7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Luna
The crazy thing about prayer is that it’s often answered in ways we least expect.
It happens when you’re not looking or seeking something that’s not yours to find.
For me, it seems like God is pretty determined to smack me with the truth, which makes a lot of sense because I’m pretty hard to convince, and I have a tendency to not pay attention to subtlety.
I also tend to say I’ll follow Him, then make side quests that lead to heartache and misery He never intended for me.
I don’t want to do that anymore, so when I’m finished making a snack, I decide to open the mysterious email I received from an old friend while taking my much-needed nap.
Who knows, maybe God had a hand in the timing, and I should pay attention even though I’m on vacation.
A quick tap on the heading and I discover it’s a wedding announcement, which initially makes me want to vomit, but after a little introspection, I decide I should suck it up and be a good friend.
I’ll read every word, RSVP like a normal person would, and be happy for someone else who not only found love, but locked it in.
But first…I need more firewood.
I bundle up again and head out to the porch where it’s stacked nearly halfway up the side of the house.
I don’t see a bucket or wheelbarrow to get it to the porch, but I figure I can carry a few logs at a time.
What else have I got to do? I mean, I could walk over to see Rafe and just get the awkward hello out of the way, but it makes so much more sense to fly all the way to Ireland and ignore him the whole time.
After I’m weighed down with a few logs, I head back to the porch. The pile is taller than I intended, so it sways this way and that. It’s probably way too heavy for me to safely carry to the porch, but again, I’m stubborn.
“Shoot,” I huff and try to accommodate the sway.
I lean into it and try to readjust, shifting the weight back to the center so it doesn’t topple and break all my toes.
Or worse, something on the property that I can’t see since I’ve blocked my own vision.
Instead of pulling off such a feat, I trip over another log and nearly lose the whole thing.
By some miracle, I manage to get my feet in the proper places and right myself.
Somehow, I make it to the stairs. Now to get up them without breaking my neck.
Obviously, the right thing to do is to drop the load onto the porch and take a couple inside at a time, thereby ensuring that I don’t hurt myself or the property.
But nope, not on my plan. Instead, I suffer through it and make my way, all but crawling, up the stairs.
Now I have to find the door handle, so I raise my leg and semi-settle the load between one arm and my knee while flailing about with the other arm in search of a door handle.
“Here, let me get the door for you,” a man says, and my load is instantly lifted. Surprise at the kindness of the offer overtakes what should probably be some initial fear that an ax murderer is about to enter the cottage with me. I brush my wild hair from my face and adjust my clothing.
“Oh, thank you. I seem to have overestimated my ability to haul firewood,” I say with a chuckle that sounds like those nerves are finally setting in. What will I do if this guy tries to kill me? If I scream loudly enough, would Rafe hear me?
“Eh, I think you were doing fine, but it’s going to be hard to get the door open. If you open it, I can carry them in for you,” he says.
Oh. Dear. My adrenaline spikes and my heart races. I definitely don’t have to worry about this guy killing me and hiding my body in the bogs. And I don’t have to worry about screaming loudly enough for Rafe to hear.
It is Rafe. And I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.
“Uh…ye-yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.” My voice wavers and I clear my throat.
I reach for the door, but he turns just as I do so. The top half of the stack rolls off and lands on my feet. All ten toes are assaulted by no less than five incredibly angry chunks of wood. I hiss and cry out before trying to figure out which foot hurts worse so I can grab it.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” he says. “Sit down on the steps.” He’s dropped everything now to ensure I haven’t lost any toes, but they are too numb to know for sure.
The dramatic part of me says they’ve all been amputated and can’t be fixed, so I wiggle them to assure myself that is not the case.
Whew, they’re all there, but they might be numb forever.
Can that happen? I read somewhere that crushing injuries can sometimes cause permanent nerve damage, and these babies have surely been crushed into little pancakes.
I wiggle them again. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic.
“I…I think I’m all right. Nothing feels broken. I’m sure there might be some bruising, but it was an accident, so don’t—”
“Luna, you don’t know that. Please, let me see them.” His voice wavers now, but he’s serious. I’m not getting out of this without taking off my shoes and showing him that my toes are still there. He ushers me to the stairs and sits beside me.
“Rafe, I’m fine. Really.”
“Luna, shoes off,” he insists and points to my feet. He stares back at me with big brown eyes and my heart skips. He always did that to me. Nothing has changed in that department.
I glance up at the clouds, astounded. Yep, this is one for the record books. God must have known he’d have to do all the work, put Rafe right in front of me, and create some kind of chaos to get us talking. I’m sure the injury is all on me though.
“Luna,” he says again as if he’s trying it on to see if he still has a right to say it with the same intensity and determination.
I fully take in his face. I know it’s Rafe under all that scruff, but he seems…
different. Maybe he is. Maybe Mav was right, and he’s got more to say now.
I won’t know if I don’t go all in like I said I would.
Some part of me wants to kiss him, just throw away these past months and pretend they didn’t happen…
but they did. They happened, and if this is the right path, then it has to be solid.
We have to put in the work, patch the cracks so we don’t end up here again—brokenhearted and separated.
I need to say something or he’s going to keep staring at me expectantly. I mean to say something smart, something to distract him from my aching feet so he won’t feel bad for the accident, but my brain and mouth do not sync up before my mouth opens.
“This is Ireland,” I say.
“Yes, very good. You know your geography.” He smiles but his tone is stiff.
He’s nervous, doesn’t know if I’ll laugh.
It’s exactly the same thing he did when he first asked me out, and my heart melts.
I love this man, even when he messes up, and I don’t know why I ever let him go without fighting for us.
I chuckle and look at my lap. “This is probably a crazy thing we’re doing, but Ireland is beautiful.”
“It is,” he whispers. “More so now.”
My cheeks warm and I press my palms against them. “Sorry about the firewood.”
“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who dumped it on your feet, which you still need to check, by the way.”
“Um, I need to do some grocery shopping if I’m going to be here for a few days.” Ugh, I didn’t mean to say that either. I should agree with him, go inside and pull off my shoes and socks to at least be sure nothing is bleeding, but I can’t figure out what to say, so it all comes out wrong.
Rafe sighs. “Message received, loud and clear,” he says before pushing off the step and gathering the dropped logs.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I snap. I don’t mean to, can’t even figure out why I did, but his tone hit me all wrong, and that old frustration with him flares up.
He gives me the typical Rafe shrug. “You don’t want to see me right now. It’s fine. I wasn’t trying to intrude or anything. Just saw you struggling from the yard and wanted to help you so you didn’t get hurt. Pretty much messed that up.”
I can’t exactly see his face while it’s covered in that beard and his hat is pulled down over his ears.
Still, what I do see is…something I shouldn’t be checking out right now, so I avert my gaze back to my task and ignore the fact that my ex is way hotter than I remembered.
I gather a few of the logs and take a deep breath.
I can do this. It’s okay. I’m an adult and there is no cause for anxiety or frustration where Rafe is concerned.
He’s literally the reason I’m here, after all.
Inside, he turns around and looks back at me. “Uh, where do you want me to put these?”
“Oh, over in the corner, they have a rack for it.” I head that way and drop my logs into the stacking rack, then move aside so he can do the same. I need to say something, clear up the miscommunication like a grown-up, but I don’t know what to say besides, “Thanks.”
“Sure. Uh…you know the closest market is five miles out, right?” He wipes his hands on his pants and glances around, taking in the coziness of the house. “I didn’t see a car. Do you have a rental?”
“Five miles? Drat, no, I don’t have a car. Do they do a delivery service here?” I bite my lip and don’t miss that his gaze travels to and stays on my mouth.
“N…No. Uh…I could drive you to town if you want. I’d offer to let you drive it, but it’s a rental too.”
“I mean, if you don’t mind, I guess that would be nice.” I lick my lips and watch his gaze dart away from them. He’s trying. I need to address the misunderstanding. “About earlier, I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t want to see you. I’m nervous, Rafe, okay?”
His features droop and he heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly.” He swallows hard and drags his hat off his head. His hair sticks up in all directions, but it’s so boyishly adorable I can’t stand it.