Chapter 12
The rest of the day went by in a blur of activity. Joe and I accomplished everything on my agenda with no hiccups. He was a very pleasant companion, and just as capable as I’d suspected. I introduced him to every person we met, and though he was wary at first, Joe began to relax as the day wore on.
His reactions were pretty predictable. Walls up.
Guarded. Slow to melt. He reminded me of frozen cookie dough.
Not impossible to bake, just…less malleable.
He did take my advice to heart though, and I could tell he was trying.
Earnest, as always, maybe a bit awkward but eager.
None of that felt all that alarming. I’d suspected he’d be that way.
I’d thought nothing of it, comforted by his predictability.
At least…until the questions started.
At lunch Joe asked me what my favorite color was. (Red.)
As well as how old I was. Jurassic. (Forty-three.)
Afterward in the car ride to the town hall—we’d opted to share a vehicle for practical reasons—Joe inquired if I’d been born in Belleville: to which I said, “No.” After that, he barely waited a beat before asking what my “hobbies” were.
I made a face, and Joe sighed and answered for me, “helping people.”
“That’s right,” I told him, my mouth running before I could catch it. “I’m practically Santa.”
That was a little too on the nose, so I quickly diverted him.
“What else?” Clearly, he was trying to get to know me in his Joe-ish way. Normally, I wouldn’t invite questions, but I’d flubbed myself up there, and figured there was no better way to distract him than by doing what he wanted.
A secret part of me felt thrilled he wanted to get to know me.
How we’d gotten here, I had no idea. But I was glad.
At least now the curiosity was mutual.
Though…I wasn’t sure I appreciated it being pointed my way—hypocritical as that was.
Joe got particularly excited when he asked me what my favorite animal was, and I said dog.
Which just opened up a whole can of worms. Because Joe immediately had to know what breeds I liked specifically, and if I’d ever had one, and what if so, and what their name was.
Awkwardly, I had to crush his dreams by admitting, no, I’d never had one, though I’d always wanted one.
And that already felt too close to home.
Too much information.
And we were back at square one. Me trying to dodge, and not sure how to do it.
It was getting harder and harder to dance around Joe’s questions in a way that wouldn’t expose my past.
“What about you?” I asked. His brow furrowed. “What’s your favorite animal?”
I could not have prepared myself for Joe’s reply to that.
It took him the remainder of the errands we ran—not exaggerating—to explain to me which animals were his favorites and why. He couldn’t pick only one. He had a reason for everything. Practically a bulleted list of what he loved about them, why, and whether or not he’d seen one in real life.
Dude should’ve been a zoologist, with the way he lit up as he talked about wild animals.
Birds were at the top of Joe’s list of favorites.
He thought the fact that their bones were hollow was fascinating. Loved the sounds they made. The different colors and shapes they came in. Told me one of the reasons he’d moved to Vermont was to do more birdwatching when he hiked—not that he’d had much time for that.
He admitted he missed having free time outdoors and couldn’t wait till after the holidays, and his house was finished, so that he could send Roderick a hiking picture.
I thought it was cute he had a friend he communicated through photographs with. That was it. Photographs. Joe told me, and then demonstrated by pulling his phone out and swiping through their text chain.
Photo, thumbs-up emoji, photo, thumbs-up emoji.
Without meaning to, he accidentally showed me the rest of his messages too. Patrick and Jordan were at the top of his inbox. And everyone else—aside from his brother, George—hadn’t spoken to him for weeks. Months, some of them.
Did Joe…still not have any friends? I know he’d said he hadn’t as a kid but…God, that thought made me sad.
This was the most Joe had ever talked, and I was remiss to stop him. I found myself driving around the back roads of Belleville to stall. I just wanted to hear what he had to say next. Never wanted his quiet ramblings to end.
We drove in loops, wasting time.
Joe never commented once, even though I knew he was clever enough to have caught what I was doing.
I learned about Joe’s siblings. The fact that he was the youngest. About his parents.
The way he talked about them made it clear how much he loved them.
I could see now, why their impending visit had left him feeling as much pressure as it had.
Love could be a complicated thing, sometimes. I often felt that with my mother.
When Joe asked me about my family, I was careful with my words.
“I’m an only child and my father is dead,” I explained. “It’s just my mom and me now.”
“Does she live around here?” he’d asked.
“A few hours north. Not far. I see her once a year around the holidays.” Not because we visited each other, per se. But because we always reconnected at the Christmas gala hosted at the ski lodge every year.
Ours was a relationship that had been forged long-distance. It felt odd to change that now. We both had our rhythms. I’d long ago stopped being disappointed by her.
Joe looked completely serene as he watched the colorful trees blur by.
Half the leaves had fallen now. The sky was overcast, a chill in the air that made me wish I’d thought to bring a coat.
He looked gorgeous sitting in the passenger seat of my car.
As though he belonged there. Settled with the seatbelt nestled between his supple pecs. Heater on full-blast.
“Are you always this…busy?” Joe inquired after a moment of silence.
“Around the holidays?”
“No…” Joe picked at his pants. There was a little hole there. No doubt he’d gotten snagged on something while wearing them. It didn’t look intentional. “I mean, normally. You always seem to be talking to someone…or doing something.”
Ah.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Why?”
He’d asked me a lot of “why’s” today.
“I like it,” I answered.
“Yeah,” Joe huffed. He slumped a little in his seat. Which did nothing to make him take up less space, as he was still fucking gigantic. “But why?”
God, what a brat.
So cute.
“Do you want the real answer or the socially acceptable one?”
I could give him a little, couldn’t I?
God, I hadn’t realized till he stepped into my life how badly I wanted to be seen. Mary was right. She was always right. I’d been keeping everyone at arm’s length. Joe especially. Holding on to a secret yes, but guarding who I was, too.
Keeping parts of myself under lock and key.
Never allowing anyone to detangle me.
To learn me.
Not the way I learned them.
Maybe Joe needed to be different. Even if all we ever had was friendship.
Maybe.
“The real one.” Joe gave me a grouchy look that made it clear he did not appreciate me offering him any other option. He was so adorable, all broad shoulders and gold hair. And those eyes, so solemn, so eager to learn.
The tables had turned.
“My youth was very…isolated,” I tried to explain.
“People were all talk. No substance. And yet…the quiet was worse. Up until recently, I used to abhor silence. It reminded me of being young and powerless. Of being…alone.” I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, anxious energy making my skin buzz.
It felt so weird to admit any of this.
It really, really did.
“When I moved to Belleville…I was blown away by how different it was. Everyone opened their arms to me. Showed me that I could be part of something bigger than myself. Showed me, not told me. I grew to love them in a way I hadn’t known I was capable of.
And being useful is my way of proving to them that I was worth that effort.
Plus…it’s hard to waste away in silence, when your schedule is overbooked. ”
Joe processed this for a moment.
“Does that answer your question?” I asked.
Joe nodded. The understanding in his eyes was more evident now than it’d ever been.
Nerves surrounding the act of oversharing buzzed beneath my skin. I almost wanted to make a joke. Play off what I’d just said. Deflect. But I didn’t. Instead, I took a deep, steadying breath. Let him in, I reminded myself. Try.
“You and I are friends,” I said definitively. “Which is the only reason I admitted any of this, when normally I never would.”
“If you don’t normally do it, why do it now?” Joe asked.
It was a good question.
Hard to answer when what I’d just admitted was as real as I’d gotten with anyone in my life. It felt like too much, too soon to give him more. But I did anyway.
“Someone wise recently told me that I don’t let people in,” I said. “So I’m trying.”
“For…me?” Joe looked confused, like the idea that he might be special to me was baffling. It was laughable. If there was one thing Joe was, it was special.
“For you,” I agreed. “I want to be better for you.” And then, because this conversation had veered way too close to uncharted territory, I did what I do best. I deflected. “Mary makes the best cherry pie in the world.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Joe blurted out, like he’d still been chewing through his thoughts and only now swallowed. “I’m good with secrets.”
“Thank you,” I said simply.
I smiled.
Joe nodded. His eyes drifted to my mouth, lingering there for a moment. Long enough, my heart began to dance. Then his gaze darted away, and his attention was back on the trees again.
I didn’t push.
Sure, I’d imagined it. That Joe staring at my lips was only wishful thinking.