Chapter 3 #2
I hadn’t expected how that question would stab me in the gut, but it did. I held back the internal wince, not wanting to show it. If it weren’t for the damn disease, I would have still be serving. I was going to have to bring that up with my therapist next time we talked.
“Nah, I’m out now. Visiting for a bit.” There, that sounded suitably unbothered.
Something lit in Harris’s expression. “Really?”
Could it be interest? I wouldn’t be mad at that at all. I gave him a smile. “Yeah, I’ll be around for—dammit. Sorry.”
My stupid CGM alerted and as much as I wanted to ignore it to flirt with Harris, I couldn’t do that.
I pulled out my phone. My glucose was 69 and falling slowly.
I needed to eat. I had low snacks in the truck, fruit gummies and apple sauce pouches, for times like this. I just needed to get back there.
“Let me go get my truck and bring the arch to the…Morgan called it a party barn?”
Harris nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
Shit. I didn’t want him to see me stuffing fruit snacks in my face, but I couldn’t think of a way to get out of it without being a jerk. I nodded and walked quickly, even knowing that would make my blood sugar drop even more. Harris had no trouble keeping up.
Thankfully, he didn’t talk and we made it to the truck in good time.
I reached into the center console and found a packet of gummies, then ripped it open and dumped the whole thing in my mouth, chewing quickly.
It would take at least fifteen minutes for them to work though, and we’d have to lift the arch out of the truck.
Before I put the vehicle in gear, I grabbed a second packet and ate that too.
Harris watched me but didn’t say a word. He simply waited for me to be done and then pointed where I needed to go. My app alerted again. I didn’t bother to check the number.
“If you need to answer that, I can wait,” Harris said quietly.
“No. It’s not…” I sighed, wondering why I was so reluctant to explain. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. Another thing to bring up with my therapist. “It’s a low blood sugar alert. The fruit snacks will work in a few minutes.”
“Ah.” Harris was quiet for a second. Then, “Diabetes?”
“Latent Autoimmune Diabetes in Adults,” I said, accentuating the words so he would know it was the official diagnosis. “Some people call it type one point five, but that’s sort of not right. Basically, my pancreas worked just fine until it didn’t.”
Harris nodded. “That sucks. I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re no longer an active Marine.”
His word choice was interesting. Clearly he knew something about the Corps.
Once a Marine, always a Marine. But he was right so I just nodded a confirmation.
Given my current mental state about the whole thing, I wasn’t prepared to elaborate or share anything else.
I reminded myself that I didn’t owe him, or anyone else, any kind of explanation.
What I assumed was the party barn came into view.
Two men were leaning against the siding near the door.
When I got close enough, I executed a perfect three-point turn so the bed was closest to the entrance.
As soon as I stopped, the taller of the two men moved, dropping the tailgate.
Harris turned sideways in his seat to face me.
“Maybe I’ll see you around?”
I liked the hopeful lilt of his words, like maybe he wanted to actually see me again. Was it wishful thinking on my part? Possibly. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind seeing him again. But I didn’t want to put any undue pressure or expectation on myself, so I just nodded.
“Probably. I’ll be in town through New Year’s.”
“Good.” He smiled, then popped open his door. He paused before he hopped out. “You good to drive?”
He clearly knew something about diabetes too, because it was unsafe to drive with low blood sugar.
It was considered an impairment. I snatched up my phone and checked the app, once again grateful I’d chosen a CGM that updated every minute and had good accuracy.
The number was still below seventy, but the arrow pointed straight up.
“I will be in a few minutes,” I answered honestly.
“Take as long as you need.” He got out and went to shut the door. Before he closed it, he offered me a small smile. “See you around, Tyler.”
Okay, maybe I wasn’t imagining it. Because the way he said my name?
All deep and husky like that? Yeah, there was definitely some meaning behind it.
I winked at him, going for flirty, and I thought it worked based on the way he sucked in a short breath.
But Harris didn’t say anything else and shut the door, heading toward the back of my truck.
I totally watched his ass in the side view mirror. What I could see of it under the edge of his coat anyway.
I turned my head, looking back over my shoulder, and saw that the men had gotten the box out of the bed. The short one slammed the tailgate back into place, then Harris held the door open while the other two carried the box through. All right then. My delivery job was done.
Another glance at the phone showed my numbers over the low point now, but I knew it would be smart to sit for a few more minutes and let the sugar do its job.
I responded to the text my dad sent a little while ago, assuring them I was having fun and thanking him again for sending my supplies to me.
I’d only brought one backup, thinking I’d only be here for a day or two.
But since I was now staying for a few weeks, I’d need more.
As if my thinking conjured it, Barrett sent a text.
Madeline (at the post office) just called to say your box arrived. Needs signature. You get? Or need me to?
Done here. I’ll grab it. Emerald Lantern after?
Meet there at 1600
Copy that
I dropped my phone back in the cupholder and put the truck in gear.
Since I wasn’t feeling any low symptoms, and my blood sugar would just continue to rise, I felt comfortable enough to drive now.
I glanced in the rearview and spotted Harris in the doorway.
I lifted my hand in a wave, waited until I got one back, and then headed back into town.
The post office was next to an empty lot in an old, squat building.
I’d seen the signage the other day when driving past, so it was easy enough to find.
Madeline was a sweet older woman who knew the art of small talk.
Just enough to be welcoming and conversational without being overbearing.
Given what Barrett and Morgan had said about the gossip mill in this town, it was nice to see.
I was in and out in a few minutes, box tucked under my arm and heading toward my truck, when shouting caught my attention.
I instantly went on alert, head swiveling until I located the source.
Across the street, two men were shouting at each other in the middle of a parking lot.
My feet were moving without conscious thought, the need to intervene and check ingrained in me.
They were so engrossed in their argument they didn’t even realize I’d come up on them until I was right there.
“Afternoon, gents. Everything okay?”
“Yes,” the tall one with dark hair and a wicked smile said at the same time the other man, shorter, leaner, and clearly had an eye for fashion snarled, “No.”
My gaze bounced back and forth between them, trying to assess what was going on. It would be easy to assume the bigger man was the aggressor, but I knew better than to assume. It didn’t appear physical, just verbal.
“Let’s start from the beginning. Tyler Galloway at your service.” I made a little bow, hoping that some humor would ease the tension a bit.
“Elliott Barlowe,” the taller man said with a chuckle. He gestured behind him. “I co-own Bark and Bloom.”
The shorter man’s scowl darkened. “That’s right. That shop. Not this shop.” He pointed to the store next door, the sign proclaiming it Yarn Voyage. “And certainly not the sidewalks.”
Oookay. Clearly I hadn’t done enough to defuse anything. I held out a hand. “And your name, you delectable creature?”
He blinked at me for a second then a wide smile graced his generous mouth. He took my hand with an elegant motion. “Carrington Ellis. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, good sir.”
He was adorable and I could tell he would be fun.
But even as I focused on Carrington, I didn’t miss the growl of discontent that escaped Elliott.
I didn’t look at him, but I did take a step back and released Carrington.
I moved so I could see them both. Something was going on here, something more than just an argument, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it.
“Maybe shouting in the middle of a parking lot isn’t the best idea, yeah?” I offered.
Elliott started to agree but Carrington snapped blazing eyes to him. “It wouldn’t be a problem if he’d just stop butting in. I can shovel my own damn sidewalk.”
“But you hadn’t and—”
Carrington let out a noise that was half a scream and turned his back on Elliott. He smiled at me, eyes still blazing. “You don’t have a hat and that is just unacceptable. We lose heat through our heads and it’s only going to get colder. Come inside, I have many. We’ll find you the perfect one.”
He latched onto my free arm, the one not holding the box, and tugged. I glanced at Elliott who threw up his hands and turned on his heel. He was definitely pissed off, his shoulders tight as he stomped toward his shop.
Carrington staunchly ignored him as he raked his gaze over me. “Let me guess, you’d be happy with something red and gold?”
I barked a laugh. “I mean, yes. But what about something more festive?”
The last of his anger faded away, his whole face lighting up. “I have just the thing!”