Chapter 18
Later that week, as a lazy Sunday rolled around and the full moon reached its peak in the sky, the rumble of an engine broke me out of the haze my mind spiraled into.
All week, I waited in anticipation of a third date that had yet to occur.
I kept waiting for Arlo to surprise me and sweep me off my feet.
Yet each time I stopped by his shop, his head was in my bug with the tablet resting on the counter, streaks of oil smeared across the top of it.
Until that engine roared during lunch.
Lark drops her sandwich on the table, her eyes lighting up and a squeal on her lips. “Is that him?” she questions, but she already knows the answer as she darts down the hall and out the door. The screen slaps against the frame like a gunshot.
There is only one person we expected this weekend, and that’s Robin. By now, we’ve learned the sound of every single delivery vehicle from the way they hit the potholes in the road and speed down a street. T hey don’t know when every single citizen of Silent Springs wouldn’t dare speed.
But I know this engine well.
“Company?” Saffron raises a brow in question while she holds a large metal bowl in one hand as her other hand whisks batter for muffins.
“Company,” I answer, bouncing in my seat, my lunch forgotten as I rush after Lark.
In the driveway, my heart melts as I find Robin, with his luggage forgotten at his feet, as he holds Lark to him, hugging her with fierce abandon.
His bright green eyes find me through the frizz of her red curls that match his.
With a nod, a promise, he tells me my hug is next as he holds her closer, tighter.
It’s been too long, and my heart breaks just a little at the way Lark wraps herself up in the safety of her uncle.
I missed him.
I missed his stocky frame that reminds me of the picture of our father and his flaming red hair from our mother.
The smattering of freckles across the bridge of his once broken nose and those eyes of his that reflect mine.
The way he would walk through storms just to get to us leaves a lump in my throat and an ache in my soul that we aren’t closer.
But when my eyes settle on the army bag at his feet, the only keepsake he retained from those days, I wonder just how long he’ll stay.
Detaching Lark from his embrace, he sets her on her feet. “Look at you, sprout! When did you get so tall?”
“I can almost look Mom in the eyes.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” he stage-whispers, “even though we all know that’s the truth.”
“Hey, you.” Though the cold bites at my thin, long-sleeved shirt, when Robin wraps me up in a hug, all I feel is his warmth.
Growing up, it was only ever Robin and me after our parents died. Though Gram was around, she worked to provide for us. He was my best friend, my therapist, my only immediate family. Yes, we had Gram, but we shared a deep loss most kids never have to experience.
His hug tightens as I recall the last time I saw him, sitting beside me as we watched Eric’s casket lower into the ground.
The promising warm spring breeze was a hard contrast to just how I felt that day as Robin laced my fingers in his.
He almost didn’t head back to Maine that weekend, stating that I needed him more than the resort did.
I needed him, but I never voiced that need. Instead, I reminded him of the life he chose and that, for now, he needed to keep on living for the both of us while my heart took the time it needed to mend.
For the first time in the last year, I feel more healed from that wound than ever. Though Eric’s loss still burns with pain, an anguish that may never heal, it’s eased more and more in the weeks I’ve spent here.
“I missed you,” he mutters into my hair before sputtering out the strands.
I pull back, though I don’t want to, feeling even lighter than I did before. Robin is my safe space, and no matter what I’m feeling or going through, he will always carry a part of my burden. “Hey.”
“Hey back at you.” Stepping away, he grabs his duffle and swings it over his shoulder. “So this is Silent Springs?” He gazes around at the autumn landscape.
I know what he sees though. Through his eyes, he sees the town sans snow that landed me here.
Though it snowed less than three weeks ago, now the town looks as though autumn has settled all around us.
The leaves flutter to the ground in an array of warm tones, though the green grass remains vibrant.
Off in the distance, I can still hear the rush of the water over the rustling wind.
A hidden spring feeds the town its water supply, a place I have yet to find and one I anticipate exploring.
The peace of the town settles around us, and as I look back at my brother, I see the tension leave his shoulders as a crooked grin lifts his lips.
“Yeah, it is.” I hide my smile, knowing Robin won’t just see the expression there, but the feelings I’ve hidden deep inside.
“Come on, Uncle Robin, you have to meet Saffron.” Lark grabs his hand, dragging him inside the B&B. “Everyone will be here shortly! They can’t wait to meet you. Even Mom’s new boyfriend.”
I miss a step and go flying right into a puddle of mud. I face-plant into the soft ground where the remnants of the snow created the puddle. I push up, hearing Robin laughing so hard, I just know he’s got tears spilling from his eyes.
“Oh man, Wren.” His breath stutters as he tries to get the words out. “I’ve never heard of someone denying something so much they dive into a mud puddle.”
“Mom!” Lark gasps as I struggle to get out of the puddle, and directly to my right is that darn stone with the carving of a moose.
I swear that moose is haunting me. Freaking moose.
“Birdie?” Oh no, nerves flare in my stomach as Arlo calls out to me.
“Mom fell in the mud,” Lark announces, ratting me out.
“Birdie, are you okay?” Arlo asks.
I try to get up, I really do, but the mud is far slipperier than I expected.
“Mom fell because I called you her boyfriend.” Out of the mouths of babes.
I slip again, right into the mud.
Robin laughs even harder. “Hey, man, I’m Robin.”
“Hey,” Arlo says carefully. I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my head. “Do you need help?”
“No, no. I’ve got it.” I do not, in fact, have it, and I slip once more right into the mud. “This is my home now.”
“Anyone have rope we can pull her out with?” Robin tries to ask with a seriousness that is nothing but fake.
“Birdie.” Arlo’s boots squelch in the mud as he hovers over me, and with the strength of Aquaman, whom the ladies and I drooled over last night, he lifts me up and sets me on that stupid moose stone.
Covered in mud, I raise my chin and stare at Robin. His dimples deepen as he struggles not to laugh at me. “Robin. As you were.”
Bursting out laughing, he does what I should have expected any sibling to do. He whips out his phone and takes a picture—several in fact, if the sound of the shutter is any indication. And oh I believe it.
“You’ve got a little something.” He wipes under my eye. “Naw, you are just going to have to get washed.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Wren!” Saffron shouts from the steps. “Hose out back. Arlo, you got her?”
My headstone will read, “Died of mortification.” Luckily, all the mud keeps the blush hidden on my face.
“Hug me, brother.” I reach out to Robin, who hops backward, still snapping pictures. Lark runs inside, and he follows her in.
Traitors.
Saffron trails after them, and a moment later, the sound of the lock clicking home settles my fate.
Spinning, I find Arlo covered in mud from lifting me. Uncaring of the cold, he whips off his flannel, leaving his torso in nothing more than an undershirt. “Come on. We have to move fast, or you will catch hypothermia.”
“That’s the subtitle for my headstone,” I mutter as I carefully step around the mud, my shoes squelching in the grass. Why is there so much mud? This should be preventable.
With a chuckle, Arlo leads me around the side of the house to a little shed and a hose. “Would it be so bad?”
“Dying of hypothermia?” I question, kicking off my shoes to stand in the grass in my ruined socks. “No. I once read a story about a man falling through ice and his body just stopped. When he thawed, he lived.”
“No, that’s not—” He shakes his head at me, a rogue smile on his lips. “Would it be that bad to call me your boyfriend?”
Oh no. We are doing this now? While I’m covered in mud and my teeth chatter, just looking at the hose in his hands?
Yes.
No.
I don’t even know what to say as my heart beats far too fast in my chest and my breathing shudders in my lungs. I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins, and I can taste its bitter flavor on my tongue.
“Birdie,” Arlo prompts with mischievousness that I am not prepared for. Stepping close, he presses me against the side of the shed, uncaring of the mud caked on my clothing. “I asked a question.”
“I don’t know what’s happening right now,” I whisper, my eyes wide with only the whites showing.
I refuse to allow this to become our first kiss.
But oh, it would be memorable.
Muddy. Dirty. Not at all like any other kiss I’ve ever had. This would destroy all kisses that came before, and judging by the way Arlo is looking at me right now, he is entirely all too aware of that fact.
“I’m asking if you calling me your boyfriend would be so bad.” He slowly covers my body with his, propping his arm above us on the shed, his baby blue eyes sparkling as they watch me from above.
“I don’t know,” I answer with honesty. While my body burns with his heat driving away the chill, so many factors contribute to the need my physical body yearns for.
Like a mental connection, which we have. With every new piece of information I learn about Arlo, I want nothing more than to learn more and more until I’m stuffed full with him.
Wait… No. Not like that. Oh no, what have I done?