Harder (Caroline & West #2)(62)

“Shouldn’t you hire an art major?”

He waves the hammer in dismissal, making me worry he’s going to drop it. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t find any who know f*ck-all about tools. You seem like you know tools. And like I said, Rikki thinks your mind is interesting.”

“I guess—yeah. I would. As long as you know what you’re getting. You need references or something?”

He laughs. “You’re twenty-one years old, you’re raising your kid sister, studying your ass off, doing night shifts at a window factory. You could be an ex-con and I’d still probably hire you. Under the table, though, okay? I don’t want to deal with taxes.”

He holds out his hand.

I shake it.

I mean, f*ck, of course I shake it. Even if the money’s only so-so, the job’s perfect.

But when his fingers grip mine, I’m not thinking about Frankie or the paycheck. I’m thinking about what’s inside that workshop.

Compressors and welders and kilns, polishing equipment, all kinds of shit I don’t know the names of. Tools to learn how to use. Systems to work out.

It takes me a minute to figure out why my heart’s beating so fast. It’s been such a long time.

I’m excited.


That night, Caroline’s in my bed.

She sits with her back cushioned by my pillow, her hair down over her shoulders and her arms, tongue toying with her tooth gap, typing on her laptop.

I’m at the desk, supposedly studying for a Spanish quiz, but Spanish is easy. Caroline is right there. On my bed.

“Quit looking at me,” she says. “I’m trying to think.”

“It’s late.”

“It’s only eleven.”

“Frankie’s sleeping. It’s late.”

Fingers hovering over the trackpad, she smirks. “I’m almost done.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“Maybe I want you to spend some time wanting what you can’t have.”

“I been wanting what I couldn’t have since I went back to Oregon last March.”

She takes her hand off the trackpad. “You could’ve had me, though,” she says. “All you had to do was ask.”

I drop my feet from the desk and clasp my hands together. I promised her no bullshit, but it’s hard to know how to find explanations without it.

I owe her an explanation.

“I never wanted to leave Silt,” I say.

But that’s not what I mean.

I take a breath, try again. “I never wanted to, because it never seemed possible. When I was a kid, I was too young to aim that high. I wanted to get through the day, the week, whatever. I wanted to get enough to eat, or if my dad was around, to not get beat. Or I wanted my mom and dad to get married, because I had this idea that things would get better if they were married. But then Frankie was born, and by the time I was old enough to think about leaving, I knew I couldn’t leave without her. So when I dreamed about what I wanted to happen, it was always about her leaving.”

Caroline puts her laptop down on the floor by the bed. Pats the spot next to her on the mattress.

“In a minute,” I say. “I want to get this out first.”

Rubbing my hands together, I reach for the words. “When I came here my first year—I wasn’t really here, I think. My body was here, but my head was in Silt, with Frankie, and everything I did my first two years—everything with you—it’s like I let myself get close to what I wanted, but I wouldn’t really take it. I was following this plan for what I was supposed to do that was all about what Frankie was going to need me to be. And you—God, I was so f*cking hard on you, pushing and pushing you away when you were all I wanted. I felt like I had to do that, because I wasn’t here, right? I had to convince myself I wasn’t here so I could be there, with her.”

“West, come sit by me.”

“I’m almost done.”

She walks over and knocks at my hands until I move them apart. Then she straddles my lap. She puts her palms on my shoulders, resting comfortably on my thighs. “You were too far away,” she says. “Now you can tell me the rest.”

I wrap my arms around her and hold her first. Feel how soft she is. Move her hair behind her shoulders and inhale against her neck.

“So you went back to Silt,” she says.

“Yeah, but before that, when we got together, those weeks last spring—you have to understand, Caro, then I was here. I was with you, and being with you was the only thing I’d done that was just for me in …”

“Forever,” she says.

“Ever,” I reply. “It was the only thing I’d done for me ever.”

“And then you went back to Silt.”

“You saw what it’s like there. There’s no place for me to want anything. It’s just what I can want for Frankie. At least, that’s how it feels. Maybe that’s not how it is. Maybe I could’ve called you up, said, ‘Come help me do this,’ and we would’ve been okay there, but it didn’t feel like anything I could let myself do.”

“Tell me how it felt.”

She’s stroking my head, my neck. I’m so tense, my back teeth ache.

“It felt like if I tried to do that, I would ruin you. Not even that I would be doing it. That Silt would, my family, just the way it is there—where I come from ruins people. Good people. And I’d have to watch it happen. I’d be responsible for it, because I wanted you and drew you to me across all those miles. I couldn’t.”