She catches her breath like I’ve burned her, but she doesn’t pull away. Neither do I.
“So that’s mine.” Her voice falters as I run my fingertip over the wings of the top butterfly. She clears her throat and drops her hair without offering an explanation. I pull my hand out of her thick brown locks, but it’s harder than it should be. It’s like my hand has a mind of its own, wanting to touch Karli again, to get lost in her dark tresses.
She starts walking again, so I do too.
It’s silent for only a few moments before she finds another question. “Do you want a big family? Like yours?”
I cough on the exhaust a diesel just doused us with, not on the question. “Uh, yeah I think. I haven’t given it too much thought honestly, but I’d like what I had growing up. It was crazy, but it was never boring. I guess I can’t imagine not having that.”
“That sounds nice,” she says wistfully.
“What about you?” I ask. She doesn’t seem to have much of a family. Does she want one?
“A big family would be cool,” she says, neither confirming nor denying my thoughts. “If I ever have kids, I want a few, so they’ll always have someone in their corner.”
I pick up a smooth black rock. “What about you?”
She turns my way, confusion written in her furrowed brows. “What about me?”
“Well, where are you going to be if not in your kid’s corner?” Does she think that if she has kids, she’ll be the same mother hers was? I’ve caught enough glimpses into Karli’s heart to know she’s much more than her “mother’s daughter.”
She scrunches her nose. “Well, of course I’ll be there. Just, you know…” Her voice trails off.
I toss the rock in the air.
“Okay, um, did you ever pee the bed as a kid?”
I trip over a sagebrush that wasn’t there moments before and crash into the dirt.
Chapter 12
Karli
“Wouldyouholdstill?”I say as I wipe at the blood on the back of Trent’s arm.
“It stings,” he mutters.
That might be my fault. His arm has probably been clean for a while now, but I keep getting distracted by his flexed triceps as he grips the sink. Oh no. Another dot of blood.
“All clean.” I drop the wipe in the trash and pull out the box of band-aids we purchased a few minutes ago. I tear open the first band-aid and place it over the cut, gently smoothing the edges with my fingers. He shudders and then tries to cover up the involuntary motion with a yawn.
I open another band-aid and place it above the first.
“The cashier said the auto shop doesn’t open until nine, but there’s a diner across the street. We can grab some breakfast there,” Trent says, whether to distract himself from the tension in this tiny bathroom or to distract me, I’m not sure, because I was privy to the same conversation.
“Sounds good.” I open another bandage and place it just below the original one.
I can feel Trent’s gaze on me through the mirror. I want to look at him, see if I can figure out what’s going on behind those blue irises, but I’ve got a very important job to do.
I open another bandage and turn it horizontally next to the stack of band-aids. Then I do the same thing on the other side.
“Is it really that bad?” he asks, concerned for the first time since he tripped and fell into a sharp rock. “Do I need stitches?”
“Uh, no. It’s not.” My lips twitch. “I was trying to see how many I could get on before you stopped me.”
He twists his arm, examining the bandages covering half of his triceps muscle. “Was there even a need for one?”
Hardly. Once I got him cleaned up there was barely even a scratch left.
