Chapter 15 #2
Both of us watch Lottie in silence.
She rests near the edge of the mountain. “Is she okay there? Should I get her?”
He shakes his head, hands now on his hips. “That girl will be the death of me, but she’s fine. She thinks she’s a pet dog and not a farm animal.” He’s smiling at her like a father smiles at their daughter. My chest pinches. “She’s a sweet girl, though.”
No doubt. “Is it okay if I pet her?”
“And feed into her delusions further?” He raises his brow before releasing an amused chuckle. “Go for it. Can I ask you to make sure she doesn’t run too much? One of her legs doesn't function, but she’s too stubborn to sit still.”
My heart breaks. “Can I ask what happened?”
“It’s common for mother cows to step on their children after birth. She didn’t see her below and stepped on one of her legs, but Lottie’s a fighter and doesn’t let it get to her.” he wipes his hand on his pants. “I’ll be inside finishing up some work, call me if she does anything atrocious.”
“What counts as atrocious?”
“Shitting.”
Great way to lighten up the conversation. “Will do, sir.”
He saunters back into the barn, “It was nice meeting you. And Nova?” Gabriel then turns around, “Even if you’re not here looking for love, I hope you find something close to it.”
Part of my smile falls. The world doesn’t need to revolve around finding love. In my world, if you’re surrounded by it then that’s good enough.
I walk towards Lottie.
She’s sitting on her tiny butt, looking ahead at the sky .
Lottie huffs when she hears me approaching her but says nothing when I push down to my butt beside her. Only staring at me with her curious eyes. “Aren’t you a pretty baby,” I coo while running a hand down her back.
She’s perfect to me.
Lottie watches suspiciously until my palm rubs a spot that makes her eyes shut.
“Did you know,” the shadow of larger mountains illuminates at a distance.
“Those mountains over there,” pointing at them.
“Are the Swiss Alpines.” Lottie high pitches a moo, but it sounds like she understands me.
“Poets like Wordsworth wrote about it—or I think he wrote about Mont Blanc, something like that.” I ramble.
“But, Mary Shelley the author of Frankenstein and her husband, Percy Shelley wrote about it too. Byron had this journal…” I make motions with my hands trying to remember the name of it.
“The Alpine journal where he wrote about the route and his journey to the Alps. It’s pretty cool,” I end with a scratch behind her ear. “You should read it sometime.”
She merely rumbles like she’d rather eat a lamb than read.
The buzz of excitement from knowledge I learned in University swoops away with the wind when I remember who I am again.
Nova Rivera, florist . No longer an English undergrad student. No longer holding the ability to coherently words off a page without wanting to pluck my eyeballs out.
Before the tears have the chance to invade a beautiful moment, I take my phone out of my pocket. Scroll through a dozen, call me , messages from Ma . Then, snap a picture of Lottie on my lap before sending it to Sunny.
Her face pops on my phone.
“Tell me why you’re not sleeping right now.”
“Because my best friend just sent me a pic of a cow on her and I can’t function,” she sounds appalled. “Why is that thing just resting on you?”
“Thing? Girl…” I’m instantly myself with her. “It’s not some rabid disease.”
“It is to me,” she mutters. “What’s up, girlie pop? You haven’t posted, didn’t text, and now I’m wondering if you still love me.”
“Hello?” I pull my phone back and stare in shock. “Is this my best friend Sunny? It can’t be because that girl hates affection.”
“ Har-har . You’re so funny.” She says dryly. “Quit the florist-y shit and start stand-up comedy.”
“Only if you’re in the front row for me to make fun of,” I add.
“I’d like to see you try,” she snorts. “You’d start complimenting me.”
Very true. “How are you?”
“Ain’t no way you’re putting it back on me, answer me first.”
Bottom lip is going to rip off if I keep biting it. “My mom keeps calling me.”
“So… Answer?”
“You know I can’t do that, Sunny. She’s…”
“Send her a text, telling her that you can’t talk to her. When did she call you?”
“This…” Morning. Last night. When hasn’t she called me? “Since yesterday. Doesn’t she sleep?”
“No worried mother can sleep.”
I resume my petting. “I wish she could just…” forget about me again .
Sunny knows almost everything about me, except my life before my dad got released from prison. Those are some… what do people call it? Trauma? Yep, that’s what it is.
Using trauma as an excuse for my actions is a thing for the past, I can’t do that anymore because that just means I haven’t grown.
But if I tell someone like Sunny about it then she’s gonna think I’m being dramatic, and I’d rather feel like I’ve grown myself than have someone tell me that I need to move on.
“You’re not gonna listen to anything I say, so tell Nadine to make up some excuse for her and then deal with it when you come back.” I don’t say anything. “Now tell me what it’s like being on camera?”
“Weird,” I reply.
“Scripted?”
“Technical,” I say. “Nothing is pretty behind the scenes. It’s awkward and forced.”
Sunny yawns. “Can’t wait to watch the first episode and screenshot ugly pics of you.”
“It’s cute that you think I can look ugly.”
“Whatever,” she yawns again. “You still love me.”
“Always,” I reply and then I say goodnight because she’s about to start snoring in less than two minutes.
Mindlessly, I rub over Lottie’s fur while staring out at the mountains. I can’t see them, but I can see the outline of them.
If you told me when my professor talked about the Swiss Alpines during my third year British Romanticism course, that I’d have the chance to see it in person—I’d accuse you of lying—but then I’d be saying sorry because wow .
I don’t know how Mary, Percy, or Byron did it.
I’m having a hard time believing they didn’t stare from this exact spot and back out. You need courage and a whole lot of energy drinks to climb those mountains.
None of which I have.
No matter how much I’ve tried to talk Lottie out of following me back to the house, she doesn’t listen. She made some kind of huff sound, then kept shuffling over the bridge with her body brushing against my knees.
“At one point,” I say to her. “You’ll need to learn how to listen to your elders. You’re lucky I don’t care much about discipline otherwise?—”
My feet jolt to a stop.
On the stairs of my balcony, Dean sits with a tablet smaller than his hands. His elbows rest on his knees, and his eyes are squinting with ease.
Seeing him in sweats and a hoodie will never cease to surprise me.
I’m debating on interrupting to get to my room or picturing fan edits of him right now.
Lottie decides for me and wobbles over to Dean.
He doesn’t jump or look taken aback, instead he looks at Lottie with hard eyes before softening. Running a vine-filled hand down her strong back.
I cough softly. “Someone needs to teach her about stranger danger.” The lump buries itself deeper in my throat.
His heavy-set gaze lands on me. Unnerving me from toe to heart. “Good morning, Nova.”
If his voice recorded audiobooks, I could read again.
“Morning, you’re good with her.” I walk towards them, using Lottie to keep me a safe distance away from him. “How are you up early?”
“Habit,” he replies quickly then adds, “I used to work on a ranch.”
It takes me a second to understand.
Nova, you idiot.
I chew on my bottom lip, swaying side by side. “Did you miss the ranch when you were in pris?—”
“How’d you meet her?” He refers to Lottie with a tilt to his head.
Avoids talking about his past? Check.
“She met me, actually. I was in the garden, looking at the plants when she came to me.”
“She’s a beauty.” Dean shuffles over, “Do you want to sit?”
I shouldn’t.
Yet, I still find my way crouching in the tight space next to him.
His thick thighs brush against mine. Warmth warps around us in a thick blanket.
“Is that an E-Reader?” I point to the tablet.
He nods, “It is.”
“What are you reading?” I turn my body to face his. “Don’t tell me it’s a self-help book?”
“Some would call it that,” he hands the E-Reader to me, then uses both hands to pet Lottie. She looks content as she is.
I do a double take at the cover.
A romance. Not just that, it’s a Rom-Com with a cartoon cover.
I know this book. I was obsessed with the cover when it first came out. The pink, the pastel yellow, a man and a woman facing opposite to each other connected by the line of… well, a phone. A radio-show host and a single-mom. I haven’t read it but it’s been on my ReadGoods Tbr for a while.
“Self-help book indeed,” I swallow hard. Handing the tablet back to him. “I didn’t know you liked reading.” I don’t know anything about you.
Dean’s jaw clenches as he stares at the cover. “I like a lot.”
“Bet talking isn’t included in that,” I joke then let silence take over before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here, Mr. Vuk?”
“It didn’t seem like the right time. ”
“And showing up without a warning did?” I raise my brows. Lottie notes the difference in tension, one back and forth between us, she deems us boring and wobbles away to eat a plant.
The muscles in his thigh constrict.
Emotional tension barges through us, but he doesn’t make an effort to answer or at the very least explain himself.
You have to agree that it doesn’t make sense.
“Do Azar and Callahan know that you’re here?” I push another question. “If you had good intentions of being here, wouldn’t you tell your family?”
“Mr. Vuk to me but Azar and Callahan to them?” A sardonic chuckle spills from his lips. He gets up, taking the warmth with him. “Didn’t know you did equality like that, Miss Rivera.”
He turns his back to face me.
I roll my lips back, sucking in an agitated breath. “You’re avoiding my questions.”
“I’m avoiding answering what doesn’t matter,” his back muscles pull against each breath.