Page 24 of The Love of My Next Life
“This place is important to you,” I finish for him. “You want to keep it for yourself.”
He doesn’t respond, but I know I’m right. And after seeing how Claire behaved on Friday night, I’m also not sure he’s wrong about her. It hurts to consider; I feel like I’m betraying my best friend, but I don’t blame Macon for wanting to keep this from her.
The thought makes my stomach roil.
“Well,” I say, after a minute of silent staring, and hook my thumb toward the exit. “I guess I should probably go.”
He flashes me that crooked grin, and I, once again, become very aware of the fact that Macon is shirtless and covered in clay with his hair up in a cute little butterfly clip. I will my cheeks not to flush and keep my eyes fixed firmly above his neck.
“And I should probably get some more practice in; otherwise, those kids are gonna call my ass out on Thursday.”
I nod, give him a little wave, and head toward the door. Just before I push it open, Macon calls out to me.
“You gonna let me know why you don’t tell anyone you paint?” he asks, and I pivot just enough to see his face.
“Nope,” I say with a small smile, “and if you want me to keep your secret, you’ll keep mine.”
He laughs—a genuine, amused laugh—and it makes my stomach do a little flip thing.
“You’ll keep my secret either way,” he says confidently.
I purse my lips and study him.
“What makes you so sure?”
His smile grows, and he shakes his head before saying, “because that’s just the kind of girl you are, Lennon Capri.”
I fold my lips between my teeth, then push through the door, leaving him standing shirtless and clay-covered in the hallway.
SIX
On Mondaywhen Claire picks me up, I sling a duffle bag with a week’s worth of clothes into her trunk before climbing into the passenger seat.
I caved. She knew I would.
The cab lacks the distinct smell of spearmint, weed, and spice, instead filling my senses with Claire’s cucumber melon air-fresheners that she stuck into the vents of the car.
“Morning,” Claire says as I buckle my seat belt. “I’m so glad you decided to stay. Mom is too. She got those protein bars and the OJ you like.”
My chest warms. I might not want to be at Claire’s this week, but Andrea always goes out of her way to make me feel welcome.
“She didn’t have to do that,” I tell Claire, and she laughs.
“You know how she is. I think she wants you as a daughter. If she could trade you for Macon, I think she totally would.”
She says it jokingly, but my brow furrows, bringing me back to the weekend.
Do us all a favor next time and OD.
I try to shake away the cruel sound of her voice, but it still slithers over my skin, cold and disturbing.
“Claire...” I start, then trail off. She glances at me quickly before looking back out the windshield.
“What’s up?”
“Friday...when you said it’s never just weed and beer...” She sighs, and I watch her jaw tighten as I continue, “What did you mean?”
Her lip curls in disgust. “Mom found cocaine in his room about a month ago.”
