Page 79 of Bend

I drop down onto the log beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch, and look out at the water for a second before I look at her.

“You all right?”

She lets out a breath that almost passes for a laugh. “Jesus. You and your little wellness checks.”

“What can I say. I’m consistent.”

“That’s one word for it.”

She closes the sketchbook and rests it on her knee.

Up close, I can see she’s tired.

Not wrecked. Just a little worn around the edges. Like the week’s been taking bites out of her one at a time and she’s refused to give it the satisfaction of noticing.

I get that.

“You came all the way out here just to ask if I’m okay?” she asks.

“No.”

Her brows lift. “Oh?”

I watch a wave break, then flatten into the shore. “Mostly because I was getting annoyed at my own thoughts.”

“Oh, well that sounds healthy.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not.”

That gets a smile out of her.

Good.

I tip my head toward the sketchbook. “You working on a new song?”

“Trying to.”

“How’s that going?”

She looks out at the water again. “Badly. Everything sounds so dramatic.”

“Maybe your life’s just dramatic.”

“Ah, touche,” she smiles softly, “It really is though isn’t it,”

“Ah, just a bit.”

The smile fades at the edges, but not all the way.

For a second, we just sit there listening to the ocean move.

It’s easy with her in a way I’m trying very hard not to make too much of. Even after all the chaos, even after the lies and the garage explosion and the fact that she somehow managed to turn half the team into a live wire just by existing in the wrong place at the wrong time, it’s still easy.

Maybe that should bother me more.

Instead it just makes me feel tired in a nicer way.

She glances over at me. “So. Are you here as the emotionally stable representative of the men I’ve deeply inconvenienced with my jezebel ways?”