Chapter 16
Nate
Iturn the key in the front door, ready to lay it all out there. I’m all in with Rory, and I need her to know it. We’re done dancing around things and giving mixed signals like we’re a couple of high school kids. It’s time to have a real conversation.
I set my jaw as I step through the door.
And then I freeze in horror.
“What. The fuck. Is that?” I stare at a puddle in the center of my hardwood floor.
And it’s not just water.
I’m going to kill that dog.
Ollie cocks his head, as if to tell me it wasn’t him.
“I know it wasn’t you, Oll,” I say, scratching his head. “You were with me. Someone wasn’t in their crate.”
As if he knows I’m talking about him, Spam comes careening around the corner from the kitchen and jumps on me, his tiny front legs barely reaching my knee.
“Down.” I take his feet and plant them firmly on the floor. “We’re going to work on peeing outside, aren’t we?”
I clip a leash to the shrimp and take him outside to see if there’s more where that came from.
There is, and he decorates every tree between my yard and two houses down before it seems like he runs out of urine, lifting his little legs as far as he can with each time he marks his territory, like he’s somehow going to trick the neighborhood dogs into thinking there’s a new big canine in town.
I tuck him into the crate when we get back while I clean the pee off the floor, grateful it wasn’t the carpet. Not that these carpets don’t need replacing—the one in the living room has been here since I was in fourth grade—but it’s the principle.
Just as I’m tossing the paper towels in the trash can, the door opens, and Spam starts to yip.
“I’m coming, Spam,” Rory says affectionately, opening the crate and letting him out. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I stand between the kitchen and the living room, arms crossed over my chest.
“Oh, Ollie’s here. So Nate—” She breaks off as she finally turns and looks at me, a smile brightening her face. “Hi!”
“Hi. Have a good day?” I ask.
“I did. You?”
“I did, thanks. But…” How can I say this without coming across as an asshole?
Actually, I think asshole may be warranted here. The little turkey peed on my floor.
“Didn’t we talk about putting Spam in the crate if you had to leave?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in the expression that usually has teenage boys almost wetting their pants as they confess to being the ones who brought the keg into the woods.
Her eyes widen. “He was in the crate. I swear.”
Both of us turn in unison to look at Spam, just in time to see the little weasel hit the latch just right and release himself from the crate.
“Well, shit,” I say. “He’s an escape artist.”
Rory snorts with laughter. “I didn’t even think that was possible. Maybe he’s smarter than he lets on.”
I can’t keep a chuckle from rumbling through my chest, either. “Well, I guess we’ll need a better crate. He managed to pee on the floor.”
“Spam!” Rory shakes a finger at him.
Spam doesn’t look the least bit sorry, or even aware that we’re talking about him.
“It’s cleaned. Not a big deal. But I think both the dogs could use a little time to get some energy out.
” And I need some time to talk to Rory somewhere public.
Somewhere I won’t try to kiss her because I want her to know that the feelings that are blooming again aren’t about her body.
I want her, but it’s about all of her. I want to know what she’s been up to, what she’s been doing over the years that have made her who she is now.
“Want to go over to the high school and let them run a little? We can even bring some treats and maybe work on some training for Spam.”
Spam and Ollie’s ears both perk up. Ollie loves training. I’m pretty sure Spam is just excited about the possibility of treats.
Rory appears to be considering, tilting her head thoughtfully until Spam lets out a yip.
She smiles, tucking the pink strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay. Let’s go.”
—
Spam tugs on the leash the entire walk to the high school while Rory tells me about her day.
“So you and Stacey are getting to be friends again, huh?” I ask, looking for a safe topic.
Her cheeks flush pink with excitement. I wonder if that’s what they look like while she’s in the throes of a climax, while she’s screaming a man’s name.
What she’d look like screaming my name.
So much for a safe topic to keep my mind off her body.
“She’s so much fun. She really was one of the good ones in high school. I wish I’d kept in touch with her over the years, but I’m glad we’re reconnecting. And I can’t wait to go see the horses at the barn tomorrow.”
She’s told me she’s headed to Lonesome Acres tomorrow, which reminds me of something.
“Do you have clothes you need for that? Or boots?”
Rory taps a finger against her lips. “Not really. I mean, I can work in my jeans, and I have a pair of boots in my truck that will work fine as muck boots. I wear them for work.” A frown crosses her face.
“Or at least, I used to wear them for work. But I don’t have any riding boots.
Think I could order some for overnight delivery? ”
At my loud laugh, her eyes widen, startled.
“You’ve been a city girl too long, Ror. If you order something today, it’ll be at least a few days before it gets here. Maybe a week. Why don’t you see if Mandy has anything extra?”
“Oh!” Her eyes brighten with realization. “I have an old pair at my parents’ house. They have a bunch of my old crap that they keep wanting me to take out of their house. I can go grab those once they get back into town.”
“And then you can catch up with them when you go to get the boots.”
“Exactly. And I guess I feel a little better about letting them know everything that’s happened now that I have something to do, at least for a couple weeks. Mandy said she can use my help as long as I’m in town.”
I hope that with a job secured, at least for the short term, she’ll be staying for longer than a couple of weeks.
We turn the corner, and the football field comes into view, the last few kids walking off the perfectly trimmed grass field after their practice.
“That’s awesome, Rory. I’m proud of you. That seems like the perfect job for you.”
I’d always thought that was what she’d end up doing, honestly. When she stayed in Denver instead of returning to HiLo after high school, plenty of folks were surprised.
Maybe me more than anyone.
We unclip the dogs from their leashes and let them run.
“It is. It really is,” she says, her hand above her eyes to shade her vision from the sun.
“Working with horses like that is actually what I pictured doing when I got my degree in animal studies. I even got a minor in business so I could help run a barn or something like that. But it’s been tough to find that kind of a job in Denver, even on the outskirts.
There are some ranches out there. Not big ones like up here, but they exist. Those types of jobs don’t open up too often, though. ”
How does she not see it? We could have the perfect thing going here. Rory and I, together. Her working at the barn, both of us coming home to sit by the fire with our well-behaved dogs.
Yes, in my fantasy, Spam is well behaved. He could be, with a little training. I think he has potential.
Nothing is perfect, and I get that. But having Rory in my life may be as close to perfect as one can get.
“Want to sit while they run?” I motion to the bleachers.
We sit on the metal seats, still warm from the sun, and watch the dogs tearing across the field.
When Spam drops a present on the fifty-yard line, I stand up, a baggie in hand, but Rory takes it from me.
She picks up after Spam and drops the bag in a trash can before climbing back up to where I’m sitting, performing the cleanup duties without any fanfare.
I didn’t realize until now how rare someone as low maintenance as Rory is. And I certainly didn’t understand how much impact it can have on a relationship.
Maybe it’s a small thing, picking up after your own dog. But it’s a huge thing to be with someone who can truly be a partner in your relationship. Someone who isn’t depending on you for every little thing.
Relationships should be give and take, both parties supporting one another and bringing out the best in each other, or at least that’s what my dad told me. Until just now, I hadn’t realized that relationships like that really existed.
“This is nice, Nate,” she says, as she settles in next to me.
“It is,” I agree, even if nice isn’t the word I would have chosen. I can think of some better ones.
Amazing.
Beautiful.
Magical.
I lift my arm and drape it over her shoulder, waiting on pins and needles to see how she responds.
But she doesn’t push my hand away or even stiffen. Instead, she leans into me, just enough that I know this move was okay.
And suddenly, everything is even nicer, if you want to call it that.
“So tell me more. What’s been going on in your life the last ten years? You must have some good stories.” I rub my thumb along her shoulder.
I’ve tried to keep up through updates from her folks and what I could glean from social media, but that’s never the whole story.
Rory shrugs, pushing her shoulder into my hand. I’ve learned this is her move, not when she doesn’t know what to say, but when she’s contemplating whether she should say something. I’m not even sure she’s aware she does it, but the contact makes my entire body hum with need.
“Well, I moved to Denver after college. I’m still best friends with Allie, if you didn’t know that part.”
“Anything special in your life in all those years? Or anyone?” I think I know the answer to this one, at least the second part, but I want to hear her take.
This time, she does stiffen. “No.”
“Oh?” I try not to let my joy show.
It’s not that I don’t want her to be happy, obviously. It’s that I’m glad she didn’t find someone to fall in love with, marry, and shoot any chance I had with her to hell.
Rory stands, letting my hand fall behind her, and her tone lets me know the topic is closed. “There hasn’t been anyone special in a long time, Nate. I’m sure it’s my fault, but I don’t really want to talk about it here. Want to see if those treats you brought can be put to good use?”
Wait. She thinks it’s her fault she’s single?
If any of the men she’s dated couldn’t see what they had, that’s on them. Rory is one in a million.
But before I can tell her that, she’s already halfway down the bleachers, heading toward the fifty-yard line.
I stand from my seat to follow her, thinking of the last time she and I sat here together for a football game. How is it that I’m as obsessed with her now as I was back then? More, maybe. All the ways she’s changed have just made us more compatible.
She stands in the center of the football field, holding out a treat and calling Spam, and she stomps her foot when he doesn’t come right away.
After a few calls, he comes. He’s nothing if not food motivated. Asking him to stay, however, proves to be more of a challenge. He just keeps following the treats.
Ollie, for his part, looks borderline exhausted, or maybe he’s just bored. He went through some intense training to become a police dog, so learning to sit and stay is elementary to him.
After twenty minutes, we finally get Spam to sit on command. Rory jumps up and down, clapping her hands in celebration.
Spam takes this to mean she wants him to jump, too.
I sneak him a treat anyway. It’s a start.
“Let’s head back. You hungry, Rory?”
She clips Spam’s leash into place. “Yeah. What do you want to do for dinner? I can make something again if you want.”
The memory of her Alfredo sauce makes my mouth water, but I don’t want her to think she has to do all the cooking or earn her keep somehow.
I mean, if she wants to cook more food like that, sign me up. I haven’t eaten that well in years. But really, I just want to spend time with her.
“Why don’t we grab a pizza? Mountain High Pizza is on the way home. We can get takeout and bring it home.”
Her eyes light up at the mention of the best—and only—pizza place in town. “That sounds amazing.”
It smells amazing, too, as soon as we step into the small pizza shop on the corner, scents of cheese and tomato and oregano mixing together.
Spam sits on command while we order a cheese pizza, but once he realizes the treat isn’t coming, he stands and pulls at the leash again. It’s…slight progress, I guess.
I’m starving by the time we push open the front door with the pizza box in hand. Ollie settles on his bed, while Spam dances around the kitchen, hoping for scraps when Rory and I sit at the table and open the box.
“This is amazing,” Rory says after her first bite, her mouth full of melted cheese. “I forgot how good their pizzas are. There’s nothing in Denver that compares.”
I nod as I swallow. “I’m not sure there’s anything that compares in any city. I don’t know what they put in their sauce, but it’s a whole other level.”
We’re both silent while we chew, and once I swallow the last bite of my slice, I lean back in my chair, my hands behind my head.
“I know we talked a little about what you’ve been up to the last ten years, Rory. I can’t wait to hear more. But…”
Her eyebrow arches as I take a breath, but she waits for me to finish. I’m grateful because I need to get this out.
“I want to talk about back then. What happened between us, why you wanted to break up. I’ve been trying to understand it for the last ten years, and it still doesn’t make sense in my mind.”
She chews on her lip as I talk. I want to pull the lip out from between her teeth, keep her safe even from herself, but I need her to feel safe to tell me the truth. I don’t want to crowd her.
I take another breath and force my tone to be casual, even though everything hangs on the answer to this question. This could change everything. And I’m ready to hear her side of things.
“So what was it, Rory? Tell me the truth. All of it.”