Like Never and Always by Ann Aguirre

Author:Ann Aguirre
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

31

Clay no longer looks strange sitting beside me. Inch by inch, I’m letting go of my old life.

Morgan’s life isn’t a good fit either, so I’m in this weird ’tween place, not hers, not mine, either. These thoughts preoccupy me when I pull up outside the Claymore house. The lights are off in the front but when I pull around back, I see that Nathan’s in the kitchen.

“He better be sober,” Clay mutters.

“I’ll let you check on him.” I didn’t intend to stick around, but Clay pauses with his hand on the door.

He turns to me with a searching look. “It’s not that late even for a school night. You really have to take off right now?”

“Maybe not,” I say.

“I’ll get drinks and meet you on the porch.”

I can read between the lines. Going to the kitchen is an excuse to make sure Nathan’s okay. Then he can join me on the swing. Since that was my spot with Nathan, my misgivings increase. Yet I don’t have the heart to refuse. Clay is gentler than I expected, despite a lifetime of being kicked around.

Ears straining for an argument, I perch on the porch swing; a creak and sway coaxes me to sit back. In five minutes he’s back with two glasses of water. Since I didn’t hear any raised voices, I figure Nathan isn’t drinking. That’s a step in the right direction.

To my surprise Clay takes my hands and holds them toward the light. “Are you looking for something?” I wonder aloud.

“Blisters. You aren’t used to hard labor.”

He’s right; I wince when he runs his fingers over the tender, puffy skin. That didn’t even occur to me. But he smiles as he massages my hands, smoothing his thumbs back and forth. By the time he wraps his arm around me, I’m too relaxed to react.

“This is nice.”

“Better since I replaced the chains.”

Come to think of it, that’s right; the swing isn’t squeaking as much as it did, and no rusty flecks are raining down on us. I remember threatening Nathan when I got orange smears all over one of my favorite T-shirts. But as Morgan I wouldn’t know the difference.

I’m about to compliment his handiwork, however, when Clay shifts, drawing me across his leg, and suddenly he’s all around me, arms about my shoulders, my back to his chest. The melting warmth contrasted to the pleasant chill of the evening air feels incredible. At first I’m not sure how to act, but it’s inevitable that my elbows nestle into the pockets of his hips and so my hands end up on his thighs.

“This okay?” he asks.

“For me, yeah. What about you?” The question comes out more layered than I intended.

And from his pause, Clay’s registering it too. “It’s … good. Surprising, but good.” To punctuate the statement, he brushes back my hair and kisses the soft spot behind my ear. “So much that I might be disinclined to let you go home later.”

“My dad would call the state police,” I say, though I’m not sure that’s true.

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