Heard it all. Half, half, half, half…
When I look at Cass, her crazy red hair, and freckles, and gorgeous green eyes, I’m sad again that we can’t even be civil here. Her eyes narrow, and I look away.
Now I just want home.
Dana stops chewing her bowl of kid cereal when I step into the kitchen.
“Do I look that bad?” I ask and try to laugh, but I almost fucking cry instead. I’m a mess.
She nods.
“Can you help me with something?” The exhaustion of my day is catching up to me fast, but now that the decision is made, I want to get it over with.
“Yeah, sure.” She’s too quiet, too still. The cocky girl who comes out for the weekend crowds is a million miles away.
“Do you cut hair?”
“You mean yours?” She’s trying to hold in a smile, but totally failing.
I just nod.
“Really?” Her voice echoes Justine’s thrilled voice of excitement.
I think I nod.
“I’ll be right back. Sit down. Don’t move.” She points as she runs up the stairs.
It seems silly to keep my beard if she’s cutting my hair, so I shuffle into my bathroom and get the clippers.
I drop my button-up in the laundry and keep on my undershirt, shuffling back out.
We meet at the table closest to the kitchen, and for maybe the first time ever, Dana glances at me like she’s noticing me—her eyes floating from my chest to my stomach before looking away. I’m too broken and tired to give a shit right now.
“So, you’re sure about this?” she asks as I sit, still not looking at me.
“Yep.” I set the clippers on the table. “In case you need them.”
“ Really sure?” She shifts her weight to one hip, pulling her tank an inch above her designer sweats. “Every women’s magazine says that you should never cut your hair when you’re emotional.”
And then she snorts as she tries not to laugh.
“Yep.” Her snort pulls a smile from me, because I know that can’t happen to her often. It’s just that since she doesn’t give a shit what I think, she lets down her guard.
“It’s just hair,” I say. And my stubbornness in letting it grow.
“Can I do whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want.” No. Wait. “Don’t make me look like an idiot just to be funny, okay?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to walk away from me looking like an idiot.” She leans over and her hazel eyes find mine for a moment before she pulls away.
“Be nice.” I sigh. “It’s been a rough day.”
“So…what exactly happened?” She starts running her hands through my hair, and it takes everything in me to not at least let out a low hmmm as I relax.
“Today I got divorced.”
She freezes before resting her hands on my shoulders. “Sorry, Jason.”
And then her hands jerk away. Probably too personal for her.
“Happens all the time, right?”
“Well.” Her hands start moving through my hair again. “Lots of people are witnesses and lots of people get in car accidents, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.”
I guess she does understand at least one aspect of this.
The scissors start to snip and hair starts to fall, and instead of it feeling weird, like I expected, I don’t really feel anything.
As her fingers slide across my scalp, I close my eyes and try to relax.
The quiet is nice. Dana walks slowly around me as she continues to pull my hair and snip. I can’t watch. I’m eye level with her waist, and the last thing I need is that kind of distraction.
After a few minutes, she steps back.
“Done?” I ask and slowly open my eyes.
Dana’s smile is wide showing her perfect teeth, pale skin, and subtle curves.
“Do the beard next, if you don’t mind.” I shift a few times, knowing I’m going to feel naked without it.
“You don’t want it all off, do you?” She sits on the bench across from me, and I’m glad we’re friends. Glad I got over hating her, and that she doesn’t feel the need to act like a spoiled princess around me—most of the time.
“I don’t know. I think I want it all
When I look at Cass, her crazy red hair, and freckles, and gorgeous green eyes, I’m sad again that we can’t even be civil here. Her eyes narrow, and I look away.
Now I just want home.
Dana stops chewing her bowl of kid cereal when I step into the kitchen.
“Do I look that bad?” I ask and try to laugh, but I almost fucking cry instead. I’m a mess.
She nods.
“Can you help me with something?” The exhaustion of my day is catching up to me fast, but now that the decision is made, I want to get it over with.
“Yeah, sure.” She’s too quiet, too still. The cocky girl who comes out for the weekend crowds is a million miles away.
“Do you cut hair?”
“You mean yours?” She’s trying to hold in a smile, but totally failing.
I just nod.
“Really?” Her voice echoes Justine’s thrilled voice of excitement.
I think I nod.
“I’ll be right back. Sit down. Don’t move.” She points as she runs up the stairs.
It seems silly to keep my beard if she’s cutting my hair, so I shuffle into my bathroom and get the clippers.
I drop my button-up in the laundry and keep on my undershirt, shuffling back out.
We meet at the table closest to the kitchen, and for maybe the first time ever, Dana glances at me like she’s noticing me—her eyes floating from my chest to my stomach before looking away. I’m too broken and tired to give a shit right now.
“So, you’re sure about this?” she asks as I sit, still not looking at me.
“Yep.” I set the clippers on the table. “In case you need them.”
“ Really sure?” She shifts her weight to one hip, pulling her tank an inch above her designer sweats. “Every women’s magazine says that you should never cut your hair when you’re emotional.”
And then she snorts as she tries not to laugh.
“Yep.” Her snort pulls a smile from me, because I know that can’t happen to her often. It’s just that since she doesn’t give a shit what I think, she lets down her guard.
“It’s just hair,” I say. And my stubbornness in letting it grow.
“Can I do whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want.” No. Wait. “Don’t make me look like an idiot just to be funny, okay?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to walk away from me looking like an idiot.” She leans over and her hazel eyes find mine for a moment before she pulls away.
“Be nice.” I sigh. “It’s been a rough day.”
“So…what exactly happened?” She starts running her hands through my hair, and it takes everything in me to not at least let out a low hmmm as I relax.
“Today I got divorced.”
She freezes before resting her hands on my shoulders. “Sorry, Jason.”
And then her hands jerk away. Probably too personal for her.
“Happens all the time, right?”
“Well.” Her hands start moving through my hair again. “Lots of people are witnesses and lots of people get in car accidents, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.”
I guess she does understand at least one aspect of this.
The scissors start to snip and hair starts to fall, and instead of it feeling weird, like I expected, I don’t really feel anything.
As her fingers slide across my scalp, I close my eyes and try to relax.
The quiet is nice. Dana walks slowly around me as she continues to pull my hair and snip. I can’t watch. I’m eye level with her waist, and the last thing I need is that kind of distraction.
After a few minutes, she steps back.
“Done?” I ask and slowly open my eyes.
Dana’s smile is wide showing her perfect teeth, pale skin, and subtle curves.
“Do the beard next, if you don’t mind.” I shift a few times, knowing I’m going to feel naked without it.
“You don’t want it all off, do you?” She sits on the bench across from me, and I’m glad we’re friends. Glad I got over hating her, and that she doesn’t feel the need to act like a spoiled princess around me—most of the time.
“I don’t know. I think I want it all
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