Chapter 10
I feel like I’ve been robbed. In books, when a character wakes up someplace other than in her own bed, she has a moment of confusion. A brief where am I? slice of time where she’s given a reprieve from the memory of all the events that have landed her in her current pickle.
I get none of that.
I open my eyes and know exactly where I am, exactly what led me to be here, and exactly what is awaiting me once I crawl out of this extremely comfortable bed and gather up enough courage to open the door and face Levi again.
It’s a good thing big-girl panties are metaphorical and therefore always packed because I need to put them on, apologize in person, and get over this inconvenient attraction I’ve found myself a victim of.
Let’s hit snooze on that, shall we? My embarrassment will still be here in ten more minutes.
I roll over and grab my phone that I left charging on the nightstand. The screen awakens with a tap of my finger, and I’m surprised to see that not only is there reception on Levi’s mountain, but I have a number of texts waiting for me.
Mom was a little worried when I’d talked to her on the phone yesterday, but after I assured her I had my medication with me and that I hadn’t been hurt in the rockslide, she’d calmed down.
She also double-checked Levi’s claim that the Forest Service road was impassable.
Their website said it was closed for maintenance and that the weather had delayed their progress.
Dad had hollered from the background that he could borrow the sheriff’s four-wheeler and bring along his chainsaw, then dared the rangers to stop him from saving his little girl.
As sweet as the offer was, I nipped that idea in the bud.
The roads will eventually reopen. I’ll be fine until then.
Pulling the phone farther away from my face, I open the messaging app and tap on the group chat full of unread messages.
Evangeline:
Just checking to make sure you haven’t been murdered.
Evangeline:
Ok, that was originally a joke, but you’re not responding, so now I’m kind of getting worried.
Evangeline:
If you’ve been the victim of a vicious crime and I have to look at your homicide in miniature form in my grandfather’s basement every time I visit him, then . . .
Evangeline:
I should have had a good threat ready before I hit send.
Evangeline:
I don’t even think therapy would help if I had to deal with that.
I stifle a laugh. I don’t know if Levi is awake, asleep, here, or at work, and even though I’m technically avoiding him (momentarily!), I don’t want him to know I’m avoiding him, so I’d prefer if he thought I was still asleep.
I hold my phone a little tighter, oh so grateful for the ridiculousness that is my friend.
Only Evangeline would jump to murderous conclusions and then worry I’d be immortalized in her grandfather’s basement.
Although, in her defense, her grandfather and sister’s hobby of recreating crime scenes in miniature form like little macabre dollhouses is a bit unsettling.
So maybe it isn’t a stretch that her mind went there, especially if she’s been home to visit recently.
Evangeline:
Martha, you’re the one who talked to Hayley when she called the library.
What specifically did she say? What was her tone?
Do you think she was in trouble? I mean, more trouble than being stranded.
More like, did she hide any type of secret message in what she was saying that would require a very specific set of skills à la Liam Neeson?
Martha:
You’re crazy, you know that?
Evangeline:
Yes, but you didn’t answer the question.
Martha:
She sounded stressed but fine.
Evangeline:
Then why isn’t she answering these texts?
Martha:
It’s unlikely she has cell reception.
Evangeline:
Oh. That makes sense. Well, did she say where she was staying or who she was staying with?
Martha:
Umm . . . with the tow truck guy, I think?
Evangeline:
You think?!? Hold on.
Martha:
Do I have a choice?
Evangeline:
You do not.
It’s getting harder and harder not to laugh out loud. Oh, my goodness, I needed this.
Evangeline:
There’s only one towing service she could have used. Levi’s Service Center in Turkey Grove. The place doesn’t even have a website. No website and no staff photo. Is this Levi guy married? Is she staying with a nice little family in a nice little cabin?
Evangeline:
OR IS HE SINGLE? Oh my word! Is this her meet-cute?
Martha:
I thought you promised everyone that you’d taken down your matchmaking shingle for good.
Evangeline:
I didn’t matchmake this. Destiny did.
That’s where the text thread ends. I should probably let them both know that I’m alive and well and still very much single. I set my thumbs to work.
Hayley:
Sorry for the late reply! Cell reception is spotty out here. I didn’t even know I had any until a minute ago. I’m fine and not in danger of being murdered, Evangeline.
I wasn’t expecting anyone to answer right away but three dots immediately appear as Evangeline types out a response.
Evangeline:
You’re alive! I’ve been so worried!
Hayley:
I’m fine. No need to worry.
Martha:
Any word on what made the bookmobile break down?
Hayley:
No update on Cletus yet. Levi didn’t get a chance to look him over yesterday, but I think he plans to today.
Martha:
Keep us posted.
Evangeline:
Speaking of Levi . . .
I have honestly never met another person so in love with love than Evangeline Kelly.
Even when the woman thought no one would ever look at her with hearts in their eyes the way my cousin does, she still wouldn’t give up on romance, determined instead to try her hand at matchmaking the library’s patrons, unbeknownst to them.
She’s being about as subtle as mud right now with her leading inquiry.
Hayley:
What about him?
I smirk down at my phone. My evasiveness will really dill her pickle.
Evangeline:
Don’t be obtuse.
Martha:
While this is all highly entertaining, some of us have work to do. Pete the Cat and his groovy buttons are going to help me teach number concept to the littlest patrons today. TTYL
Thank you, Martha, for that perfect excuse not to answer. Also, I didn’t realize how late it is if it’s already story time at the library. My little snooze from what I need to do is now over.
Hayley:
I need to go too. I’ll check in whenever I have service so you’re not haunted by the possibility of me being your grandfather’s next basement showcase.
Evangeline:
I appreciate that.
I set my phone back down and push off the covers.
Oh! Maybe I did have a moment of character amnesia after all because I’d forgotten about not changing out of Levi’s shirt before I went to bed.
In my defense, the flannel is very comfortable, like it’s been washed at least a hundred times with the world’s best fabric softener.
There’s no way I’m going to step foot outside of this room in only his shirt, though.
It’s hard defining boundaries when you have no choice but to cross all the normal ones.
I’m sleeping in the room next to him. Eating his food.
Using his soap, shampoo, and deodorant. The least I can do is not crawl into his clothes as well.
For both our sakes.
I find an actual dress in the bottom of the laundry basket.
This time the piece of clothing has a floral print with little pearl buttons marching in a straight line down the front.
The statistical probability that this dress is another of Levi’s shirts is exactly zero.
I did not do the math, nor do I need to as the dress gathers under my breasts in a ruched empire waist before falling around the rest of my body in a swish of fabric.
I finger-comb my hair, wincing when my index finger snags on a particularly tangled knot.
My hair is fine, which means it’s soft and silky to the touch, but also means that it gets tangled really easily.
If I don’t get my hands on a real brush, I’m going to be well on my way to sporting dreadlocks by the time the rockslide gets cleared.
I throw on my only pair of shoes, then crack open the door, pausing. I don’t hear anything coming from any other part of the house. I pad across the hall to the bathroom and quickly brush my teeth. My steps are slow but sure as I walk into the living room and then the kitchen.
No Levi. He must have gone down to his shop to start work for the day.
A sliver of disappointment wedges under my skin like a splinter.
I shake my head as if the physical movement will shake off the feeling as well.
No part of me should have even entertained the thought that he’d do anything other than go about his business as usual.
Hadn’t he made himself abundantly clear the day before?
I lift my gaze and visually trip over an envelope with my name written in sloppy, slanted letters on the kitchen counter. Trepidation skitters across my shoulders as I pick up the envelope and pluck out the college-ruled notebook paper trifolded within.
Levi wrote me a letter? I should worry that it’s an eviction notice, but even though I just met the man the day before, I already know he isn’t someone who would leave another person stranded, no matter how much of a burden or how much that other person gets on his nerves.
I unfold the letter and begin to read. Or try to. His handwriting is really atrocious.
Hayley,
There is no excuse for the way I spoke to you. It wasn’t right. No one should be treated with disrespect like that, and I hope that you accept my sincerest apologies.
Okay, wow. Can’t say I was expecting this at all.
First off, written Levi and spoken Levi are two different Levis.
I can hardly believe the same man who barely spoke more than monosyllable replies the day before is the same man who’s penned this letter.
Also, disrespect? He’s being way too hard on himself.
I never felt disrespected. He was just vocalizing his boundaries, albeit a bit explosively.
I wish I could promise that I won’t ever lose control of my temper like that again while you are a guest in my house, but I won’t lie to you.
Chances are, my grip on my emotions will likely slip again.
What I can promise you, though, is that I am trying.
And whenever I fail, I will be quick to apologize. For whatever that is worth.
Uh, I’d say that’s worth a whole heap of an awful lot. Who of us isn’t failing at something even after giving it our best shot? It’s the mark of a person’s true character, however, when they can admit when they’re wrong and then try to make it right.
Maybe I should have warned you about my lack of people skills before you took up temporary residence across the hall, but I really couldn’t think of any other options of places you could stay.
The thing is, unfortunately, I’m not very tolerant tolerable No, I guess both those words are right.
It’s hard for me to be around other people, and, consequently, other people find it hard to be around me.
So, if at any point yesterday you thought to yourself that I’m a curmudgeon hermit, then you were correct.
I snort a laugh because those exact words had crossed my mind. Also, who would have thought Levi Redding would have such a self-deprecating sense of humor?
This is going to sound cliché, and I can’t even believe I’m about to write it because it’s something someone says during a bad break-up, so obviously they aren’t words that belong between us, and yet they are the absolute truth.
It’s not you, Hayley. It’s me.
I can’t stress that enough. You did absolutely nothing wrong and, again, didn’t deserve how I treated you. I wish I could be someone other than who I am. Someone who enjoys people instead of getting agitated simply by being around them.
My chest constricts. It’s a good thing for him that he’s not here right now or I’d be trying to give him a hug that he probably wouldn’t want. No one should wish to be someone besides the person they are.
What is it about people specifically that sets him on edge?
Like it’s my favorite rerun, I play again the mental reel of the previous day.
Him turning off the radio every time I asked a question instead of letting it play in the background.
His aversion to touch. His insistence on me using his hygiene products instead of stopping by the store so I could pick up some of my own.
Sound. Touch. Smell.
I close my eyes and groan. I’m so stupid. No wonder he flipped his lid as I prattled on about inane Taco Bell facts. I wish I’d been able to see what was right in front of my face. I wasn’t putting Levi at ease at all. I was pushing him into sensory overload, the poor guy.
I look down at the letter in my hand and realize with a jolt that I haven’t finished reading the whole thing yet.
If it makes you feel any better at all, know that, out of everyone I’ve ever interacted with, you are the most bearable. I really wish I’d written this in pencil instead of pen so I could erase that properly.
I laugh out loud at that. Has to be the worst compliment I’ve ever received at face value. Who wants to be simply bearable when words like enchanting and beguiling and irresistible are right there, ready to be used? But I’m coming to suspect that bearable to Levi is high praise indeed.
What I mean is, instead of making me cringe, I like the lilt and cadence of your voice. Your laugh invites me to laugh too, instead of creating the urge to plug my ears. Hayley, you don’t give me a headache.
Again, with the flattering compliments.
My grin widens.
My actions are probably making you doubt my sincerity, but I honestly can only stand to be around most people for an hour or so and I lasted the majority of the day with you before I snapped.
When I wouldn’t shut up. His pleas for me to just stop are making more and more sense.
If it would make you more comfortable, I’ll ask around and see if anyone nearby has a spare room or other ideas on a place where you can stay until one of the roads are opened again. Just let me know.
Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit. I’d figured I’d finished all my processing last night, but this letter is giving me even more to unpack.
An unbidden thought shoots to the front of the queue, and I’m grateful Evangeline isn’t here because she’d probably vocalize the blasted thing with a gleeful grin on her face, but . . .
Did Levi just I-hate-everyone-in-the-world-but-you trope me?