Chapter 21
Chicot didn’t stop until she got to the bench on the far side of the faire grounds.
She panted, looking behind her to see if anyone was there, but Monty hadn’t followed and no one else had either.
Her ankle pulsed, her blood rushing in her ears as she sat down, pressing her hands over her face as mosquitoes bit into her legs.
She wouldn’t be able to spend much time out there without bug spray, but she didn’t move regardless.
The sound of frogs screaming slowed her thoughts, her attention fully on them as she let the bugs sip on her blood without so much as trying to swat them away.
After a full minute of slow breathing, Chicot sat back, letting her hands slide to her lap as she replayed the conversation she’d had with Monty in her head.
She probably should have let Monty have more time to speak, to think, but it was too late for that.
She tried to remind herself, there was probably some logical explanation for all of this.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed while she sat there, but her ankle stopped pulsing and her butt started to feel sore.
Chicot didn’t really want to move, pulling her legs up to keep them from being in the grass, hoping it would help keep the bites at bay.
But her arms were already covered, which meant it probably wouldn’t help much.
“Chicot!” The voice startled Chicot from her thoughts, and for a moment she thought it was Monty, but realized quickly it was actually Lyza. She held up a spray bottle in her hand, her purse still hanging over one shoulder like she had only just gotten back.
“I brought you bug spray,” Lyza said when she got close enough to sit on the bench. Chicot stared at it, taking the bottle from her.
“Thank you,” Chicot said. “When did you … How did you know?”
“Just a bit ago.” Lyza smoothed her skirt as she settled next to Chicot. “Monty was crying, but she said it was her own fault, then insisted I bring you that. Elvis said you might be here.”
“Oh …” Chicot started to spray her feet and legs. “I should probably go talk to her.”
Lyza shrugged. “That’s up to you.”
Chicot stood to spray her arms and chest, frowning as she did. Lyza didn’t seem happy with her, but she didn’t seem totally angry either.
“Do you want to know what’s going on?” Chicot asked. She squeezed the bottle in her hands, feeling the plastic on her palms. Lyza sighed, crossing her arms as she worried her lip.
“Monty made me promise I wouldn’t meddle.” Lyza met Chicot’s eyes. Chicot looked at her hands and thought for a few moments.
“Then we should probably respect that request,” Chicot concluded.
Lyza frowned deeply. “Yeah.”
“Umm …” Chicot looked back to the dog park. “We should maybe get back.”
“Yeah.” Lyza huffed, her eyes narrowed at Chicot as she stood. Chicot offered her the bottle of bug repellent back, but she didn’t take it.
“You know, my sister doesn’t let on, but Tegan—Brewhilda—really hurt her.” Lyza was walking just a few steps ahead of Chicot now. “Made her feel less than for the things that she liked and the way that she dressed.”
“Monty told me a little.” Chicot’s voice lilted with uncertainty. She didn’t know why Lyza was bringing this up now.
“And you have never done that to her,” Lyza continued. “You’ve always been so good about making her feel confident when she’s insecure.”
Chicot furrowed her brow, pursing her lips. Lyza just went on, even though Chicot hadn’t responded.
“If I know one thing about Monty, it’s that she’s going to try to do the same for someone who’s made her feel so good about herself.” Lyza looked back at Chicot, eyes still narrow. “She wouldn’t make them feel bad if they were insecure about something.”
“Y-Yeah, of course not.” Chicot’s words were thin, weak. She couldn’t bring herself to admit to Lyza that she’d thought the worst when Monty had said she’d thought it was funny that Chicot hadn’t recognized her.
“Of course not.” Lyza turned on her heels again.
Chicot looked at her feet, her hand rubbing up one arm, feeling the greasy bug spray still lingering there. She started to jog before she thought, her body moving on its own again as she passed Lyza, her pace quickly increasing.
“I’ll fix it!” she called to Lyza. As she glanced back, she was surprised to find a soft smile on Lyza’s face.
“Good luck!” Lyza shouted back and continued to mosey through the grass.
Chicot’s ankle was pulsing when she got to the RV door, knocking on it rapidly. Elvis appeared in it, eyes wide and worried.
“Oh, Chicot,” he said.
“Is Monty still here?” Chicot blurted. Elvis shook his head.
“No, she said she was taking a walk to her car.” Elvis pointed behind him to where the employee parking was.
“Thanks!” Chicot scrambled away from the door, her ankle now actively hurting with each step she took. She told herself she probably just needed to stretch it, running through the bursts of pain as she made her way to the path that wound toward the small row of parked vehicles.
She wasn’t sure where Monty’s was parked at the moment, eyes scanning over the trees surrounding the path.
Monty was tall, so Chicot would spot her, but when she got to the end of the path and the field opened up around her, she didn’t see Monty.
She started looking for cars, hoping that Monty hadn’t decided to take a drive.
Chicot limped, her ankle sorer than it had been.
She kept moving anyway, her eyes sharp as she scouted for Monty’s silver Subaru.
“What are you doing?” Monty’s voice was thick and throaty as she stepped around the back of the black Jeep that was parked in front of her car. Her face was wet when Chicot spun around to look at her. “You’re limping, Chicot. What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry!” Chicot took a step toward her and immediately regretted it. Her ankle screamed and she had to take her weight off it. She was not sure she’d be able to perform the next day if she kept this up.
“No, Chicot, you’re not the one that needs to apologize.” Monty stepped into Chicot’s space, slipping an arm around her to support her ankle. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
“But I assumed you were mocking me or something.” Chicot’s voice cracked as she spoke, tears starting to stream down her face, both from the pain in her ankle and because of how stupid she’d been.
“Yeah, but I can see exactly why you thought I was.” A laugh came out of Monty, broken and soft.
“Yeah, but—” A laugh forced its way out of Chicot’s chest, her tears still dripping. “But I should have known better. You wouldn’t treat me like that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Monty looked at her and then carefully shifted to scoop Chicot up like a princess. Chicot squeaked, but she wrapped her arms around Monty’s neck and let it happen. After all, she probably shouldn’t be walking.
“I really did think it was endearing, by the way,” Monty added.
“Endearing?” Chicot asked. Monty started walking up the path toward the dog park again.
“I mean.” Monty sighed. “It’s sort of cute and funny, right? We met on a dating app, and you didn’t recognize me right away. I thought it was endearing once I realized you were being genuine and not just ignoring me.”
“And that’s why you were so surly at first?
” Chicot asked. Something in her needed to confirm it.
She needed all of the details or she was going to find something to overthink later.
Chicot had done nothing but that over the past several days, and she knew it wouldn’t stop if she didn’t have clarity.
“Yeah,” Monty chuckled. Relief didn’t wash over Chicot like she’d hoped. Instead, there was a new level of shame seeping into her stomach, making her fingers numb.
“I’m so sorry,” Chicot said. Monty shook her head.
“No, no, like I said, I thought it was endearing.” Monty tightened her grip on Chicot as she stepped off the gravel and onto a path that had been worn through the grass. Chicot’s lip quivered, a new round of tears stinging her eyes.
“Most people don’t,” Chicot confessed, voice tight. Monty glanced at Chicot, sighing as the wrinkle came back to her brow.
“When you told me about having trouble recognizing people, I felt like a jerk,” Monty said. “And I didn’t want to make you feel bad since I’m sure people have before, so I thought I should just try to take this secret to my grave.”
Chicot looked at Monty, taking in her soft jaw and the way her eyes were totally focused on the path, probably so she didn’t trip and drop Chicot or maybe because she was afraid she’d make Chicot more upset.
But Chicot’s stomach fluttered, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.
She’d never had someone try to make things easier for her or go so far to make sure she didn’t feel ashamed.
Monty really wasn’t messing with her at all.
She was even carrying Chicot because Monty would rather be tired than let Chicot mess up her ankle more.
Chicot moved her hand to Monty’s jawbone, following it with the very tips of her fingers the way Monty had done to her.
Trying to provide at least that comfort in return.
“Monty,” she said softly. “Can you put me down for a second?”
Monty looked at her and stopped, her head leaning into Chicot’s hand slightly.
She settled Chicot on her feet, still holding her arm so that Chicot didn’t have to put as much weight onto her hurt ankle.
Grass brushed at her bare legs, still tall despite being beaten down by cars over the summer.
Chicot got on her toes, gently pulling Monty down into a kiss.
Monty reacted slowly, surprise tinging her movements as she set a hand on Chicot’s waist.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” Chicot offered. “I should have known you were just trying not to hurt my feelings.”
A breeze kicked up around them, a mix of cool night air and dust hitting them. Chicot didn’t care that it was going to get into her eyes or make her feel scratchy later. There really wasn’t anywhere she’d rather be.
Monty’s lips wobbled for a moment, tears starting well in her eyes. “I’m sorry too.”
Chicot smiled, leaning up to wipe Monty’s tears away, kissing her and making jokes until she felt better.
When she did, Monty scooped Chicot up again, this time having Chicot get on her back since it was easier.
Monty carried her the rest of the way down the small path, the two of them in comfortable silence for the moment.
The only sound was the quiet hum of RVs’ air conditioners and frogs croaking loudly across the faire grounds.
Monty didn’t put Chicot down until they were back in her RV. Lyza and Elvis were already tucked into the loft, the two of them mumbling greetings. Though, Chicot briefly caught Lyza’s eye, her nose turned up slightly and her smirk a bit smug.
She let go of Monty’s shoulders when she set her on the bed, Monty turning around to face Chicot quickly. Monty delicately touched the ankle brace, her eyes sliding up to Chicot’s face.
“You might need to take tomorrow off,” Monty warned. Chicot shook her head slightly.
“I’ll probably be fine in the morning.” Chicot reached out to Monty, taking her hand and pulling her in for another kiss.
Monty, despite rolling her eyes slightly, fell into it easily, the two of them slowly lying back on her bed as they indulged in each other’s lips.
Chicot’s fingers grazed Monty’s neck and shoulders, holding onto her for dear life because she never wanted to lose Monty over something so stupid as a misunderstanding or some distance while they were at two different faires.
“Hey, are we … ?” Chicot’s words died on her tongue as Monty looked down at her, her lips wet and parted, eyes lidded, her hair mussed from sweat that Chicot brushed out of her face. “You look so pretty.”
Monty’s cheeks flushed. “What were you going to ask, Chicot?”
Chicot grinned. “Are we girlfriends?”
Monty’s eyes grew wider, her brows rising, but it all quickly settled as a smile curled at the edges of her lips. She bobbed her head once.
“We are,” she confirmed. Chicot shifted, kissing Monty again and again and again.