Sixteen
Gavin
I ’ m having trouble keeping my eyes off Mia working alongside the crew. She’s basically been left to her own devices since
we arrived, even though I planned to stick by her side. She’s never done this sort of work, but I got pulled away the moment
I got out of my truck, and every time I’m on my way to check in with her, someone else finds me.
I didn’t even get a chance to join her for lunch, but that hasn’t stopped me from keeping an eye on her. She’s held her own
in every task, keeping up with Riley, who’s the toughest worker on our crew. But for some reason, I’m suddenly feeling protective.
Maybe even territorial.
Morris’s laughter drifts toward me and I look over and see the two of them taking a water break on a boulder in the shade.
As always, his shirt strains to contain his pecs and biceps—the man is built like a pro wrestler—and I try not to grit my
teeth at how close they’re sitting. Not much space on the rock, I tell myself. But when she gets up and heads in my direction,
I’m embarrassingly happy.
I pull a roll of sod off the pile in an attempt to look busy. “You want to call it a day?” I ask when she walks up. “I know this isn’t your thing.”
“Nah.” She leans against the open tailgate. “It’s growing on me. No pun intended.”
“Really?” I don’t mean to sound incredulous, but this is the same person who I caught watering her monstera with day-old coffee.
But she nods, pushing off her hat so it hangs by the string, treating me to a view of her brown eyes, framed by dark lashes.
“When we showed up, this lot looked like you’d get tetanus just from setting foot inside.” She lifts her chin toward the tangle
of car parts and rusty barbed wire protruding from the top of a dumpster.
At the thought of barbed wire, I can’t help risking a glance down at her legs. Her shins are glistening with a sheen of sweat,
knees smudged with dirt. Normally I’d justify it by telling myself I’m only looking to check for injuries. It’s my job to
make sure no accidents happen on the job. Not that I’m not concerned. I am, because even though she’s strong and capable,
she’s new at all this and she’s barely sat down all day.
But even after I assure myself there’s no telltale welts from poison ivy or scratches from bristly yew branches, my eyes linger
on her skin, cataloging the shapely curve of her thighs. And after how close we came to kissing this morning, it feels like
there’s no point in denying it: I’m totally checking out my best friend.
“Now this lot looks ready for a game of kickball,” Mia says, pulling my attention back to the conversation.
“I thought recess was your least favorite part of school.”
“Just because I resented the rule about no reading at recess doesn’t mean I’m not fully in support of giving the neighborhood
kids more space to play,” she says. “It’s impressive what we’ve managed to accomplish in less than a day.”
“You’ve all done such good work, but I haven’t been able to pitch in as much as I’d like. Had to keep putting out fires.” It comes out like a humblebrag, but I mean it. I’d rather be getting my hands dirty, but people keep coming to me for guidance.
“That’s why it looks so good. You’ve had a hand in everything.”
Her unexpected praise means the world. “Only because I have the experience. It’s no big deal.”
“You’re kind of a rock star at this, Gavin Lane.” She hops up on the tailgate, swinging her legs, and I lean against it, trying
to seem casual even though my heart is racing at being close to her. “I know I joke around a lot about how lame gardening
is,” she says. “I go on about how it’s an old man’s hobby, and how anyone with a life would never waste their time puttering
in the garden...”
I glance over and see she’s grinning wide. She was exaggerating to get a reaction out of me. “But seriously, you’re making
our town more beautiful, every day. All I need to do is look around to see that. And I’m proud of you, even if I do tease
you for knowing the scientific name of every green thing imaginable.”
“Hey, being able to identify any tree is cool.”
“In a nerdy sort of way,” she teases.
“Says the woman who once created a flowchart of the different Darcys.”
“That was a service to humankind,” she says. “You might not be running a whole tree farm, but you’re doing important work
right here. I hope your family sees that.”
Whether they do or not, she sees, and that matters more. Hearing her say it is exactly the kind of reassurance I craved after
weeks spent worrying about my future. “Does that mean I can bring you another plant to keep Frank company?”
She laughs. “Between him and the gardenia, I’m already pushing my luck.” Her eyes go soft, looking out over the freshly cleared lot. “But I have a new appreciation for what you do all day when I’m wrestling with plots and characters.”
“Mostly wrestling trees and bags of mulch.”
“And loving it.”
“And loving it,” I agree, straightening up and hoisting a roll of sod onto my shoulder, eager to finish up so we can get to
the part of the day where it’s just the two of us in my truck.
“Is that my cue to get back to work?”
“Come find me when you’ve had enough. Another hour at the most.” I put on my best stern foreman face. “Don’t be a hero, Brady.”
“How can I when you’ve got that role covered?” she teases, and I duck my head, glad I can blame my flushed cheeks on the heat.
This woman has my heart on a string and doesn’t even know it.
The shadows are lengthening, and I should call it a day, but Mia seems so happy. Relaxed, too, with no trace of the desperation
that’s clung to her lately.
Hard to believe gardening is what put a smile on her face. She’s not used to manual labor, and I know from personal experience
how many blisters she’ll have by the end of this, even with the thick gloves I lent her, but she insisted on doing the same
work as everyone else and seems to be having a great time.
“Going to quit lazing around and actually help us?” Normally the ribbing would come from Morris or Riley, but this time it’s
Mia. Grinning widely, she taps her smartwatch. “Time is money, boss.”
Riley laughs, and I glare at her. “Barely a day and you’ve already turned her against me?”
“You’ve done that yourself, bringing her along. She told me she’s never even weeded a garden, and she’s out here digging out
tree stumps.”
“She’s not supposed to be doing that sort of thing.” I take hold of the thick trunk of the sapling with a decisive grip, arching my brows meaningfully at Mia. “She’s supposed to be pruning the bushes or spreading mulch. Not,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine, “planting trees.”
Mia pushes right back, hip-checking me, and heat radiates through the thin fabric of her shorts.
I straighten the trunk, and use my boot to scrape loose dirt back into the hole. Morris empties a wheelbarrow full of dirt
near us and Riley fills the hole with a shovel. Normally I’d be proud of the seamless way the crew works together, but lately
it reminds me how hard it would be to leave them. Either way, I’m letting someone down.
Another group is planting trees on the far side of the lot, and Morris and Mia head off to get mulch. She climbs up into the
pickup, waving him off as he extends a hand, even though she’s a bit wobbly.
“She’ll be sore tomorrow,” Riley says, watching Mia drag a bag of mulch toward the tailgate. “Heck, I’m going to be sore tomorrow.
This is a big job.”
“Should we call it early?”
Riley snaps her gaze toward me. “Your friend seems like she can hold her own.”
“She can. I just didn’t expect her to jump in feetfirst. I didn’t invite her here to wear herself out.”
Riley watches me with perceptive green eyes. “Yeah, you said that.” She looks back over toward the truck where Morris is pointing
out the different kinds of mulch. Knowing Mia, she asked for the details, storing them for use in a future book. Morris scoops
up some cedar mulch and drops it into her upturned palm, bending close to tell her something.
I tear my eyes away and find Riley watching me. “You two never...” She trails off, but there’s a question there, and I
shake my head so forcefully that my sunglasses slip.
“Never. It’s not like that with Mia.”
“Okay,” she says. “But is it like that with you?”
Lately? More than ever. “Mia doesn’t date friends.”
“No one goes out looking to date their friends, Gav.” Riley is the only one who calls me that, just to get under my skin.
“From what I remember about your and Mia’s origin story, life friend-zoned you from day one.”
“What are you, a boomer with that shit? Friend zoning is not a thing.”
“It is for you.” She smirks.
“No, it’s not. This is how things have always been between us.” I’m not about to bring up the pact we made back in college.
Riley would be all over that, and I know it seems silly, but for years it felt like the foundation of our friendship. I’m
worried removing it will topple everything.
“You and I are friends, but you’ve never pried your sweaty gloves off your own hands to save me from blisters.” Her voice
is low, but I dart a glance toward the truck, in case they heard, but they’re off-loading mulch, Morris’s steel-toed boots
making a racket on the truck bed. “That’s like the landscaping equivalent of a penguin giving their mate a pebble,” she says.
“You’ve lost me.” I’m guessing it’s something she learned from all the nature documentaries she watches. She loves to rattle
off random facts. Morris doesn’t mind because she nails all the nature questions at trivia nights.
“Probably because you haven’t been able to tear your eyes off her all day,” she counters.
Like clockwork, my gaze swings back toward Mia. I wish I could say I was making sure she hadn’t overheard us, but the truth
is Riley’s right. My gaze keeps finding Mia, and not just to check on her. I turn away, embarrassed Riley noticed. “I’m just
worried about the heat. It’s a lot, even for us, and we’re used to it.”
“There’s no shame in crushing on a friend, dude.”
Oh, but when it comes to Mia, there absolutely is. I press my lips together. “Seriously, Riley. It’s never been like that with us.” I’ve never let my feelings get this far. Not until I faced the reality of losing her and realized this might be our only chance to explore something more.
Riley casts a thoughtful glance at the truck, and this time, when my eyes inevitably follow, Mia is looking right at me. “You
sure about that?” Riley asks, and a few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes.
But now I’m not sure of much of anything. Chaos , that’s what Mia called falling in love. Uncertainty. But what this feels like is anticipation, like the thrill of shaking
a birthday present. The hope that what comes next will be everything you’ve been wishing for, even if you’ve been too scared
to ask.