Chapter Twenty-TwoMicahOctober 23
Chapter Twenty-Two
Micah
The next two days are madness. As the lodge reopening looms closer, Lila has me triple checking with vendors and counting dishes and sorting decorations long into the night.
The only reason I’m okay with it is because all of the planners are working late too, though I honestly have no idea what they’re doing because they’re not doing anything related to the event, as far as I can tell.
So maybe the only reason I’m okay with it is because it means I can make sure this reopening goes off without a hitch.
It’s ridiculously stressful, and not even a call from Chad can get me to relax.
“Hey,” I say into my phone on Wednesday morning. I’m deep into wiring LED lights around the branches of a few fake trees in our storage room on the first floor of our building, so I’m not really focused on the call.
Chad picks up on that immediately. “You sound funny.”
I shrug. “Sorry, just a little busy. What’s up?”
“I love you.”
I pause, pulling my phone away from my ear to look at the screen. As if that might help me make sense of what he just said. “What?”
“I know I don’t say it a lot, but I love you. You, and Houston, and Brooklyn. You’re all great.”
My heart beats faster as nerves build in my stomach. “Chad? Is something wrong?” Is he suddenly dying or something? Did he get abducted by a wronged client?
He laughs, though it sounds more like a giggle than his usual low chuckle. “Nah. Everything is great. I just miss you.”
“You sound drunk.”
“Just drugs.”
I nearly drop my phone. “What? Are you high ?”
“Pfft. High. I’m low. I’m on the floor right now because trouble won’t let me go outside and I’m sick of the couch.”
There’s definitely something wrong with him, but I don’t know what to do about it because he’s usually the one with the answers. “Chad, you’re scaring me.”
He groans. “No, that’s not what I… Drugs. I mean pills. Pain pills. They make me weird.” He groans again, like he knows exactly how little sense he’s making. “Hope is dangerous.”
He can say that again. I keep hoping Fischer will stop by, but I haven’t seen him since Monday night.
He and Grant are finalizing things on their end, making sure the lodge is cleaned and ready to go, with food and power and all the necessary permits and licenses.
He keeps texting me, though. It’s never anything special, mostly just “would you rather” questions that relate to the work we’re both doing, but I’m glad I’ve been on his mind.
“Are you okay, Chad?” I ask. Maybe I can convince Fischer to drive me to Laketown after the reopening on Saturday so I can check on my brother. It wouldn’t be that far out of the way.
He hums. “I’m fine. Hurt my foot. No biggie.”
If he’s on pain pills strong enough to make him loopy, that sounds like a biggie. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I wanted you to know that you’re great. Just like the twins. You all saved me.”
“Saved you from what?”
“Trouble is back. Gotta go.” He hangs up, leaving me feeling off kilter and wishing I had Fischer here to steady me.
I was bolder than I thought I would be on Monday night when I asked him why he hadn’t tried to date me, but his answer—both of them, honestly—wasn’t what I expected. I have no idea what to do with his response, so I’ve been trying not to think about it.
I’ve mostly been failing.
I call Brooklyn on my lunch break and fill her in on the Fischer details I was too scared to tell her during our movie night, and then I tell her about Monday’s dinner. (I keep Chad’s weirdness to myself for now. I don’t have the bandwidth to think about it.)
“I told you he was in love with you,” she says, maybe a little too gleefully.
“Uh, no, you didn’t say that, and you’re wrong. He might like me, but there’s no love happening here, Blondie.” Ugh, even I think that sounded completely flimsy, and I facepalm as I pace the sidewalk outside the Ember office building. I needed some sunshine after not seeing it at all yesterday.
“Did you invite him to trivia night?”
I scoff. “I was going to, but then I went and asked why he wouldn’t date me, like an idiot.”
“I don’t think that’s idiotic. It’s brave.”
“Is it though? Because his answer made a lot of sense, and I’m terrified that he really believes he’s incapable of loving me.
Desire and attraction aren’t the same as love, and even if he were to kiss me—which I would enjoy immensely—it wouldn’t necessarily mean deep and lasting affection.
If there’s no chance of that, what’s the point of pursuing anything more than friendship?
What if he’s totally right about keeping his emotional distance? “
Brooklyn waits a second, probably to see if I’m done with my little rant. “Okay, first of all, I don’t think anyone who looks at someone the way Fischer looked at you on Saturday could be incapable of love. That man is completely besotted.”
“That’s a good word.”
She laughs. “Yes, it is. Second of all, relationships go both ways. You can’t let him make decisions for you.”
“But neither can I make him date me if he doesn’t want to.
” I know all of this. I’ve read enough love stories to know that it takes both sides coming together to make a relationship work.
What I don’t know is how to navigate my own love story because I haven’t read any books about a man who is simultaneously the swooniest guy I’ve ever met (low bar, there) and completely emotionally unavailable.
He makes me feel like I’m the only one who truly knows him while he keeps his shield up so high that I’ve barely scratched the surface of who he is.
“Wait,” Brooklyn says. “Did he say he’s incapable of loving in general, or just incapable of loving you ?”
I freeze. What did he say? “Just love in general, I guess. He did say he was trying, whatever that means.”
“It means you don’t have to worry, Half-pint. Just give him some time to figure things out.”
I don’t want to give him time. I want to know if what I feel for him can turn into something more. “Did you invite Jordan to trivia?” I ask to change the subject.
Brooklyn groans. “Sort of? It’s really complicated right now, so I don’t know if he would even come.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“Brooklyn! You can’t leave me hanging like this!”
She says something too quiet for me to hear, which probably means she’s talking to someone else. “Sorry,” she tells me. “I’ve got a student here that I really need to talk to. Invite Fischer to trivia, and everything will be okay. I promise.”
“How can you promise something like that?”
“Because I’m your big sister. That’s our superpower.”
“That’s not a real thing.”
“Love you, Mic.”
“Love you too, Brook. See you tomorrow.”
The last thing I want to do right now is go back into the office to work, but I’m so close to this Greenwood event that I tell myself to suck it up and make it through this week.
If nothing else, I have to see it all come together.
After that… After that, I might have to seriously consider looking for another job before Lila drives me completely nutso.
When I make it back to my desk, a brightly colored bouquet pulls me to a stop.
That wasn’t there when I headed outside.
With a smile blooming on my face, I hurry forward in search of a note but come up empty.
Is it from the pizza guy as an apology for standing me up?
But no, he doesn’t know where I work. So maybe a second try from one of my past dates?
The only other explanation is…
I’m barely brave enough to hope. Grabbing my phone, I send off a text with a picture of the flowers and hold my breath as I wait for the answer that comes quickly.
Me: Is this your sad attempt at guessing my favorite?
Fischer: No.
My heart sinks. Maybe they aren’t from him? It must be my dad with another attempt at convincing me to move to Diamond Springs.
My phone buzzes again, and I look down.
Fischer: This is me figuring you could use some flowers to brighten your day, but I didn’t want to waste my guess so I picked all of the flowers that aren’t your favorite.
Oh. That’s really sweet.
Me: You don’t think daisies or carnations are my favorite?
Fischer: While they suit you, no. They’re not your favorite.
He seems so confident, though it’s easy to sound confident in a text. Would he be this certain if I were standing in front of him?
Me: Okay, Mr. Smarty-pants! What’s my favorite?
Fischer: Patience.
Me: That’s not a flower!
Fischer: *eye roll emoji*
Me: Wow, I didn’t know you knew how to use emojis!
Fischer: I am older than you, but I can be hip with the kids and their lingo.
Fischer: Pretend I didn’t just say that.
Me: I just screenshotted this whole conversation and will be sharing it on every social media account I have!
Fischer: You forget I have a roommate who can make any evidence of this conversation disappear.
Me: How is Broccoli doing?
Fischer: You were right. He picked the name Brock because broccoli and kale are in the same family. Kale isn’t even his real name, but he won’t tell me what it is.
“Taylor!” Lila’s shout makes me jump.
“Guess my lunch break is over early,” I mutter, wishing I had stayed outside longer. I just have to make it until Saturday. Once Saturday is over, I’m taking control of my life. And figuring out Kale’s real name.
I send one last text to Fischer before putting my phone on silent so I won’t be distracted when I should be working.
Me: Do you want to come to dinner with me and my family tomorrow? I would love for you to meet them!
When I crawl into bed around ten that night, completely exhausted, Fischer still hasn’t responded, and I tell myself not to worry.
That doesn’t mean I accomplish that, but I try my best, spending the night dreaming that Fischer has decided to cut all ties because I’ve moved far too quickly and scared him away.