Chapter 16
Sophie
Friday after school, I spotted Jo at the grocery store. Even from the back, it was easy to recognize her in her signature work overalls, her hair caught up in a no-nonsense bun at her nape.
"Jo! How was your conference?" I asked. "You didn't come back married, did you?"
She rolled her eyes at my teasing. "The wildest thing I did was beer tasting," she promised.
"That's a shame," I said, tutting gently.
"I hear you had some excitement while I was away."
I flushed under her examination. Could she see the crush on her brother coming out my pores?
"Yeah, Bee-gonia and I had a small mishap. I appreciate you letting me stay in your room to recover."
"I'm glad you're okay."
I shrugged, burying my misgivings about flying again under a layer of casual grace. "Davis is going to help me get my burner to Spokane to get checked out on Saturday. I'm sure I'll be up and flying again in no time."
"I heard," she said.
Her tone was mild enough, but the underlying edge made me examine her more closely.
"You're okay with it?" I asked.
"With you crashing? No. You're my friend, and that sounds terrifying. With you dating my brother? I'm getting used to the idea."
I wrinkled my nose, ready to defend my crush, but she waved a hand at me before I could speak.
"I'm not trying to warn you off. It's just that Davis doesn't have the best track record with relationships. He's a little like our dad that way."
"What way?" I asked.
I'd never met their dad. He'd retired before I moved to Campfire. My information on Jo and Davis's family was sparse. I knew their mother had left decades ago. Their aunt lived in town, but she was the only relative I'd met.
Jo sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not my story to tell." She placed a gentle hand on mine. "Listen, forget I mentioned it. Enjoy your date with Davis. I think you'll be good for him."
Her smile was strained around the edges, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to hear whatever she was holding back.
But she wanted me to hear it from Davis.
I forced a smile. "No problem."
Navigating the landmines of dating Jo's brother was going to take some time to figure out. Putting her in the middle wasn't fair, and I wouldn't push.
"I'll see you on Tuesday night?" I asked instead.
She nodded, appearing relieved that I'd changed the subject. "Yes. I brought back a growler from my conference that I thought we could all try."
I tried not to let my nose wrinkle. Beer and I weren't friends.
"Goody," I said, injecting as much enthusiasm as I could muster into the word.
"I'll see you then."
Jo headed for checkout, and I continued to wander the store, absently adding pasta and the ingredients for my lunches to my cart.
Davis could be pretty closed-off, but until Jo suggested it, I hadn't considered that he carried some big secret. Was there really something about his relationship track record that would scare me off? Was that possible?
Davis was still Davis. And I was far from perfect. I'd dated plenty back in Spokane. While the pool of available single men had dried up considerably when I moved to Campfire, I'd still been out a few times. Some duds, a few that had potential but fizzled. Nothing very exciting. Nothing noteworthy.
***
I jumped out of bed Saturday, eager to get my weekend chores handled so I could enjoy my afternoon with Davis.
He'd suggested picking me up at two for the drive to Spokane.
I needed to drop my burner off at the repair shop near the Spokane airport before they closed.
I would feel like a weenie if I asked Davis to take the back roads and avoid I-90, but the less time I spent white-knuckling it on the freeway, the better.
I ate a quick lunch after finishing my laundry and cleaning, then settled on the couch to grade papers while I waited for Davis.
My phone buzzed, and I reached for it eagerly, hoping it was Davis letting me know he was leaving the farm to come get me.
Davis: I need to cancel. Sorry.
Disappointment washed through me, followed swiftly by worry.
Sophie: Is everything ok?
Davis: Compressor failure on our glycol chiller.
That meant nothing to me, but I still felt bad for Davis and Jo.
Sophie: So sorry. We can reschedule, no worries.
Davis: Let's cancel.
My breath caught at his dismissal, but I tried again. He was probably stressed. Whatever a chiller was, I bet it was expensive.
Sophie: Why don't I bring dinner to you if you're busy?
Davis: No time.
I bit my lip. I'd promised myself I wouldn't beg. If he wasn't invested, then I'd move on.
Listlessly, I stared at my phone, rereading his rejection. I let myself feel bad for five minutes, then pushed my shoulders back.
Bee-gonia had to fly again, which meant I needed to get on the road if I wanted to drop off the burner and make it back before dark. At least I wouldn't have to explain my reluctance to take the freeway to Davis.
I hopped in the car, determined to take care of Bee-gonia myself.
Part of me wanted to believe that Davis was still interested, regardless of our canceled date. But didn't I deserve someone who was into me enough to at least reschedule? His text had been abrupt to the point of rude.
Had he grown tired of me before we even started? I could accept that not everyone liked me. I tried to be cheerful, and that rubbed some people the wrong way. Ditto my attempts to get others to talk.
I'd felt terrible when an ex had pointed out that I wanted to talk with everyone but him on our dates.
Not true, but also a good indicator why we weren't a good match.
Even though Davis seemed gruff, I'd thought he found my prattling more charming than annoying.
It was awful, the thought that I could be wrong.
Maybe it was time to embrace the single life as my lot. But I couldn't even pretend to want that. Not really. I missed touch. Friendly hugs were one thing, but I yearned for the closeness that came from intimacy with a partner.
The glimpses of how affectionate Davis could be, contrasted against his coldness over text, hurt.
I was ashamed to admit that I still wanted him to touch me.
All over. But every time we managed a step forward, something destroyed our progress.
It was messy and non-linear. I could get on board with that, weather the storms, if I only knew how he really felt.
But the dratted man was elevating being close-lipped to an artform.
The drive to Spokane passed in record time, with me barely aware of the world outside my windshield, too preoccupied with my thoughts.
Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I made the turn onto the access road near the airport.
The small FAA-certified repair shop sat back from the road.
It didn't look like much from the outside, but they had the expertise I needed to diagnose the problem with Bee-gonia's burner.
After dropping off my precious cargo with Hank, who assured me he'd call after he had a chance to rip into it, I hopped back in my car for the drive home.
It was odd to think of Campfire as home after so many years in Spokane, but the city felt strange now. Even the outskirts felt foreign. Too big.
My folks would be disappointed that I didn't drop by, but they'd also understand the reasons why. Back roads were my friend.
Continuing to live in Spokane and drive on I-90 after my accident had been nearly impossible. Maybe the fear would subside over time, but multi-lane, fast-moving cars made my heart race and sent clammy chills through my body.
My actual memories of the crash were more like snapshots than a continuous replay, but even those flashes were almost more than I could handle.
They still hit me at unpredictable times, even though it’d been close to ten years since my accident.
For the longest time, driving was impossible, but as the fear faded, my memories kept me in a chokehold.
I’d be happy if I never drove a major freeway again.
That day snapped my tenuous hold on the belief in my own immortality, and driving in heavy traffic was still a stark reminder of my very human fragility.
I stared at the yellow and white lines, focusing on my breathing and keeping my car between them. I let the sameness of those unending lanes soothe some of the fear that jangled my nerves.
A truck passed me from behind, sending me hurtling into memories of the past.
At first, everything had been fine. I was buzzing along in the middle lane on I-90, singing along to my music. I’d been excited to meet some friends at a local water park, cruising on good vibes and anticipation.
In a flash, a car in front of me went airborne, caught mid-flip. It happened so fast, I couldn’t even process the horror. We collided, and my vision turned white, all airbag. Everything hurt. Pain pricked at me with a thousand knives. Then, nothing.
My fractured memories of the accident protected me, and I didn’t like to dwell on those lost hours.
The ride to the hospital, the police interviews, everything else was a blur.
My car had been totaled, and I was grateful to be alive.
The originating driver wasn’t so lucky. I tried to focus on how fortunate I was instead of how close I came to dying that day, but my gratitude only fed the underlying guilt I couldn’t quite shake.
I’d walked away with minor injuries, at least on the outside.
Since then, I white-knuckled it on any multi-lane freeway, sure someone was going to crash into me. Once had been more than enough for one lifetime.
I was thankful every day I hadn't been badly injured. Mostly, I’d walked away with bruises and cuts, all much less serious than they could have been. My gratitude was tempered by my ongoing dread. Driving would never be the same. I'd lost any belief in invincibility, or in the harmlessness of cars.
Shuddering, I pushed away the lingering memories of the crash, focusing instead on the road in front of me. I breathed through my nose, out through my mouth in attempts to calm my racing heart. I peeled my fingers from the steering wheel, shaking one hand then the other to return blood flow.
It had been a mistake to take the trip on my own. Driving solo always made the memories worse.
There was no one to distract me.
Davis would have been the perfect antidote.
I grimaced, making the familiar turn onto the final road into Campfire, trying not to dwell on my disappointment.
While Campfire's dating pool only consisted of men who'd throw me over for an equipment issue, it had plenty of rural roads where I didn't feel hemmed in by traffic and my anxiety.
Win some, lose some.
My apartment felt unbearable after an afternoon spent in the car, so I texted Gwen.
Jo would no doubt be consumed by the chiller incident, and it felt awkward reaching out to her so soon after Davis bailed on our first date.
Izzy was likely either working at Slice or getting loved up at home with Ivan.
The newlyweds spent every spare moment together, and I didn't see her breaking away for girl-time halfway through a Saturday evening.
Likewise, Eve had succumbed to Brady's charms. That left Gwen as my best option for my version of a rousing Saturday night: drinks at Sing-along.
Sophie: My date canceled. Can I talk you into a drink at Sing-along tonight?
Gwen: Sure. My dating life is like a corpse flower.
I cackled. I'd heard of the super-rare giant flowers. And given Davis’s move to cancel our date, I could relate.
Sophie: Dead on arrival?
Sophie: Stinking up the place?
Gwen: That too. I was going to say I don't HAVE a corpse flower.
Gwen: Also, they only bloom every couple of years.
Sophie: Ouch.
Gwen: So, yeah. Totally free. Pick me up?
Grinning, I grabbed my purse and headed out.
Maybe it wasn't the evening I'd envisioned, but good girlfriends were a better bet for long-term happiness anyway.
Longing for Davis was getting me nowhere.
His affection was just as elusive as the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Until he could show me he was serious about turning our relationship into more than a flirtation, I was better off flying solo.
Maybe that was the hurt talking, but I deserved more than a man who bailed and dismissed my offer to reschedule.
If I put my whole heart into someone, it didn’t seem like it was asking too much for consideration in return.
I’d hoped I was slowly chipping away at Davis’s shell, getting to the man underneath.
But if I’d been fooling myself, it was better to learn that now, before my heart was irrevocably his.
Caring too much for Davis wasn’t the safe choice, and it was time to remember that. He’d just proven he could turn on me at any time. Giving too much, too soon was a sure recipe for a broken heart.