12. Dustin
Chapter 12
Dustin
“Woah, did you need to bring that many puzzles?”
“Shut up and help me!” Violet's muffled shout is blocked by the leaning tower of puzzles in her arms. There are at least eight of them stacked on top of each other. I swear she’s always carrying stacks of things that are way too hard for one person to balance. At least this time I’m here to help, because we don’t need another incident to happen.
“Sheesh you’re the grouchy one today.” I grab four puzzles off the mountain, and I finally see her face. Violet’s hair flows across her eyes, pieces of hair that came loose from the messy bun all contained in a large clip on the back of her head. I reach out and swipe a strand, tucking it behind her ear so she can see.
And that’s the only reason I’m finding an excuse to touch her.
I set the stack I grabbed on the kitchen table. Then I grab the remaining ones from her and set them on top. She stands there still, mouth agape. Her hazel eyes glisten with curiosity while she surveys the interior of my A-frame house.
“This place is—breathtaking.”
She spins around, taking in the open concept. Hardwood floors and wood beaded ceilings. A dark butcher block counter adorns the wall with a fridge and stove. Stairs lead to the open loft with a queen bed. Everything is in neutral shades. I knew she would love this place. After seeing the inside of the flower shop, I can tell she appreciates woodwork.
“My grandfather and I built this place together during a few summers when I stayed. This was always my favorite place to escape everything when I was young.”
“I can see why; it’s quaint and cozy.” She does another spin, taking in everything. “And warm and inviting.”
“So, did you buy every puzzle?”
“I had a feeling they would get the puzzle from Cat’s we will beat her in this competition. That's a promise.”
“Thank you—Jackson also works at the post office now, so that’s why I have a hard time mailing anything,” she confesses, looking down at the puzzle again.
“If you ever need me to mail something for you, I’m your guy.” And I mean it. I can’t imagine having to face your ex in such a small town with only one option for miles.
“That means a lot.” She fiddles with the pieces looking teary eyed. A few minutes pass while we concentrate on finding pieces and group them together.
“Tell me about your life in New York. Was it everything people say it is and more?” she asks while digging a fork into a half-eaten slice of pie.
“To be honest it had its moments. I really did enjoy living there. The buzz of the city. People everywhere. You could blend into a crowd of thousands of people. The thing is, I never felt more…alone.” Shit, did I confess that? I’ve never told anyone that before. I think this puzzle is wreaking havoc with my sanity.
I’ve been thinking about things this past week. I still don’t know whether I should stay here or move back to the city. I’m at a crossroads. Both decisions have drawbacks and advantages. It’s nice to be surrounded by my family here. Work on the farm has been a refreshing change in pace. I don’t miss sitting at a desk all day. But I worked so hard to build my career. I think a few more weeks will help me weigh on the decision. Will I get sick of the farming life? Is it all too fresh now?
I’m not sure.
“Living in a small town my whole life, it’s felt like I could never blend in. Everyone knows everyone. So here and there I crave blending in and hiding in a crowd.” She twirls her empty fork between her fingers. “Feeling alone, that’s something I’ve spent far too long living.”
I wonder what she means by that. This conversation is getting heavy. I don’t think I’m ready to dive deeper. It doesn’t seem like she is ready either. Though I can’t help but feel a connection to her.
We’re two people who’ve always felt lonely. Alone in a world full of people.