Текст книги "Back to You "

Автор книги: Priscilla Glenn

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

She took a small, steadying breath. “Hi Mrs. Delaney,” she attempted softly.

The woman stared straight ahead as if Lauren hadn’t spoken.

Lauren bit her lip, dropping her eyes before she began walking past her toward the stairs.

“You seem like a smart girl.”

Lauren froze. It was the first time in two years the woman had acknowledged her at all, let alone spoken to her.

“Although I’m a terrible judge of character,” she added with a sardonic laugh.

Lauren turned toward her; she was staring down at the glass in her hand as she swirled it slowly.

“But if for once I’m right,” she said huskily, “you should stop coming around here.” She lifted her eyes then, looking at Lauren. “He’ll just ruin you.”

A loaded silence filled the space between them as Lauren stared at the woman before her, completely at a loss for words. She wanted so badly to be able to make sense of her, to find any ounce of humanity in those eyes that might belie the words that just left her lips.

But there was nothing.

And suddenly she felt a heat lighting in her stomach that made it hard for her to breathe.

How could a mother say that about her own son? What could he have ever possibly done to deserve that?

And why did he have to be stuck in this horrible house with her?

She could feel the heat building, spreading up through her chest and into the back of her throat, making her eyes sting.

Lauren had always prided herself on giving people the benefit of the doubt, on treating people with respect, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to do either for this woman.

“Your son,” she said slowly, giving due weight to every word, “is one of the best people I’ve ever known.” She inhaled a shaking breath. “And I feel sorry for you that you don’t know him.”

With that she turned and headed up the stairs, refusing to look back, even when she heard her mumble something about a stupid, naive girl.

By the time she reached Michael’s door, her hands were shaking. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath and trying to rid her expression of any remaining animosity before she opened the door.

He was ly@">, leing on his bed, one hand behind his head and the other holding the remote, aimlessly flipping through the channels on his television.

When the door opened, he turned his head, smiling when he saw it was her.

“Hey Red,” he said, sitting up. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have family stuff going on?”

“Yeah,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her. “But I just wanted to stop by and say Merry Christmas.”

Michael tossed the remote on the bed behind him. “You mean your holiday spirit wasn’t sucked right out of you the second you crossed over the threshold?”

Lauren forced a sad smile, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“We don’t really do Christmas here. Obviously.”

Lauren looked up. “Ever?” she asked, and Michael shrugged.

“Not since my brother died.”

“Oh,” Lauren said faintly. A beat of silence passed before she said, “Well, do you want to come over to my house?” Forever? she thought. More than ever, she just wanted to take him and run with him some place far away.

“Nah, that’s okay,” he said. His eyes dropped to the package in her hand. “What’s that?” he asked, quirking his brow as a tiny smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

At his expression, Lauren smiled her first genuine smile since she pulled into his driveway.

“Your present,” she said.

Michael grinned. “Didn’t I tell you not to get me anything?”

“Yes,” she said, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside him, “and by the expression on your face, I can tell you’re really broken up over the fact that I didn’t listen.”

Michael laughed, shifting to face her on the bed as she handed the bag to him.

He dug his hand in the bag like an eager child, and again, Lauren felt a heaviness in her chest as her eyes began to sting for him. She cleared her throat and pushed those feelings away, focusing on the moment.

He pulled the flat, rectangular box out of the bag, and immediately his jaw dropped.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he said in complete awe, tossing the bag on the floor and holding the box in two hands.

Lauren grinned, and he lifted his eyes to her, completely shocked. “Holy shit, are you kidding me?” he said, and she laughed.

“Do you like it?”

“Jesus Christ, Red, how did you get this?” he asked, turning the box over to read the back.

Lauren had never gotten into video games. Michael had tried a few times to show her how to play, but it was never her thing. But apparently this new game, Metroid Prime, was supposed to be amazing. It was the first 3D game in that series for GameCube, and also boasted a first-person adventure premise. It had gotten all sorts of amazing reviews before it was even released in November, making it essentially impossible to find during the holiday season.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she lied.

He smirked at her and shook his head. “You are so full of shit.”

Lauren laughed. “I just had to betroth myself to some Arabian prince. Like I said, no big deal.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Totally worth it, but unfortunate,” he said, and owleasiLauren leaned over and smacked his chest, causing him to laugh.

“This is…” he looked back at the box, shaking his head before he lifted his eyes to hers. “Whatever you had to do to get this, seriously…thank you.” He leaned over, pulling her into his chest as he hugged her, and Lauren closed her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she said into his shirt.

Too soon, she felt him release her, and she sat back as he stood from the bed and walked to the other side of the room. She assumed he was going to put the game into his system, but he walked past the television and over to his closet, grabbing something off the top shelf.

When he turned back toward the bed, she could see it was a small square box wrapped in shiny green paper.

“Merry Christmas Red,” he said, tossing the box to her before he sat back down on the bed.

“You got me something? I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. Shut up and open it.”

Lauren looked up to see him motioning with his head toward the box in her hands, encouraging her.

She carefully peeled back the paper and pulled out a red, hinged box.

Inside was a necklace, made up of several tiny silver leaves connected with delicate vines, twirling and intertwining up to the clasp. The leaves were faceted so that the light shimmered off them in prisms, making them sparkle.

“Oh my gosh, this is so…pretty.” She brought her fingertip to one of the leaves, the movement causing it to glitter. “Is this ivy?” she asked, looking up at him.

Michael smiled. “We had to do a project in art. Some crap about symbolism in nature. I couldn’t come up with anything, so Miss Abramo assigned me ivy.” He shrugged. “It made me think of you.”

“What do you mean?” Lauren asked.

He shook his head. “Here,” he said, reaching for the box and pulling the necklace out. He opened the clasp and held it out, and Lauren leaned forward as he put it around her neck, closing it behind her.

Michael sat back, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “It looks good on you, Red.”

Her hand came to the necklace, holding it against her skin as she felt her cheeks get hot. “Thank you.”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Lauren looked down at her watch. “I should be getting back,” she said softly.

“Alright. Well, thanks for coming over. Give me a call tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” Lauren asked.

“No, I’m good. I got this,” he said, holding up the video game with a smile.

“Okay,” she said, standing from the bed, not wanting to leave him even though she knew she had to. “But if you decide you want to get out of here for a bit, just come over.”

“I will. Merry Christmas,” he said, hugging her once more, and she gave him one last squeeze before she grabbed her purse and headed back downstairs.

Thankfully, Michael’s mother was nowhere to be seen when she came back through the living room; Lauren didn’t know if she’d be able to curb her tongue if they had another encounter, and the last thing she wanted to do was have it out with that woman.

She drove home in silence, one hand on the wheel and the other playin { display: block; text-indent: 0%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: owleasig with the delicate silver vines at her throat.

As soon as she got back home, she bypassed the crowd of her family in the living room and ran upstairs, powering up her computer. And then she opened her search engine and typed in “ivy symbolism” before hitting enter.

Several sites came up as a result, and Lauren clicked on the first one and began reading.

Ever furrowing and intertwining, the ivy is an example of the twists and turns our lives often take, but because ivy has the propensity to interweave in its growth, it is also a testimony to the long-lasting connections we can form with others throughout our lives.

Lauren bit her lip, closing out of the website and clicking on the next one.

Ivy is a tribute to strong relationships because of its ability to grow and flourish, even in the most challenging environments. It seems to be virtually indestructible and will often return after it has suffered damage or has been severely cut back. Because the ivy is unbelievably durable and known to withstand harsh conditions, it represents incredibly loyal relationships and our ability to stand by those we care about, even in the toughest of situations.

Lauren’s breath left her in a soft rush, and she closed out of the website and clicked on one more. This one stated simply:

Ivy is symbolic of strong, lasting relationships that are guaranteed to stand the test of time.

With a smile on her lips, she dropped her head back on the chair and closed her eyes, trailing her fingertips over the necklace once more.

“I love you, Michael Delaney,” she breathed, and it felt so good to finally say it out loud, even if no one but her could hear it.

.

January 2012

Lauren sat at the stoplight, mentally running through the list of errands she still hoped to get done. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a day off during the week, and when she first woke up that morning, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her new semester of classes didn’t start for another couple of days, so she literally had an entire day laid out before her like a blank canvas.

That lasted all of about five minutes.

After cleaning her apartment, she finally collected the small laundry bag of dry-clean-only clothes that had been sitting in the bottom of her closet and dropped them off to be cleaned. She stopped by the post office and picked up a book of stamps. She went to the bank and transferred some money from her savings account to her checking account in preparation for those post-holiday credit card bills. And now, she was on her way to the grocery store.

As she waited for the light to turn green, the sound of grinding metal caught her attention, and she glanced to the right, noticing the crew of construction workers gathered around a large sheet of metal, some holding it in place while others methodically walked around with some type of hand-held tools that either cut it or drilled holes in it. One of the men stopped and removed the goggles from his eyes, checking over his work, and she smiled softly when she recognized him.

Lauren had completely forgotten he was working on the new medical offices going up on West Linn Street.

Just as the light turned green, she sa@ classle decisionw him cup his hands in front of his mouth and blow into them before rubbing them together. She frowned slightly as she began to pull forward, watching as his breath repeatedly left his mouth in a wispy cloud. In fact, the whole group of them looked like they were steaming, their exhales alternately providing puffs of white smoke that wafted around them.

He bounced on his toes, rubbing his hands together one more time before he pulled his goggles back down and got back to work.

Lauren glanced down at her dashboard. Eighteen degrees outside today.

She scrunched up her nose as she glanced in her rearview, catching one last glimpse of the men as they continued working over the piece of metal before they disappeared from view.

Before she had even consciously decided to do it, she made a quick left turn, putting on her blinker at the end of the street and turning into the Dunkin Donuts drive-through. Five minutes later, she was heading back toward West Linn Street with a Box O’Joe and fifty count of Munchkins in her passenger seat.

Lauren found a parking space at the end of the street and exited the car, ducking her head against a particularly sharp gust of wind; she couldn’t imagine having to work outside on a day like this. She walked a little faster, the box of coffee in one hand and the donuts in the other, looking out from under her lashes as she tucked her chin into her scarf.

As she approached the small group of men, Michael removed his goggles again, bending slightly to examine something on the sheet metal. After a moment he straightened. He was about to bring his goggles back down when he spotted her.

He looked surprised, but he smiled, pulling his goggles completely off as he placed what looked like a drill on the pavement.

“Hey,” Lauren said, bouncing on her toes to keep warm as he approached her.

“Hey,” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets. “It’s freezing out here. Why are you walking? Where’s your car?”

“Down the block,” she said, motioning with her head. “I just came down here to give you guys this,” she added holding out the coffee and donuts.

He looked down at what she offered. “You got us all coffee?” he asked. When he looked back up, there was something behind his eyes that made her chest feel heavy with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

Lauren nodded. “It’s cold,” she said softly. “I just figured…” She shrugged.

Michael looked at her for a second before a smile began playing at his lips. “You would’ve had to fend off most of these guys with a cattle prod anyway. But now? All bets are off.”

Lauren laughed nervously. “Well then, maybe you should give it to them.”

He laughed loudly before he quirked his brow at her. “Come on now Red, I’ve never known you to be shy.”

He turned then, calling to the guys, and Lauren froze.

It was the first time he’d used his old nickname for her.

The heaviness instantly settled back in her chest, and this time, she had no trouble identifying it.

Longing.

She should have been panicked over that revelation; she realized that. She should have been trying to find a way to remove herself from the situation so she could get composed, so she could chase that godforsaken feeling out of her body. It was a fail-safe method that had proven successful whenever she felt herself slipping with him over the past it"> shoulder few weeks.

But for some reason, the only thing she could bring herself to do in that moment was smile.

She didn’t even realize how much she had missed his pet name for her until she’d heard it again.

Michael had the men’s attention now, and he turned back, gesturing to her. “This is my friend Lauren. She brought us coffee.”

Immediately, she was inundated with calls of thanks, compliments, and a few whistles. She looked down and laughed, handing the boxes to the two men who walked over. “There are cups in that bag, and cream and sugar,” she said.

“Well, aren’t you a doll,” an older gentleman with graying hair said. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” Lauren waved at the other guys. “Stay warm,” she called, and again, they shouted their thanks to her.

Michael smiled. “Well, I better go get some before those animals drain that thing,” he said. “And you should get the hell out of this cold.”

“Wait,” Lauren said. “I have something for you in the car.”

“For me?” he asked, his brow lifted, and she nodded.

“Hurry though, I’m freezing,” she said as she turned and started walking quickly down the block.

She was vaguely aware of Michael following her, but she was too focused on picking up the pace. The wind had started to pick up, making it borderline unbearable to be outside.

When she reached the car, she jumped in, quickly closing the door behind her, and Michael walked around, getting into the passenger side.

“God.” Lauren’s teeth chattered as she started the car and blasted the heat, holding her hands in front of the vents. “How the hell do you do it?”

“You get used to it after a while.” He rested his head back on the seat and turned to look at her. “This was probably a stupid move though.”

“What was?”

“Getting in this car with you.”

She pulled her brow together as she focused on playing with the knob for the heat. “Why?” she asked with strained casualness.

“Because I’m warming up. It’s going to be that much colder when I go back out there now.”

“Oh.” She felt her shoulders soften in relief as she looked over at him.

“What did you think I meant?”

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, reaching into the console and pulling the large Dunkin Donuts cup out of the holder. “Here, maybe this will make going back out there a little more bearable.”

“What is this?” he asked, taking it from her.

“Hot chocolate.”

A slow smile formed on his lips. “With whipped cream?”

She nodded once.

“And…?”

Lauren smiled. “And rainbow sprinkles. And a cherry, of course.”

Michael’s smile turned into a full-blown grin, and Lauren laughed.

When they were in high school, Michael used to order this drink all the time, claiming it was like “an ice-cream sundae you could have in the winter.” Lauren always got a kick out of it, the way he’d walk through the halls with his intimidating posture and unnerving expression { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: viles while holding such an innocuous, juvenile beverage concealed in a coffee cup.

She nodded in the direction of the work site. “Tell them it’s something manly,” she said. “Like black coffee with a shot of whiskey.”

He burst out laughing before he looked down, shaking his head with a smile. He spun the drink slowly in his hand before he looked back up at her. “How do you remember these things?”

Her expression softened. “You were my best friend, Michael.”

His smile dropped. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then he looked down. “I know,” he said softly. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “I should probably…” He gestured with his head toward the construction site, and Lauren nodded.

“Yeah. Try to stay warm, okay?”

She turned toward the steering wheel, and suddenly his hand was on her chin, turning her face back toward him as he leaned forward and brought his lips to her cheek.

She closed her eyes as his mouth left her skin. “Thank you,” he said. She felt the backs of his knuckles brush over her cheek, right where he had just kissed her, and then he was out of the car before she could even formulate a response.

Michael walked back down the block, hot chocolate in hand and a smile on his face, completely oblivious to the cold now.

When he got back to the site, most of the guys were sitting on the curb drinking coffee and eating the donuts Lauren had just dropped off. He walked over to where Dean was leaned up against a streetlight, warming his hands on his cup of coffee.

Dean glanced over at him. “Was that her?” he asked before he took a sip.

“Who?” Michael asked, taking a sip of his own and smiling as the sweet beverage hit his tongue. Tell them it’s something manly, like black coffee with a shot of whiskey. He laughed to himself.

“Your girl,” Dean said. “The one you’ve been after.”

Michael looked up, his expression turning serious. “I’m not after her,” he said. “She’s a good friend of mine.”

Dean looked at him for a second before he smirked. “Okay,” he said, turning his attention to the other side of the street. He brought his cup to his mouth, but Michael could still see him smiling.

He looked at Dean for another second before he dropped his eyes, rolling his cup in between his palms, feeling the heat of the liquid and the icy chill of the air alternating on his skin.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally said.

Dean looked back at him. “What’s up?”

“You and Melinda. How’s that going?”

Only a few months ago, they had been in the middle of an ugly custody battle over their daughter. But recently, Michael knew they’d been trying to work on their relationship.

Dean inhaled deeply. “We got a lot of shit to work out. But we’re trying. We’re getting there.”

Michael nodded, and for a minute, the only sound was the murmuring conversations of the guys around them mixing with the cars passing by. “How?” he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

He inhaled slowly. “I mean…how do you fix@u"> shoulder something you really fucked up?”

Dean looked at him, and after a second he nodded in understanding.

“Well,” he said, “we have a kid involved. So when we put her needs in front of our own, that helps.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, running his fingers over the lid of his cup.

“But honestly? What women need?” Dean paused to take a sip of his coffee. “Actions. Not words. Sorry doesn’t mean shit, begging doesn’t mean shit, and promises don’t mean shit.”

Michael nodded and looked down. “I’m just…I’m at a loss, man. I just don’t know…” He sighed, shaking his head.

Dean leaned over. “You gotta prove to her that you’re never gonna do whatever messed with her in the first place ever again. You gotta show her there’s no reason to be afraid of giving you another chance. And that’s work, my man. That’s work.” He pushed off the lamppost and started to walk away, but turned at the last second. “But from what I just saw, I think she’d be willing to hear you out.”

Dean clapped him on the back before he turned and walked back toward their workstation.

Michael watched him walk away for a moment before he turned and sat on a nearby bench, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his hot chocolate in front of him.

Slowly, he bowed his head.

Something had changed. Somehow, for some reason, something had changed between them over the past few weeks. Lauren seemed so much more open to him. More relaxed. More herself. Months ago, that had been all he really wanted—to have her drop that aloof charade, for her to let her guard down and just be herself with him again.

But now that he seemed to have that, he wanted more.

The taste of winning back her friendship had given him an appetite for something much bigger. And when she looked at him the way she just did in the car, there was a piece of him that believed maybe, just maybe, he could have it. That there was a chance he could fix this.

That he could have everything he wanted.

Michael dropped his head back, taking a deep breath as he blinked up at the sky.

He’d done everything except the one thing he knew he had to do.

He needed to talk to her about what happened.

And maybe if she knew the reason behind his actions all those years ago, she’d understand.

Michael sighed as he looked down at his drink, swirling it a few times before he took another sip.

He was going to talk to her. Soon. Because even if it didn’t work, even if knowing the truth didn’t change a single thing between them, she deserved to finally understand what had happened.

It was time for him to stop running.

.

May 2003

Del sat in the passenger seat of Lauren’s car, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

“I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Lauren looked at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Well, sometimes I’d have to disagree,” she said with the hint of a laugh. “But what are you talking about?” { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: dyasm.

“I know what this is about.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking at him, and then she turned her eyes back to the road, saying nothing.

He knew he was being an asshole; she was just looking out for him. But he couldn’t help it.

It was the anniversary of the night Aaron died. Lauren knew that. And what Del wanted to be doing right now—what he’d done every year on this night since he was thirteen—was to drink until he passed out. Lauren knew that too.

Which, of course, was the reason for this little road trip.

Lauren claimed she needed his help with something tonight, but Del knew better. She hated when he drank too much, especially when he used it as a coping mechanism. She had used those exact words with him once, and he’d laughed and told her not to quit her day job.

Even though he knew that’s exactly what he was doing.

“Just…humor me,” she said quietly before she reached to turn the radio on.

For the next twenty minutes, neither one of them spoke as Lauren drove them through the next town and pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a small warehouse.

She cut the engine and removed her seatbelt before she turned to look at him.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Del squinted out the window, just making out the letters of a small neon sign hanging above the door of the building.

TRASHED.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, but she was already out of the car.

With a huff he took off his seatbelt. “Hey,” he called as he exited the car, and she turned to look over her shoulder. “What the hell is this?”

“Come on,” she said simply, reaching for him.

With a resigned sigh he walked over to where she was standing and took her outstretched hand.

Lauren led him to the door and pulled it open, and they walked into what looked like a small china shop. The walls were essentially floor to ceiling shelves, filled with various plates, glasses, mugs, bowls, and vases. There was a counter on the far wall, where a cash register sat above a long glass case filled with what looked like small porcelain statues and knickknacks. The man behind it appeared to be in his twenties; his hair was dyed a deep black and styled into meticulous spikes, and two piercings adorned his lower lip.

Del halted in the doorway, surveying the area with confusion, but Lauren pulled him forward as she approached the man behind the counter.

“Hi,” she said. “My name is Lauren Monroe. I think we spoke on the phone?”

“Lauren, yes,” he said, and Del immediately straightened his posture at the way the guy was looking at her. “Good to meet you.”

She nodded with a smile. “This is my friend Michael,” she said, pulling him a bit closer to the counter.

The man nodded politely at him. “Glad to have you with us. So, are you guys all set?”

“Just him,” Lauren said.

“Okay then. Right this way. Your room is all ready.”

The man turned and walked down a small hallway to the left of the counter, and Lauren moved to follow him.

Del yanked on her hand, and she stumbled back toward him, wide-eyed.

“I’m not going anywhere until you nd"> shoulder tell me what the hell this is.”

For a second, she just stared up at him. “You don’t trust me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I do,” he started.

“Then just come with me,” she said, cutting him off. “If you don’t want to do it, we’ll leave.”

She looked up at him for another second, reassuring him with her eyes before she turned back toward the hallway, and this time, he allowed her to pull him along.

There were two doors on either side of the hall, and Lauren followed the man into the last one on the right.

As soon as they stepped inside the room, Del released her hand and crossed his arms, looking around. One of the walls appeared to be made of plexi-glass. He could see four chairs lined up on the other side, facing the room. The other walls were painted black and had sheet metal nailed to them. Del furrowed his brow, noticing the dents, nicks, and scratches that peppered the once shiny surfaces.

But the strangest thing of all was the long table set up against the back wall; there were four large stacks of plates in varying sizes and colors, several wine glasses, a few serving bowls, and one large crystal vase right in the center.

Del turned to look at Lauren, but she was looking at the man, nodding at something he was saying.

“And that’s it,” he said. “Here you go.” He handed her something that looked like folded cloth.

“Thank you,” she said, and the man turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

She turned then, looking at him; the steadfast confidence from earlier was diluted with a hint of uncertainty now.

Before he could say anything, she walked over to him. “Here,” she said softly. “You have to put this on.”

Michael looked down at the gray fabric in her hand.

It was a pair of coveralls, similar to what a mechanic might wear.

“And these,” she added, holding out a pair of safety goggles.

Del studied them for a second before he looked up at her, finally understanding.

“Am I…? You want me to break all this shit?”

Lauren nodded.

When Del just stared at her, she gestured toward the table. “I got you the dinner party package,” she said. “Sounded like a good one, but what do I know.”

Del turned and surveyed the room once more. He must have still looked confused because she said, “It’s supposed to help. You know…to get rid of stress. It’s much healthier than…other things.”

“Red, this is ridiculous.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

He looked down at the coveralls in his hand, and for a moment, the room was completely silent.

Finally, he took a deep breath. “So I just put this on and throw shit around?”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Pretty much.”

He looked down again and nodded. “Alright,” he said, reaching for the goggles.

She smiled then, the last of her uncertainty disappearing as she handed them to him. “I’ll be out there,” she said, gesturing toward the plexi-glass window. She went up on her toes, kissing his cheek before she turned and exited the room.

When the door clicked softly behind her, Del@is"> shoulder exhaled, turning to survey the room again.

This was stupid.

There was no way throwing a few plates against the wall was going to make him feel any better. He wanted to be home, in his room, with a bottle of Jack and his stereo blasting loud enough to make thinking impossible.

But she had looked so hopeful. And she had gone through all the trouble to set this up.

With a sigh, he pulled the coveralls on over his clothes and slid his hands into the thick, protective gloves.