CHAPTER SIX #2
He shakes his head, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “No.” Then he sighs and starts to turn toward me, a tender curve on his mouth. “But I think that’s a good thing. What we had was amazing, but it didn’t last.”
I’m not so sure it ended either. “So, this thing with Kenley, it’s different?” I hate that the words came out of my mouth almost as much as I hate how much I want to hear his answer. Even if it has the potential to crush me.
“Actually,” he says, chuckling softly – already my heart pounds a little harder, “I think this thing with Kenley is probably a lot like what we had. As close to perfect as one could hope to find.” He turns toward me, smiling.
It’s all I can do to hold onto the board I’m perched on and not fall into the ground, hoping it swallows me whole. “For Knox.”
I’ve missed a step. “What now?”
He laughs, harder this time. “Kenley is with Knox. What, you thought I brought a date on this trip too?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t think it was married-to-music-man Knox!” I laugh as well, but I think for me it’s more relief than amusement. “I can’t believe he’s so serious about someone.” I shake my head, still not quite convinced it’s true. “Craziness.”
“That it is for sure. Wait until you hear how they met.”
I adjust my weight on the board to turn sideways a bit. “You gonna tell me?”
“Nah, I’ll let them do that.” He grins. The stars dance in his eyes, reminding me of the impish boy he once was. “Be more entertaining that way.”
I smile, taking in the sight of him, reveling in the feeling of talking and laughing and just being.
Once upon a time, life was always like this.
Always the two of us taking in the world together.
Observing it. Contemplating it. Entertained by it.
Sometimes at war with it. But always, always it was the two of us in it together
“So, you’re really not with anyone?” I ask, suddenly finding I need to hear the words.
He shakes his head. “I’m not with anyone.”
I sigh. In the last few hours, I’ve gone from thinking I was in a good place, at peace with how things ended, to being in a place of panic when that ending suddenly felt more final than I was prepared for.
And then to some twisted newfound trajectory of lies and fake relationships, only to come around to relief in realizing the end hasn’t come to pass yet after all.
Maybe it’s time we finally find out if it ever will.
I jump down from the fence abruptly, spinning around to face him as soon as my feet hit the grass. “I want to try something. You up for it?”
He doesn’t even think about it. “Yes.”
“Come on then,” I nod for him to climb the fence and join me on my side.
“You want me to come in there?” He peers past me, seeking out the pasture’s inhabitants.
“Would you relax?” I laugh at him. “The nearest horse is halfway across the field. If they were going to bother with us, they’d have wandered over this way ages ago.”
“Fine.” He puts a foot on the first board and pushes up. “But if anyone changes their mind and decides to come at us, you better protect me.” He swings his other leg over, joining me inside the pasture a second later.
“I will guard you with my life,” I promise.
“Just from horses,” he clarifies. “I reserve the right to be the hero should any other threats arise on this outing.”
“I’m good with that.”
We both nod as if sealing the pact.
“Where are we going?” he whispers, apparently still afraid he’ll draw attention from the horses if he makes too much noise. Rest assured, they’re well aware of our presence already.
“You’ll see.” Provided I can find it again in the dark.
We walk side by side, cutting straight through the big field.
I must catch myself reaching for his hand about a hundred times, always stopping myself before my fingers can stretch far enough to find his.
Two years it’s been since I’ve held this man’s hand, and still, it feels more unnatural to be walking without the weight of his palm against mine than it would to entwine my fingers with his.
When we reach the opposing fence line, we climb over it same as the last, bringing us to a dirt path separating the pasture we just crossed from another.
I pause for a moment to get oriented, turning left and then right, trying to make out what lies ahead in either direction.
It takes a decent stare before the shape reveals itself in the shadows cast by the nearing tree line, but there’s an undeniable structure to the left.
“Right, it is,” I mumble, starting to move again.
“You don’t actually know where you’re taking me, do you,” Matti remarks, walking so close behind me, I can feel the air move with the sway of his arms.
“I have a basic idea.” It’s the closest he’s getting to an admission. Though, to be honest, it’s very possible I’m leading us in circles in the dark.
A few steps more and the stone walkway leading into the surrounding woods I was hoping to find at the end of this dirt path comes into view. “Ha! I knew I wasn’t getting us lost.”
“And yet, the way you said that makes me think you didn’t really know that at all.” He moves to my side; I’m guessing to get a better look at what’s ahead. “How deep into this forest are we going? Because I’m in flip-flops.”
I shrug. “That didn’t seem to cause you much concern while you were traipsing through manure a minute ago.”
“There wasn’t any –” He stops short of finishing his sentence, understanding dawning on him. “Fuck.” He scowls, twitching his nose as he casts a bitter glare down to his feet and what may or may not be caked on them right now.
“You thought it was just dirt.” It’s hard not to laugh, but I hold it in. Mostly.
“That is what I usually wind up with on my feet when I walk in flip-flops through a large, grassy area.”
“Usually there aren’t horses eating and shitting in that same space.”
“You’re a real brat, you know that?”
I smirk. “You just don’t like it when I point out the obvious that wasn’t so obvious to you after it’s finally obvious to you.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s universally unappreciated.” He chuckles. “I’ve always wondered, do you talk like this to other people?”
“I do,” I admit. “But you’re the only one who ever understands my wonky, repetitive but totally not, statements.”
In all the bantering back and forth, I never got around to answering his actual question. And now, “We’re here.”
We both slow to a stop.
“What am I looking at?” Matti squints trying to see better in the dark.
The lighting has changed again since stepping into the trees.
Even though the moon overhead is bright enough to see everything under the sky out in the open, the tree limbs cast too much shadow to see more than a few feet ahead.
“Fire pits.” I move for the one closest to us.
Squatting down, I start to fumble at the bricks, trying to remember where the matches are kept.
“We opted to have a tour of the entire property when we first arrived. With Anna’s anxiety, she likes to know where everything is, how everything works.
Plus, it’s just nice to see all the activities available to us in person,” I ramble on, still feeling around for the little space between the bricks just big enough to hold a matchbook and a few sheets of kindling paper.
“The website was super informative, but some things just aren’t translated as well in pictures. ”
Automatically, his eyes seek out the moon. I think Matti’s been trying to capture a picture worthy of its splendor all of his life. “I get that,” he mumbles.
“A-ha!” My arm juts upward, triumphantly waving around my findings. “Fire time.”
“You really want to build a fire right now? In the middle of the night.” He looks around, as if worried we’ll get caught. Like we’re teenagers or something. “You don’t think we’ll get in trouble?”
“You mean like we did when we were fourteen?”
His eyes catch mine and his entire expression changes. He just got it.
“Our first date.”
“You and me, a bonfire –”
“And Mr. Jenkins spraying us with a hose thinking we were a wildfire,” he finishes for me.
“Admittedly, not how I expected that night to end,” I say laughing. “But we had some pretty pleasant moments leading up to the shower.”
He steps in closer, peering down at me with those soulful eyes of his. “That we did,” he rumbles softly.
“Let’s have them again,” I whisper.
“Why?” It’s a fair question. Even if I wish he hadn’t asked it.
“I told you.” I inch my way even closer to him.
“I want to try something.” I swallow down the desire to just allow every thought and feeling to spill out.
The intense urge to let him know how much I still think about him.
About us. About how my mind lives at war with my heart trying to make sense of the feelings we still carry between us.
How I wonder whether they simply exist built on time and comfort, or if they are burning away like resting embers just waiting for new breath to reignite them.
But I don’t say any of those things, don’t voice any of my questions. Instead, I simply remind him of the only thing that matters in this moment, “And you already said yes.”
His eyes anchor into mine so deeply, for a second I think he already knows the things I’m trying to hide.
Only when my throat is vibrating from the pounding of my heart, does he ease his stare and softly smile.
“You’re right. I did.” His fingers move for my hand, taking the matches from my palm.
“I do believe I’m the one who started the fire that night.
” The words might be in reference to a literal fire, but his voice is loaded with implications.
“Funny.” I let my fingertips trail along his thumb, up his wrist, and along his arm. “That’s not quite how I remember it.”
He smirks, a sexy curve on his mouth promising every bit of the mischief we created over twenty years ago. “I guess there’s only one way to trigger our memories and find out.”
We both stay planted in place, a heat already building between us without even a match being lit.
Before I push up on my toes and recklessly press my lips to his, I step aside. “By all means. Do your thing.”
I move back a few feet more to give him space to work.
Not that it takes much for Matti to get the fire going.
He wasn’t ever the boy scout sort, but his mama is a hippie through and through and that woman had a fire going every time the moon changed shape.
Doesn’t matter what the weather is or how unfavorable the wood’s condition is, Matti has known how to give life to fire since he was old enough to light a match and know better not to let the flame touch skin.
“That ought to do it,” he mumbles, the sound of fire embracing kindling crackling away. Nearly all of my life, that sound has comforted me because it makes me think of him, makes me feel like he’s with me in some way.
“It’s a wonder you never developed some sort of pyromania,” I tease him, moving in at his side again. Same as I did that night on our first fire.
“I believe the line you meant to use was, ‘are you sure you’re not some sort of pyromaniac,” he teases right back.
“Then I believe you meant to say...”
He turns toward me, hands finding my hips, moving us closer until we touch. “I wasn’t before.” He dips his head down until his forehead touches mine. “But standing here with you...I might become one.”
A smile tugs at my mouth, and I’m unable to restrain it. “God, that was so cheesy.”
He grins. “You liked it.”
“I liked you.” And I liked the way he made me feel. Like I was an impulse he’d never be able to resist.