Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

so sorry about how things have gone.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
She snuggled closer, and I put my arm around her. “Did something happen?”
She went stiff and still for a moment, but then she sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you here to stay?”
“I don’t know.” She settled more comfortably against me. Her hand moved higher on my thigh. “I just thought it might be nice to see you. I don’t think I realized how much I missed you until now.”
I rubbed her shoulder. I tried not to react to the hand on my thigh.
“It’s really nice to be here,” she said.
I tried to sort out what I was feeling. She was here, telling me she missed me, and yet it didn’t fill me with joy or hope the way I might have expected. There was a fleeting sense of comfort. Of knowing how things would be between us. Of knowing which direction my future lay.
There was also the very real possibility of getting laid, and as shallow as it may have been, I couldn’t help thinking about it.
She suddenly took her hand away from my thigh. She wrapped her arm around my waist. “Can I stay here tonight?”
My heart skipped a beat. Inside my pants, fun things began to happen.
In my head, the chipmunk quivered with anticipation. Normal. She’s here, and you can be normal again.
And get laid.
“Sure,” I said. My voice came out a bit too high and shaky. “That might be nice.”
“I don’t want anything to happen,” she said. “I’d just like to stay and have you hold me.”
“Oh.” That certainly wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it didn’t seem like an opportune time to argue. The chipmunk agreed, undeterred by the lack of sex. I told myself to be happy with what she was giving me. Maybe this was the first step. Maybe tomorrow, we’d talk. And then she’d move home, and we’d be together again.
I’d have my life back.
I put my arms more tightly around her and bent to smell her hair. She didn’t smell the same, but it was still pleasant to feel her there against me. I wondered if she’d let her hair go back to its natural color.
The movie ended. Would it be appropriate to suggest we go to bed? She’d asked to spend the night. Did she mean on the couch?
After the movie, she followed me into the bedroom. She took one of my T-shirts out of my drawer and wore it as a nightgown, as she’d always done. She climbed into bed and rested her head on my shoulder.
On my bedside table, the engagement ring I’d given her two years ago sat in a small glass dish. It had been there since she’d left. I’d spent as much on it as I’d dared, and yet it’d still seemed to disappoint her. It was nothing like the huge rocks so many of her friends wore. Maybe I could trade it in for a bigger stone.
I was still thinking about it when I fell asleep.

    I woke to a muffled voice.
Stacey’s voice.
I rolled over and stretched. Her side of the bed was empty,
    and I could hear her talking to somebody in the other room. I pulled on a pair of sweats, glancing at my bedside table as I did. The ring was still there.
    How soon could I expect her to put it back on? I found her at the kitchen table. She was still wearing nothing but her panties and my T-shirt. She had her cell phone tucked against her ear. She glanced up at me as I came in, her expression guarded.
“I have to go,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the line. She put the phone down. She tried to tuck her hair behind her ears—a nervous habit she’d always had—but now it was too short and fell back in her face. She was very carefully not meeting my eyes.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She cleared her throat. She tried to push her hair behind her ears again, and when that didn’t work, she held it there with her fingertips, as if staving off a headache. “Paul,” she said, finally looking at me, “I’m so glad you let me stay last night.”
“Of course. I mean, I’m glad you’re here.” I sat down across from her. She folded her hands in front of her on the table. I reached across to take one of them, but she pulled away.
“I have to go,” she said. “That was Larry.”
My heart began to sink. I pulled my hands back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Does he know you spent the night here?”
She pursed her lips at me. “Don’t say it that way. You make it sound tawdry and cheap.”
“I notice you didn’t answer my question.”
She shook her head. “No, he doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to. I told him I was with a