Chapter Six
Silas
It’s taken me six years to realize the gravity of how badly I hurt Posey when she realized I hadn’t forgotten about our night together and then started dating someone else.
Although it was miscommunication on both sides, I should’ve gotten over my fear of rejection and spoken to her about it sooner.
You don’t talk about how to get over a heart break without experiencing it for yourself. So even if she gives me a hard time, teases me, and acts like she’s over everything that happened between us, I’m going to find a way to make it up to her.
Better late than never.
“I wish I hadn’t lied to Warren that day,” I blurt when our eyes meet.
She looks up, her brows pinched in confusion. “What?”
“The day after his weddin’. The conversation you overheard. If I hadn’t lied and said I’d forgotten most of the night, you never would’ve assumed I didn’t remember. I should’ve made up somethin’ else.”
“It was a long time ago, Silas. No point in rehashin’ the past.” She moves to walk past me, but I grab her arm. Her gaze lowers to where my fingers wrap around her.
“But I did remember,” I tell her, inching closer.
“I just…want you to know that you’d be impossible to forget, Posey.
Being the one to kiss and touch you, then later findin’ out I’d been the only one to have you that way, I’ve kicked myself for fumblin’ you ever since.
And maybe that’s why I’ve self-sabotaged and let someone like Aundrea treat me like shit. ”
She doesn’t move, just stares and swallows hard, and I worry I’ve crossed the line.
Posey stands behind a wall, using dry humor and sarcasm to protect herself, and it’s starting to make sense why she pushes people away.
Even if the guys are the ones to break up with her, it’s because she’s holding back to avoid getting hurt again.
From the way I hurt her.
“Posey?” I mutter softly when she doesn’t say anything.
She finally blinks. “Well, it’s a good thing we can be adults and move on from the past. Now you know you deserve better and won’t continue the pattern.”
This time when she moves to walk away, I let her.
Once I’ve picked up the kitchen and recycled our grocery bags, I pull out bread and cheese, then look for a can of tomato soup. I play music from my phone and get to work.
I sing along to my favorite song, and when I flip the first sandwich, the music stops, leaving me to belt the chorus on my own. When I tap my screen, it’s paused. So I hit the button and bop my head when the music returns.
Thirty seconds later, it happens again.
“What the hell?”
This time when I press the play button, I watch as it pauses on me two seconds later.
Deciding the app must be glitching, I delete it and then redownload it.
While I wait for it to load, I prepare the next sandwich and lather butter on the bread. After it’s on the pan with two slices of cheese, I check my phone and put my song back on.
Luckily, it plays normally and I continue singing.
Right when it’s my moment to shine and hit the final high note, it shuts off again.
“Motherfucker,” I grit between my teeth.
“She doesn’t like that song.” Posey’s voice behind me causes me to jump.
“Huh? Who?”
“Marjorie. It’s why she keeps turnin’ it off.”
With the spatula tight in my grip, I spin around and look for evidence of her. “She’s in here right now?”
“Seems like it,” she states without concern and opens the fridge. She pulls out the sweet tea and sets it on the counter. “She’s in her eighties. She’s not gonna like that hiphop pop stuff.”
“You’re fuckin’ with me…it’s a Wi-Fi issue, right? Right?”
She snickers, grabbing a glass. “Sure, the Wi-Fi.”
I know she’s lying, but I want to believe it.
“How’s it goin’ in here?” She peeks into the pan before I quickly flip it so it doesn’t burn.
“Yours is in the microwave keepin’ warm. Once I finished mine, I was gonna warm up the soup.”
Inhaling deeply, I smell her shampoo and fruity bodywash, then realize her hair’s wet.
“Did you shower?”
“Yeah, I took a quick one so you could get your clothes in the wash.”
“Oh.”
That’s unusually nice of her.
“I’ll probably head to bed at ten, so that should give you enough time to get your clothes out of the dryer before I need it.”
And there it is.
“Sounds good. I’ll do it as soon as I’m done eatin’.”
Posey takes her sandwich and soup to the small table in the kitchen. I join her, but we’re silent as we eat. As soon as she’s done, I take her dishes and rinse them in the sink. While I load them in the dishwasher, she gets the coffeemaker ready and scheduled for tomorrow morning.
“Look at us actin’ like an old married couple,” I tease.
“Sounds ‘bout right. No sex and sleepin’ in separate beds.”
I bark out a laugh. “Do you ever let your guard down, Posey? Or let yourself laugh and have fun?”
“Of course I do.” She wipes down the counter where she spilled a little of the water. “Just not usually ‘round men.”
I’m sure that was meant to be an insult but it makes me chuckle anyway.
Posey disappears for the next few hours to edit her videos while I do my laundry and organize my closet to fit my new clothes. Since there’s no TV in my bedroom, I sit in the living room and watch a rerun of an older show, hoping if Marjorie’s really here, she’ll approve and not mess with me.
At quarter to ten, Posey emerges with a white sheet mask on her face, her hair pulled back in some oversized headband, a pink plush robe that goes to her knees, and goat stuffies on her feet. She walks toward the laundry room with her massive comforter in her arms.
“What’re those?” I pause the TV and grin when she walks through after putting her blanket in the dryer.
“Slippers. Christmas present from Bellamy. Aren’t they cute?” She taps them together.
“Adorable. I wonder if they have my size so we could be roomie twins.”
“Afraid they’re sold out. They were a seasonal one-time sale,” she states quickly without apology.
“Hmm.” The corner of my lip tilts up at how bad of a liar she is. “Too bad.”
“Yep. Thank you for dinner, by the way. I forgot to say that and didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful. It was good.”
“You’re welcome, but I’d never think that about you.”
“Okay…” She bites her lip. “Well, good night. As soon as the dryer’s done, I’m gonna go to sleep.”
“You look cute.” I wave my finger around my face to indicate hers. “You have an extra?”
“You wanna wear a face mask?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind sharin’ one with me. The dirt and dust from the barn can’t be good for my skin.” I rub over my jawline dramatically so she’ll take pity on me.
“Okay, hold on.”
She leaves and returns a minute later with a small package.
“Lean your head back on the couch and close your eyes,” she orders, and I happily oblige.
The cold wetness causes me to shiver as she smooths it across my forehead and cheeks. The pads of her fingers slide under my chin, rubbing the serum into my facial hair and down my neck.
Even if she’s not meaning to, her soft touch drives me wild. It’s taking everything in me to breathe normally.
“How long do I gotta keep this on?” I mumble, barely able to open my mouth.
“Fifteen to twenty minutes.”
After she throws out the trash and washes her hands, I’m surprised when she sits on the couch next to me.
“Whatcha watchin’?”
I click play on the remote. “Golden Girls.”
She looks at me and although I can’t see underneath her mask, I can tell by the movement that she’s smiling. “Marjorie loves this show. I’ll come home to it playing when I never turned on the TV.”
“That’s what I was hopin’.”
If I can’t get Posey on my good side, the least I can do is get her house ghost on my side and to stop fucking with me.
When the dryer buzzes, she stays put to finish the episode. Then she returns without her mask and hands me a dry washcloth.
“Here, pat it dry,” she orders after removing my mask for me.
I do as I’m told, then rub my fingers over my clean face. “My skin’s never felt smoother.”
“For ten dollars a mask, it better.”
“For one mask?”
“Yep. But I buy ’em in bulk so it’s a smidge cheaper.”
“For that price, it better give me a shave job too.”
She snorts. “Wait until you learn how much facials cost.”
“Trust me, I know,” I groan, thinking about the time I bought Aundrea a gift certificate as part of her birthday gift and one session blew through half my budget.
As if she can read my mind, her expression shifts to one of pity.
“Well, thanks again. I’m gonna crash out too.” I stand, and we go to our separate bedrooms, catching each other glancing over our shoulders before closing our doors.
“You ready to learn how to milk?” Ian asks a half an hour after I clocked in.
I smack my hands together to brush off the dust. “If you think I’m ready, sure.”
Today’s my fifth day working here and the last day of my week-long trial. Up until now, I’ve been on cleaning and feeding duties.
His grin turns wicked as he smacks me on the back. “Guess we’ll find out.”
This must be some kind of test to determine if I’ll get to return on Monday.
After yesterday morning’s goat yoga, which I thought couldn’t get any worse than what it was on Tuesday, Posey had me in a revolved triangle pose.
On its own, it’s already hard for a newbie, but add a goat standing on my back while I bend and twist my spine, my hips and thighs were screaming.
I sucked it up because I didn’t want everyone to see me fail, especially since a few of them were recording me.
And of course, she teased me about being a city boy who needed to stretch more.
She’s not wrong because I woke up stiff with a pinched sciatica and it still hurts.
As Ian leads the way to the milking area, Emily waits next to a stand with one of the goats tethered and a bucket of grain to keep it distracted.
“She’s gonna teach ya how to do it,” Ian says.
“Wait…I’m doing it by hand?”
I’ve seen them use a machine.