“To be fair, it’s not awholedead fish. It’s just the filet.”
“It’s dead, and it’s part of a fish. Ergo, I’m not touching it. You can’t make me.”
“Is it just fish that weird you out? What about chicken? Pork?”
“I don’t like to touch any of it. But I can do it if I wear gloves.”
“A-ha!” He points a finger in the air, then opens a drawer and pulls out some rubber gloves. “Here you go.”
“Damn it,” I mutter, but I put the gloves on, resigned to my fate. “Okay, what do we do?”
“Rub this sauce all over the fish. Pretend like you’re giving it a massage.”
“Not a chance.”
“You’re wearing gloves.”
“You want me to give that fish a massage.”
“It’ll like it. It’s a stressed out fish, and it needs a massage, Sarah.” He laughs and demonstrates, sans gloves, how to do it. “See? Totally fine here.”
“You can never touch me again.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll wash my hands. Twice, if it makes you feel better.”
“I don’t think that’s gonna work for me. You touched afishwith your bare freaking hands.”
“What’s this thing that you have with sea animals? It’s dead and has no teeth, Sarah.”
“I don’t know, they just freak me out. They’re delicious, but I don’t want my hands on them.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that I never got that saltwater aquarium that I always wanted as a kid.”
I wrinkle my nose, and Tanner busts out laughing, then leans in and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Okay, I’ll touch it, but you pay close attention.”
“Deal.”
“You weren’t lying,”June says in surprise when I hop into her truck, sandwiching Luna between June and me. “You seriously wore your pajamas.”
“It’s practically the middle of the night.” I close the door and fasten my seatbelt. “Besides, if you can’t handle me in my jammies, you don’t deserve me in, well, anything else.”
“I should have worn jammies,” Luna mutters, which earns a scolding look from June. “But I’m dying to know what you want to show us.”
“Me, too.”
“It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time,” she begins as she pulls away from Tanner’s house and drives through town, then turns away from the beach and drives inland. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love living with Grandma, but there comes a time when a girl needs to move the hell out, and that time is coming. I can’t move back into the shithole I escaped from, even if theysaythey cleared out the mold. I just don’t trust it.”
“No way,” I agree.
“So, where are you going to move to?” Luna asks as June parks in front of the white chapel in the heart of the residential area of Huckleberry Bay.
Luna and I both scan our eyes over the houses across from the church. “I don’t see any for rent signs.”
“Not over there,” June says, and when we turn our gazes to her, she points at the chapel. “There.”
“You’re going to live in a church?”
“Are you changing careers?” I ask, my words measured.