Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Alistair
February
This, too, shall pass.
A loud crack echoed over the mountainside as the axe collided with the log, splintering it into pieces.
“Still got it,” I said with a smile.
After wiping the sweat from where it collected along my hairy brow, I tossed the pieces of firewood into the wheelbarrow. Even though it was a crisp forty-five degrees out, chopping wood still made me work up a sweat.
Yeah, I had a log splitter. But every once in a while, when I was feeling myself, I liked to play the role of lumberjack. And with Pam in my life, I was feeling myself a lot lately.
I chuckled under my breath, reminded of those books she read about the mountain men who had a breeding kink. While I didn’t live in Montana, and we were well past our baby-making prime, I wouldn’t mind practicing.
Pam and I were a little over a month into things, and I was really starting to feel the distance. Phone calls, text messages, video chats. I couldn’t get enough of her. Every day I came home to an empty, joyless house from a job I was feeling increasingly detached from.
She was the highlight of my day.
Hell, maybe even my life.
But did she feel the same?
Was it too soon?
It had to be too soon.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed the wheelbarrow into the garage and mentally prepared myself to carry all the fucking firewood inside.
Maybe I should take an edible first.
Put some music on and let myself mellow out before doing the part of lumberjacking that I despised.
I laughed at myself again.
Lumberjacking.
I’d have to ask Pam if the series used that term. If not, it was a missed opportunity.
I gave my hooves a quick wipe with the towel I kept hanging in the garage, then clopped up the wooden steps and across the polished concrete that covered the ground floor.
I scanned my record collection, hoping to find something with a steady beat that would allow me to find a groove while performing this monotonous task.
There was only one band who would do the trick: Led Zeppelin.
While I had a lot of original pressings that I’d hunted down over the years—and paid an extravagant amount of money for—I decided on a more recent compilation record of the band’s greatest hits.
Robert Plant’s voice bellowed from the surround sound, the noise bouncing off the concrete and echoing throughout the house. It was loud. It was rock and roll. It was just how I liked it.
Bopping my horns to the beat of the music, I rummaged through the stash drawer in my kitchen, trying to figure out what I was in the mood for. When you worked for a cannabis company, these things were infinitely more difficult.
What concentration of THC did I want?
Which strain?
What ratio of THC to CBD?
I had as many options as a dispensary.
Ultimately, I decided to go with something middle of the road. I had things to do, and I didn’t want to zonk myself out and miss a text or phone call from Pam.
I popped the gummy into my mouth and gave it a good chew before I swallowed it.
Shit.
Regardless of the formula, they all had that funky weed aftertaste.
With about thirty minutes to kill until the edible kicked in, I threw myself onto the couch with my hooves propped over the armrest and checked the time on my phone.
Factoring in the time difference, Pam should be finishing up her yoga class anytime now, meaning she would hopefully give me a call not long after that.
I opened up our text conversation and scrolled to the screen where I could see all the pictures we’d exchanged over the past month.
I’d sent her photos of beautiful mountain sunrises, my deck coated in a heavy layer of snow, and some sensuous selfies with my chest hair showing—just because I knew she liked it.
In return, she’d sent me pictures of Remi, her progress on her knitting projects, and, of course, some selfies. The one of her in her underwear had nearly killed me.
How was it that a woman like her had a husband who never went down on her? Never treated her the way she deserved to be treated?
“Fuck,” I groaned and rubbed my temples.
I was head over hooves for her.
My phone vibrated with an incoming call from Pam, and I almost dropped it on my face.
“Hey, pretty lady. How did you know I was thinking about you?” I asked as suavely as I possibly could.
“Stop it,” she said with a laugh. “You know I look like a hot mess after yoga.”
“That’s a lie. You never look like a hot mess, at least not to me.”
It brought to mind how she’d looked after we had sex. Her face flushed, her body nice and relaxed. Even when she was sweaty and exhausted, I still thought she was beautiful.
“You’re my boyfriend,” she huffed. “Of course you’re going to say that.”
Her boyfriend.
My heart pitter-pattered every time she called me that, like we were a couple of kids or something.
I grinned. “Even if I wasn’t, I’d still think that. How was yoga?”
“It was amazing. Chai really is a great instructor. My flexibility and my headspace are already improving. It’s nice to just focus on my breathing and let everything else go, even if it’s only for an hour.”
Chai had already called me several times, telling me how much Pam seemed to enjoy the class and how much she’d improved, but I loved hearing it from Pam. There was a sense of passion and excitement whenever she brought up affirmations or yoga.
“That’s great, babe. I’m still so proud of you for doing something for you. Most folks are so stuck in their ways that they never try new things.”
Online dating, a long-distance relationship, yoga. Pam was really out there doing the damn thing. I was lucky enough to be a part of it.
But I could be an even bigger part of it.
I switched the call to speakerphone, searched my online shopping app for a complete yoga set, and hit the Buy Now button on the first kit with decent reviews.
“Thank you for encouraging me. I don’t think I would have followed through with any of this if it wasn’t for you. Don would have told me I was crazy.”
I cringed every time she mentioned Don, and not out of jealousy. It was because he sounded like a total dick.
“I’ll always support you in anything you want to do. Speaking of doing things, when are you going to fly out here and visit me?”
She was quiet for a second. “You know I’m afraid of flying.”
My mouth gaped open. “You’re afraid of flying? How in the hell have we never talked about this?”
“I told you I’ve never left Briar Glenn!”
“Yeah, but you didn’t mention that it was because you’re afraid of flying,” I huffed.
How in the ever-loving fuck am I going to get her out here to visit if she’s afraid of flying?
“I mean, I didn’t start out with that fear, but as the years passed and I never had the opportunity to get on a plane, it just sort of intensified. I’ve seen too many movies about plane crashes.”
“So I guess that means you’re never going to make it out here to visit me,” I said with a sigh.
Pam was quiet again, obviously giving it some thought. “I mean, for you, I’d consider it. No guarantees I wouldn’t chicken out at the gate, though.”
One corner of my lips tugged up ever so slightly. “At least that isn’t a no.”
“I can’t ever imagine telling you no, Alistair Reid.”
“Ha! Am I really that charming?”
“Maybe,” she mumbled under her breath.
“I, uh…” I cleared my throat, feeling the effects of my edible and debating if I should just put it all out there. “I really miss you, Pam.”
“I miss you, too,” she said without missing a beat.
I could hear the sadness in her voice. What started as a happy conversation had gone south within a matter of minutes. The distance, Pam’s fear of flying, everything hit us all at once.
We were both quiet, with nothing but Zeppelin filling the silence between us.
“I should probably get going. There’s snow in the forecast, and I wanna get this firewood in the house before it starts falling.” It was a bullshit excuse, but I needed a few minutes alone to process things.
“Oh, okay,” she said quietly. “Well, I’ll be around later if you want to video-chat. I’d love to see that handsome face of yours.”
Fuck. I’d obviously upset her.
“I’d like to see you, too, sweetheart. I’ll give you a call a little bit later, okay?” Lugging the wood inside the house and letting this edible settle in would give me the time I needed to think about this.
“All right. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Motherfucker.
What was I doing with my life?
Oh, right, I was falling for a woman who lived halfway across the country.
I rose from the couch with a groan and headed out to the garage. The whole long-distance thing was working for now, but the closer I got to Pam, the harder it was to do this. I wanted her in my life.
I wanted to be with her.
She was doing some soul searching. I thought it was about time I did some, too.