Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
JANIE
We sleep together that night, our bodies tangled with the sheets wound around them.
I let my ear rest on his chest. His heart beats slow, and I’m so obsessed with the sound of it.
It washes like waves, pulling me under. Every time I’ve spent the night with him, I wake so rested, it feels like I was under for days.
The next morning is just the same, the faint sun falling through the glass, and the next, until I wake up and he’s gone.
That morning, it’s partly cloudy and I’m groggy. Maybe I slept late?
I roll to my back, surveying the empty bed.
It’s very early. Only the morning shift will be up. I pull on my jeans and shirt, grabbing my boots from the hall. Stepping out on the porch, I squint, and my eyes rove over the fields.
There he is, heading towards the pond over the crest of the hill.
I go after him, walking slow to see what he does.
Even from this distance, I make out the shape of Daisy on his shoulder.
The way he’s so careful with her makes my heart warm.
Last night, before we went to bed, he made up her bed in the kitchen and tucked her into it.
I was tearing up, wondering exactly how long I need to wait before giving this man a baby.
The reasonable part of my brain lets me think about it, but deep down, I know I’m not ready for that yet.
No, I think Bittern and I need time to just be.
As I walk, I ponder how quickly I’ve latched onto the idea that this isn’t a fling. Now, the thought of walking away is unconscionable. All I can see when I look ahead is him.
It’s not helping that in my heart, I’m so damn homesick for this ranch.
When I crest the hill, he’s sitting on the bench by the pond. Daisy rolls on the ground at his feet. He’s got something in his hands, working carefully with his head bent.
“Mind if I join?”
He glances up and gives me that slow smile of his. “Sure thing.”
I slide onto the bench beside him. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting some air,” he says. “I work today, but not until nine.”
He opens his hand, and inside is the most perfect carved wooden bird. Carefully, I pick it up, turning it over.
“It’s a goldfinch,” I say. “Right?”
“That’s right.”
As I turn it over in my fingers, it takes me a moment to realize there’s a lump in my throat. The Band-Aid needs to be pulled off at some point.
“I should probably go back into the city for a few days,” I say. “I still have a job there, an apartment.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. I slide my touch along his forearm to the underbelly of his wrist. His pulse is a little faster than normal.
“That alright?” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “I get it.”
I leave the bench and sink down between his boots, my back to him. My cheek rests against his knee, comforted by the worn fabric on my skin. With gentle fingers, he tucks my hair behind my ear. His touch rests on the side of my throat, not holding me down, not keeping me anywhere.
And yet, I feel the pull.
Just as I knew what I wanted the night we slept together, I know what I need now. Whatever happens in the city, I’ll figure it out and be back soon.