terms with the fact I have a crush onanyone.

I was so sure men would repulse me for life. I was so sure Graham had broken me and made it so I could never be in the same room as a man again. But here I am, not repulsed by Kane, and actively hoping Angelo might notice me in a bikini this summer.

Oy.

Like the sunlight is drawn to him, like it follows him the way my eyes do so often these days, the Charger turns onto our street and the world around me grows lighter.

Hopelessly, I smile like a goofball as the shiny muscle car slows to a crawl and parks behind Wanda.

Ang has aged well over the years – always the quiet friend, the designated driver, the protector of his friends, and the peacemaker and logical thinker. When he climbs out of his car and swings a backpack onto his shoulder, my eyes almost bulge out of my head at this new person in front of me.

Oh, my.

It’s Ang, but way,waydifferent. Where he used to have long hair tied in a knot at the back of his head, he now wears one side shaved back until I can almost see his skin, and the other side, long enough to tap his neatly stubbled jaw.

Momentary shock turns to a thumping heart, and that turns to a smile so big it pushes my cheeks into my eyes.

Well, alright.

That’s new.

“Hey.”Pull it together, Laine, or you’ll freak him out and push him over the edge.“What happened to your hair? You didn’t like how I did it?”

He walks forward with a sly grin that makes my belly jump. Pushing his hands into his jeans pockets, I watch as his biceps flex, stretching his shirt, and note they’re thick from decades of working in a garage rather than a gym.

I don’t think I’ve ever looked at his biceps before. I mean, maybe way back when I was eighteen and watching the guys skate, or a few weeks back, when he was putting new tires on the car. Even his broad chest was always justthere, handsome, but nothing that stole special attention, except maybe that time I told him I was going back to Smythe’s farm to tip cows. Instead of telling me not to go, he rolled his shoulders back, bringing my attention to the way he always filled out his shirts, and nodded toward the passenger seat.

And it isn’t just his body I’m now noticing. In all those times we talked about our lives in that garage, never once has he mentioned anything super personal. It was always about me. And because all I see is a serious guy, I realize now I’ve been wearing glasses tinted with innocence for a long time.

I mean, Ang helped me tip cows without a word of protest. He helped me steal rose bushes from gardens without blinking an eye. He helped me let down the tire pressure in cars when people were jerks to me or my sister.

Ang isn’t innocent at all. He just knows how to hide it better than I do.

And knowing that makes me wonder what else he’s hiding.

Stopping beside me, he leans back against the car and says nothing until his shoulder touches me and his hip butts close to mine. Silent in that in-between part of the day, he turns his head only and smiles with his eyes. “Good morning.”

Stop smiling. Stop smiling!“Hey. What’s up with your hair?”

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