Chapter Six #2
“Then afterwards if you still want to go home, you can,” he said. “Come through to the storeroom. It actually looks like a storeroom now, not a warehouse for cardboard boxes.”
I noticed then that most of the boxes were gone, most of the shelves were full, and it now resembled an actual bookstore.
It made me feel better. Somehow. He made me feel better.
“You got a lot done today,” I said.
“Well, most of it was with you last night. Today was mostly organizing and tidying, which helped. We only have those boxes to go through tonight,” he said, nodding to the boxes on and under the table.
There seemed to be more signage on the shelves and stands on the service counter with bookmarks and fun trinkets.
“Is that Howl’s Moving Castle?” I asked, going over to the small boxes of collectible characters.
“Yes, do you like it?” he asked from inside the storeroom.
“The movie, yes.”
He came out holding a mug of hot chocolate. “You haven’t read the book?”
I shook my head. “No. I did know it was a book but I haven’t read it.”
He handed me the mug. It was warm to hold, but not hot. “Oh, you must read it. I have a copy at home. I’ll let you borrow it.”
I thought about that. “That doesn’t seem like a good attitude for your business,” I said. “You should tell me to buy it.”
He laughed. “Well, yes, but it’s okay for friends to lend books, right? As long as you be kind to the book and don’t dog-ear the pages, it’ll be fine.”
My eyes went wide. “I would never.”
He grinned, his hand to his chest. “Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that. Not sure I could be friends with someone who does.” Then he winked as if to tell me he might be joking.
But he’d called me a friend.
I liked that. It felt nice. Even though I might want to like him more than a friend, being friends was still good.
He came back out with his mug of hot chocolate. “Ro took Merry and Bright home. You just missed her. She said to say hello.”
I nodded, but something he’d said caught my attention. “You call her by her first name?”
“I do. She is my aunt. My mother’s sister. But I’m closer to her than I am to my mother. She’s been on my side since I was very little, and she’s younger than my mom. She said me calling her Aunt Ro made her feel old. Plus, she’s more like a best friend or an older sister than my aunt.”
I nodded again, processing that. “I have two aunts,” I supplied. “On my dad’s side. And two uncles on my mom’s side.”
“Nice,” he said like he meant it. “How’s your hot chocolate?”
I forgot I was holding it, so I sipped it. It was warm and sweet. “Good,” I said. “It’s very good. And sweet.”
His eyes met mine. “I love sweet things.”
It made me feel all tingly and swoopy. Like a bellyache, but a pleasant one.
He took a sip of his own. “I love hot chocolate at night,” he said. “Coffee in the morning, though.”
“Same.”
I realized then that, along with the good feeling, I also felt at ease; all my worries from before were gone. I also realized that he was giving me information, details about himself, without me asking questions.
“I’m not very good at conversation,” I said. “My dad said I should ask you questions if I wanted to know something.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret of mine,” he said. “I’m not very good at conversations either.”
I looked at him then, and it made me laugh, because he was smiling at me. “It’s not a secret because it’s not true,” I said. “You’re very good at conversations. You make me feel at ease. I’m not anxious like I was before. I almost went home, and now I don’t want to.”
He grinned at me. “I’m glad to hear that. Being anxious is not a nice feeling. And I think you’re good at conversations. Look at us talking right now.”
I laughed and sipped my hot chocolate.
“Did you still have any questions you wanted to ask me?” He looked at me curiously. Kindly. “You can ask me anything you want to know. I won’t mind.”
Hmm.
I made a face because now I wasn’t sure. In the end, I shook my head. I didn’t want to ruin anything.
“That’s okay,” he offered, as if he wasn’t bothered at all. “Just know that it’s okay. You can ask me anything when you’re ready.”
I nodded and drank some more. “Do you value money over people?”
He stared at me, his mug stopping halfway to his mouth. He blinked and then he chuckled. “Okay, so I thought you were going to ask me what my favorite color is.”
“Oh.” I grimaced. “Well, yes. Favorite color too, I guess. It occurred to me earlier that if we are friends, then I should know important things because I don’t think I can be friends with someone who doesn’t value the same things I do.
But I also think someone who is kind and thoughtful wouldn’t be a bad person.
And I think you’re kind and you care for Merry and Bright, even though you’re busy. ”
His smile widened and he sighed. “I think being a good person is very important. I think we should be the kindness we want to see in the world, and I would always value people the most. I also don’t think I could be friends with someone who doesn’t share my values, so we have that in common too.”
I was so relieved. I’d assumed as much, but it was still good to hear him say it.
“And orange,” he added. “My favorite color is orange.”
I found myself grinning, so very happy. My tummy was jittery again but in a good way. “I like green,” I said. “Phthalo green, specifically. Though all greens are good.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “That is an excellent choice.”
“Phthalo is short for phthalocyanine, which are a family of blue and green synthetic organic pigments based on variants of copper phthalocyanine, a deep blue compound produced by the reaction of phthalic anhydride, urea, copper, and ammonia.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Not many people did. Probably.
“Do you like animals?”
He brightened. “I love animals.” Then he stopped and made a face. “Okay, so I’m not a fan of frogs. I’ll just have you know that if I encounter an unexpected frog, they may hear my screams on the International Space Station. So, animals in general, yes. Frogs are a no.”
I chuckled. “Frogs are cute.”
He shuddered. “Frogs are slimy and unpredictable. Their legs are absurd and they stick to things with their little suction cupped feet.”
He made me laugh.
“Do you have any pets? As a vet, I’d imagine you’d have a menagerie.”
“We have a dog. Her name is Mildred. She was surrendered to the clinic for euthanasia but Dad said we’d take her.”
Winter put his hand to his heart. “Oh my heart.”
“We don’t have a menagerie,” I added. “We had a cat but he died two years ago. We’ll wait until we get another surrendered animal, probably.”
“Or like me, when you orphan two kittens,” he said, grimacing. “But you treat animals of all kinds? You mentioned ferrets the other day.”
“Yes. All kinds. Mostly cats and dogs, and livestock, of course. Some alpacas. But there are rabbits, gerbils, ferrets, birds.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Okay, so I like birds as long as they don’t come near me. I’m not good with the flappy wings.”
I was still smiling at him, still surprised by how comfortable I was with him. “It sounds to me like you just don’t like unpredictability. Frogs, birds tend to move erratically.”
He stared at me, then began to nod slowly. “I think you’re right. I’ve never really thought of it like that.”
My tummy swooped again, and that nice jittery feeling flittered through me. I couldn’t look at him though. It was too honest, too exposing, and it made the pleasant feeling turn sour.
“Well, we should get started,” he said brightly. He nodded to my cup. “Are you done? Or not yet?”
I looked at the hot chocolate, seeing I still had some left, but I didn’t want to risk drinking it. My tummy was too sensitive. “I’ve had enough,” I said, handing him the cup.
I hated that I was nervous again. It was a yo-yo of feelings, relaxed to nervous every other minute. And I knew why. I needed to ask him that question. The question I couldn’t stop thinking about, even though the answer scared me more than not knowing.
Once I’d started thinking about it, I couldn’t stop. It was all I could think about, and I knew it would come out eventually.
It always did.
“You okay?” Winter asked, concerned. “You’re nervous again.”
I grimaced. “Yes. See, once I get something in my head, it has to come out. The less I try to think about it, the more I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Okay,” he said with a patient smile. “Is it the questions you wanted to ask me?”
“Yes.” My hands were fists, my nails biting into my palms. I opened and closed them a few times and it helped. “I wish I wasn’t like this.”
He made a sad face and came to stand in front of me, looking into my eyes. I tried to look anywhere else, but then he reached out and put his hand on my arm. “Deacon.”
I pulled back. “No.”
His eyes went wide and he took a step back, his hands up, palms forward, as if I was like Mr. Jenkins’ skittish horse. “I’m sorry. I should have asked permission.”
“I don’t like it,” I said quickly. “Being touched.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have asked first, and if I’d known, I certainly wouldn’t have.”
I tried to lock down the urge to run away, and I took in a deep breath. I’d been in this situation a hundred times—people were so touchy-feely without a second thought. A hand on the arm, the shoulder, a handshake.
I shuddered as I remembered my time at college when Marcus Hardwick had kissed me without warning.
It hadn’t ended well.
At all.
“It’s okay,” I tried. I didn’t want Winter to feel bad. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.
“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “I should have asked first. Maybe we could ask each other what we like and what we don’t like. What makes us uncomfortable, so we know not to do that. Would that help?”
It took a second for me to repeat in my mind what he said. I nodded. “Yes. That would help.”