It might have seemed pointless to have TJ and Jack start at their new schools with only a few weeks left in the school year, but she wanted them to get to know their way around campus for when classes resumed in the fall, and to hopefully make a few friends before summer vacation.
“Oh, Jack, there’s your girlfriend,” TJ teased from the backseat.
Maggie snapped out of her daze, looking to find Katie waiting on the grassy knoll. She waved at the cute blonde who offered a shy smile in return.
“Mom!” Jack hissed. “Do you have to be so embarrassing?”
“For waving?” Maggie laughed, turning to see him shrink down into his seat, his cheeks flushed crimson.
He’d dressed in his finest khaki shorts and button-down, his hair styled neatly. He might have gone a little overboard with the Old Spice, but he looked handsome, and Maggie couldn’t help but bite back her smile at the realization that his effort to look good had little to do with his first day at a new school and everything to do with a certain blonde who was currently watching their car with what appeared to be bated breath.
“Better hurry up for your girlfriend.” TJ giggled, his head poking in through the middle of the two front seats.
“Shut up!” Jack snapped back, but his abrupt words were said with laughter he tried to conceal.
“Hey!” Maggie turned, pointing at TJ. “Back in your seat, Mister.” She rolled her eyes at her youngest before focusing on Jack. “Do you have everything? Lunch money? Registration form?”
He nodded with an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, Mom.”
“Okay.” She gripped the steering wheel again, looking straight ahead at all the teenagers milling about, enjoying the morning sunshine in those final few moments before the first warning bell. She didn’t know why, but she was suddenly overcome with emotion; tears burned her eyes. “Well, have fun.”
“Wait. Are you crying?”
She could feel Jack lean in, studying her closely, but she brushed him off with a wave of her hand and scoffed, “No. Of course I’m not crying.” But she totally was. There were definite tears. Today was a big day. It wasn’t just the first day at their new schools, it was the first page of their new chapter, the first day of the rest of their lives. She didn’t want to make it a big deal, but it was.
Much to her utter shock, Jack leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, leaving her completely speechless. She couldn’t even respond when he murmured goodbye. All she could do was sit there with a gaping mouth, watching as he grabbed his backpack from the floor and hurried out of the car. She continued watching as he jogged up the hill to meet Katie, the two sharing shy, awkward waves before Katie turned and led him off into the school building.
While sitting there, a little shell shocked, Maggie couldn’t for the life of her remember the last time Jack had actually kissed her. A hug here and there, yes. But never a kiss. She could still feel her son’s lips lingering on her cheek, and it was a feeling she hoped she could treasure for the rest of her life, because who knew when she might get her next kiss from him.
“Mom?”
Waking up from that reverie, Maggie glanced in the rear-view mirror to find TJ watching her expectantly.
“I’m gonna be late,” he sang with a knowing tone.
Maggie regained what she could of her composure and, winking at him in the reflection, she shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. And, despite the conflicting emotions warring deep down on the inside, she smiled the whole way from the high school across town to the elementary school.
***
By the time Maggie had returned to the house after dropping the boys at school, she found a somewhat familiar shiny black pickup parked by the house. Her brows knitted together in confusion as she hopped out of her car. When she rounded the house, her feet faltered as she stopped dead in her tracks. There, with his back to her, wearing only a pair of seriously worn-out Levi’s and not a stitch more, was Evan.
She was immediately transfixed. Unable to look away. Hypnotized by the way the muscles pulled beneath taut skin with every movement of the paint roller in his hand as he lathered each plank of timber. His jeans hung low—impossibly so—showing off a glimpse of the elastic waistband of his underwear. He had earbuds in, and his head bobbed to whatever beat was playing, otherwise oblivious to Maggie as she stood there watching him, gaping at him, biting down on her lip like a goddamn pervert. She knew she should avert her eyes—she was being a literal creep—but she simply couldn’t. Her body wasn’t cooperating with her brain.
When Evan turned to dip the roller into the paint tray, his eyes widened when he caught her standing there. He was startled, jumping so high he almost tripped over his own booted foot, the paint roller falling to the timber decking with a loud clatter.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” he yelled, quickly tearing the buds from his ears.
Maggie still stood there. Just staring. This time her eyes trailed down over his strong chest smattered with hair to the pack of six defined abdominal muscles, and the outline of a V-shaped pelvis that dipped down into those jeans he wore dangerously well.
It was the sound of stifled laughter that finally forced Maggie from her daze. She came to and saw Evan was smirking at her. She’d been caught staring. Outright ogling him. She wanted to die. But damn, what a way to go.
Shaking her head and with a suddenly dry throat, she found herself asking, “W-what are you doing here?” Much to her frustration the question came out hoarse and raspy and shamefully stammered.
Evan bit back his smug smile, looking away. He bent over to pick up the roller, grasping the long metal handle. “Looks like rain for the rest of the week.” He pointed to the sky which was a contradictory shade of blue, continuing, “Thought I’d pop over and give the deck a quick coat of sealant. It should dry in a few hours.”
“Oh, okay.” Maggie successfully averted her eyes, looking down to the ground while tucking her hair behind her ear. She suddenly wished she’d dressed more appropriately for school drop-off; flip flops, faded leggings and an old Backstreet Boys tour T-shirt was the farthest thing from attractive. She was the definition of a not-so-hot mess right now.
Flashing him a tight-lipped smile, she muttered a thank you before turning to head toward the back entrance to escape into the house and hide out until he left.
“Hey, I was thinking of driving down to Manchester after I’m done here,” Evan said, effectively stopping her mid-step. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. “I gotta grab some things from my parts dealer. You wanna come? We can stop in at the Home Depot and check out that screening I was telling you about.” He lifted his ball cap and raked his fingers through his mussed hair before pulling the peak down low, that same lingering smile playing on his lips.
“Um, yeah.” Maggie shrugged. “Sure. I’ll just grab a shower.” She cringed at her choice of words. He really didn’t need to know that she was about to hop in a shower after gawking inappropriately at his naked torso.
Pointing to the house as if to further justify herself, she continued, “Just come and grab me. I-I mean get me … when you’re r-ready to go.”
Evan quirked a brow, flashing a mischievous grin as he said, “Come grab you in the shower?”
Oh God. She grimaced. “No. I mean … I … I, umm, said I—”
Her useless stammering was interrupted by Evan’s barking laughter, effectively shutting her up. And, with flaming hot cheeks, she ignored his eyes that were positively dancing with delight.
Hating herself, and him right now, she turned and scurried around back and inside the house, desperate to get the hell away from him before she made an even bigger idiot of herself.
Upstairs, Maggie locked the bathroom door and checked the window to make sure Evan wouldn’t be able to see her from downstairs. She highly doubted he was the kind to try and cop a sneaky perv—unlike her, apparently—but she didn’t want to risk accidentally flashing him. Not after their awkward
exchange.
Stripping off, she turned the tap for the hot water, the pipes screeching to life behind the wall. When steam began to rise up into the air, she stepped into the tub. As the steady stream hit her head and shoulders, she closed her eyes and sagged with relief. It had been a long time since she’d been able to luxuriate in a hot shower. Well before Tom’s death. Now, with the boys at school and no one to rush her, she intended on taking her sweet time.
But then, as she lathered her hair with vanilla-mango shampoo, images of a half-naked Evan entered her mind causing her to startle, and it was suddenly impossible to focus on anything other than the fact that he was right downstairs while she was up here, wet and naked.
God, get a grip, Maggie. She shook her head at her train of thought, almost laughing at herself.
But it wasn’t surprising that this was where her mind was wandering at the first sight of a half-naked man. It’d been a while. Sure, Tom had passed away less than a few months ago, but it’d been longer than that.
She thought back to exactly how long it had been. Mexico, January. It had been a beautiful week of sun, sand and swimsuits. But on their last night, after being intimate together twice in the shower, Maggie had come out of the bathroom dressed only in a towel and Tom had glanced up at her from where he’d been lounging on the bed dressed in a fluffy hotel robe. His hair was still damp, his gaze slow and assessing as it raked over her from head to toe. She’d flushed, thinking he was going somewhere else with his thoughts, especially considering the explicit things they’d just done to one another in that shower. She definitely hadn’t anticipated his words.
“You’ve packed on a few, huh?”
Maggie had paused while rifling through the closet, her search to find a dress to wear for dinner effectively halted. She’d turned to find him staring down at his cell again, the screen illuminating his face, highlighting the small smile which tugged at his lips. He’d obviously meant his words to come off as light, like some half-hearted joke. And while Maggie had tried to play it off with a roll of her eyes, his words stuck with her.
She’d always been conscious of her body, and Tom knew that. He’d said those words to hurt her, whether they were true or not. So, after that one careless, throwaway comment, she never let him see her naked again. It was only now, after the fact, that she was beginning to realize how unbothered he was by their lack of intimacy after that night. And now she knew why. He was getting it somewhere else, from a woman much more perfect than her.
Pulling herself from those thoughts, Maggie continued washing her hair. But suddenly, without warning, the hot water turned icy cold before a shuddering, almighty shriek came through the wall, the shower pressure dwindling to nothing but a dribble.
With soap in her eyes, Maggie glanced up at the shower head, her brows pinched together. She tested the taps, turning them one way and the other, but nothing.
“Are you serious, right now?” she hissed under her breath, looking down at her wet, naked body, shampoo bubbles sliding down her face, hindering her vision.
She cursed under her breath and ripped the shower curtain aside, carefully stepping out of the tub and grabbing a towel to cover herself. She checked the faucet on the bathroom sink, turning the brass taps but she was greeted with nothing more than a hiss and groan of objection coming through the pipes.
“What the hell?” She glanced around, for what she didn’t know, as she tried to figure things out. She had shampoo in her hair and it was starting to sting her eyes, and she had no damn water to wash it out.
She gave a big sigh of resignation. She really didn’t want to but she knew she didn’t have any other choice. So, clutching her towel as if it were a lifeline, she walked out of the steamy bathroom and stopped at the top of the stairs.
“Evan!”
Nothing.
“Evan?” she yelled again, slightly louder.
Still nothing.
Oh, for God’s sake! Rolling her eyes at her own predicament, she couldn’t help but laugh as she glanced down at herself again. Dressed only in a towel, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders, she decided this had to be some sort of karma.
***
Evan hummed along to the Counting Crows as they played through his earbuds. He was just finishing up the last coat of sealant, satisfied with his meticulous attention to detail with every smooth stroke of the paint roller. Stretching, he craned his neck to take in the sky. The rain clouds were beginning to roll in from the Atlantic, and the threat of a potential storm lingered in the thick, soupy air.
He glanced back at the house, and suddenly his mind wandered to Maggie.
How could a man ever, in a million years, cheat on a woman like her?
He shook his head at the question that had been plaguing him all night, racking his brain over what she had confessed to him yesterday. Not only had he been having an affair, but she’d had to find out after the fact, after his death, that the husband she’d loved for half her life had been cheating on her. And now she was forced to carry that around with her. How the hell could any woman move past a betrayal like that? God, it made him sick to his stomach. And after her admission, he felt this sudden yearning need to protect her, protect a woman he hardly even knew.
His eyes moved up to the window where he knew the bathroom was. She was up there right now, in that shower. He swallowed hard as he remembered back to that look in her eye moments ago, when she’d been openly staring at him, eyes raking over his bare chest.
He hated to seem cocky but he was used to it. He’d been appreciated and downright objectified by most women and many men ever since he’d hit the peak of puberty at thirteen. He was an attractive guy. That much he knew. But there was something about Maggie. Her attention didn’t automatically make him recoil and inwardly roll his eyes. Being looked at wantonly by a woman like her, who was otherwise so reserved and wary, it made his heart surge in a way he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Stepping off the deck, Evan walked to the back of his truck and pulled himself up to sit on the tailgate. He grabbed his thermos from the icebox and took a few long swigs from the bottle, eyes closed. But he kept picturing her up there. Naked. Wet. Soapy.
Jesus Christ, man, get it together, he thought with a scoff, splashing some of the icy water over his face. He removed his ball cap to douse his hair, but just as he wiped the droplets from his eyes, he heard something over the music playing through his earbuds.
Turning, his brows drew together as he pulled out an earbud. And then his heart lurched into the back of his throat at the sound of his name being called from inside the house. Maggie. She was calling out to him. Screaming. She was in trouble.
He jumped down from his truck, racing around the side of the house and in through the back door. His long legs made quick work of the stairs, taking three at a time before crossing the landing and continuing toward the sound of her voice. He pushed his way through the slightly ajar door before coming to a skidding halt on the wet bathroom tile, his eyes growing wide.
Holy shit … There she was, standing in just a towel that she was clutching to her naked body as if her life depended on it, her hair wet, and clinging to her damn skin. Her cheeks were rosy and an adorable little line was etched between her eyebrows as she looked from him to the shower and back again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice coming out gruff and a little hoarse thanks to the current state of her almost naked form.
“The water stopped.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the tub. “And I have shampoo in my hair!”
Evan balked. Was she serious right now? Shampoo? He thought she’d been up here getting hacked apart by a psychopath with a machete. He shook his head to himself, scrubbing a hand over his face, stifling his own laughter.
“And just what is so funny?”
Her dubious tone caused him to glance at her over his shoulder. She had a hand placed on her hip in an attempt to look authoritative, but it wasn’t working while she was dressed only in a tow
el, looking like an adorable drowned raccoon.
He laughed under his breath as he looked back at the taps. “I thought you were up here getting stabbed to death.”
“I’m about to stab someone if I can’t get this damn shampoo out of my hair.”
Evan smirked to himself, twisting the taps to no avail. He turned, wiping his hands on the backs of his jeans, which was when he realized they were both half-naked in the center of a steamy bathroom.
He cleared the sudden bubble from the back of his throat, averting his eyes to the doorway. “I’ll just, um … grab some tools from my, um, my truck. Hold tight.”
Chapter 20
An hour later, Maggie was perched in the cab of Evan’s truck as they continued on the road out of town, the highway sign indicating it was forty-five miles to Manchester. She drummed her fingers against her jean-clad thighs, suddenly feeling very awkward being in such a confined space with a man who, not so long ago, helped her wash shampoo out of her hair in the backyard, using what was left of the icy cold water in his thermos.
The Foo Fighters played over the car stereo and Evan hummed along to the song, tapping his hand against the steering wheel. Maggie snuck a sideways glance at him, assessing him silently. He was dressed—thank goodness—having pulled on a plain white T-shirt over his head before hopping into his truck. But now that she knew what was under that thin cotton, it was impossible to focus on anything else.
“What are you thinking about over there?”
Pulling herself from her inappropriate thoughts, she caught Evan watching her before he focused back on the highway ahead. He looked effortlessly casual in his jeans and T-shirt. His beard was extra scruffy, hair messy after being contained by his ball cap all morning, one elbow rested on the doorjamb, his thumb and forefinger steering the wheel.
The Long Way Home Page 15