Ten Below ZeroTen Below Zero(20)

I felt shame wash over me. And fear. And a thousand other things. With my eyes shut, I wished them all away. Imagined them as drops. Sliding away. Six breaths later, I turned towards the body at my back, opening my eyes and finding Everett’s.

“You’re trapping me,” I said. I let annoyance seep into my voice.

“Yep.”

“Move.”

“Make me.”

I gritted my teeth and pushed against him. He was strong. But every man had an Achilles heel, right where their legs met. I raised my knee and pushed gently against the area I knew would cause him to back off. “Move,” I said again.

Everett smiled, a wicked smile, but stepped back. Despite conceding to me, he seemed proud of himself. I couldn’t figure out why.

I moved away.

“Are you running again, Parker?”

My back was to him. I looked over my shoulder. “Not yet.” I sat back in front of my forgotten lasagna. “I’m hungry.”

Everett was still smiling. It was annoying.

“So,” I said, before taking a bite and letting the explosion of tomatoes and spices play on my tongue. I swallowed. “Who’s Charlotte?”

He lost his smile. “No one,” he answered, before taking a bite of his food.

“I thought you said you don’t lie.”

He looked up at me, under thick black brows. “I don’t. She’s no one of consequence to me.”

I didn’t know how to feel about that. I swallowed some wine and set the glass down, playing a finger around the rim. “How do you know her?”

“I f*cked her a time or two.”

I was mid-sip and nearly choked. I put a hand over my mouth and swallowed uncomfortably. The image of Charlotte, long angelic hair and pretty mouth hung in my thoughts, taunting me. I shouldn’t have let it bother me, but it did. And damn it, I was annoyed.

“That’s blunt,” I finally said.

“That’s what I am.”

“Also, you’re kind of an a*shole.”

“Yep,” he agreed. “But why do you think so?”

“Because you deduced her to someone you ‘f*cked’. I feel sorry for her.”

“Yeah, well don’t. And I’m not deducing her to anything; that’s all she was. It was a mutual agreement. And a disappointment, for us both.”

“She acted like a jealous girlfriend when she followed me into the bathroom.”

Everett seemed surprised by this information. “Well she shouldn’t. I don’t even like her.”

I felt like I was intruding on something very personal and looked down at my plate, playing with my fork along the plate’s rim.

“But you have breakfast with her?” Suddenly a thought hit my mind. “Were you…with her last night?” Just saying the words made my stomach churn. Acid burned my throat. “Never mind,” I quickly added. “None of my business, sorry.”

“Do you want it to be your business?” He’d lowered his voice. The hairs on my arms stood on end. “And to answer your question, no. She’s a work colleague. She’s taking over some of my end of the school year stuff before I leave, so we met up to discuss things.”

I looked up, caught him leaning across the counter. His hair had flopped over one eye, but the other was trained on me. “You work with her? Every day?”

Everett leaned back and signed, working a hand through his hair. “I did. This is my last week of work.”

“For the summer?”

“For forever. I’m done. I cashed out my retirement.”

Our earlier conversation came back to mind. He was a ticking time bomb. “And you’re just going to live on the road? For how long?”

He took a bite of his lasagna. “For as long as I want.” He gestured to his house. “This is paid for. My car is paid off. I have no financial obligations.” Everett picked up his wine glass, smiled down at the pale liquid. “I’m free.”

I envied him. To have the passion, to live your final days the way you wanted. To not feel suffocated with emotions, emotions you purposefully deprived yourself of. To be free. I closed my eyes and imagined it myself.

“You could do it too, you know,” he murmured, interrupting my thoughts. I snapped my eyes open.

“What do you mean?”

“Go on the run. Leave your problems for a little while. Be carefree.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“What do you have stopping you?”

I thought about that for a second. The answer was obvious to me: nothing. So I lied. “I have to support myself. Being a broke college student doesn’t afford me the luxury of being carefree.”

“Broke, really? You spent all that money already? I find that hard to believe.”

I snapped my head up. “What are you talking about?”

Everett smiled behind the wine glass. “Your settlement.”

I breathed in through my nose to calm the anger that had turned my cold. “How do you know about that?”

Everett set his wine glass down. “Google. I told you I’d googled Morris Jensen.”

My hands formed fists. “That’s none of your business.” I pushed my plate away. “I can’t believe you invaded my privacy.”