Page 62 of Yard Sale

“I could see that.”

He stilled. “Yeah. I mean, if I’m too much for fucking Boston⁠—”

“Aravind.”

He went quiet.

“I’m not saying you’re too much. I’m saying this place isn’t enough.”

He didn’t say anything for a long, long while. Eventually I felt his warmth as he sat down beside me, and after a beat, he knocked his knee into mine. “What about you?”

“I’ve always been small.”

“Ha. Not that I’ve seen. And I got a really good look at you this morning.”

I felt my cheeks flame hot. “I’ve never actually done that before, for the record. And I’m still mortified that I scarred that cleaning lady.”

“I doubt she’s scarred,” he murmured. His temple fell against my shoulder. “She gets to go around telling all her friends she saw one of the nicest hockey asses in any league.”

My cheeks heated. “Did you call your dad about it?”

He huffed a noise between a laugh and a sigh. “No. I wasn’t really sure how I was going to open that conversation, so I figured I’d deal with it if he brings it up. So far, no word.”

I wondered if maybe he had heard something, but Rohan didn’t want to embarrass his son. Fuck, was I going to get some kind of talking-to when he got here? I’d never done the whole meet-the-parents, shovel-talk thing. I’d never been in a relationship long enough to even go there.

“So. Sandcastles?” Aravind asked.

That perked me up. It felt a little ridiculous to be doing something meant for toddlers, but I hadn’t exactly been given a kind childhood. My brothers had been more interested in beating the shit out of each other in the shallows, my dad was probably hoping I’d drown, and my mom spent her time trying to make sure we all looked good.

Like one of those creepy vacation families on gas station postcards or in photo frames.

“If you don’t want to,” Aravind started, and I realized I’d been quiet for way too long.

“No, it sounds fun. I never got beach toys when I was a kid.”

“What the fuck?” he whispered under his breath. Clearing his throat, he shifted away from me, and I followed him to the edge of the towel where he had everything set up. “Why didn’t you get beach toys when you were a kid?”

I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure I wanted to trauma dump all that on him. This was meant to be a fun summer fling. It wasn’t supposed to be heavy. It was bad enough he saw how shit my family was and would see how much worse they could get as soon as we spent any real time with them.

But he was asking, and I didn’t want to lie. “I’m not exactly the family favorite, as you may have seen.”

“Which I do not get. Your brothers have all aged like raw milk. They’re not that much older than you, are they?”

“Thierry’s younger,” I said, trying to bite back a smile. “He knocked his wife up when they were in their senior year.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

He cleared his throat. “So, is it just because of your RP? The reason they’re shitty?”

That was a complicated answer to a complicated question. “Uh. Well.”

I dug my fingers into the sand to give my hands something to do. God, I don’t know why this always made me feel ashamed. Like somehow, I was the one who made the fucking choice to have an affair.

“Sorry if it’s tender,” Aravind said quietly. “Or if I’m being too nosy.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not you.”

I dug my fingers deeper, stopping when they hit something hard, and I dug around it. I couldn’t see it. The sun was too bright, and it was kind of a shitty eye day, but from the way the sides felt, it was a broken clamshell.