34. Blaze
Blaze
Monday morning I wake up to a dusting of snow.
It’s powdery and will be gone by noon as the air warms up, but it’s a stark reminder we’re losing the race against time at the house, especially now that Shawn is off the crew.
Thinking about him makes my chest ache, as if I’ve strained a muscle in the vicinity of my heart.
I deliberately put him from my mind as I go about my morning chores.
The thin layer of white dissolves as predicted, but the wintery chill clings to my breastbone, making me feel old and creaky as I haul a load of wood down to the beach in anticipation of the bonfire.
I’m nailing down a tarp so the wood won’t get wet in the intervening days when I hear a vehicle approach.
I turn and watch a new model Bronco with an immaculate forest green paint job, enormous tires, shiny rims and a guttural engine noise drive onto the narrow road that runs through the retreat.
I rack my brain, not remembering Marika mentioning any new arrivals today, but then the Bronco parks in front of cabin three.
My heart gives a traitorous leap. It’s probably a minion come to collect Shawn’s things, I reason, digging my heels into the soft ground to keep myself from going over to investigate.
I finish my task, head to the boathouse with one eye on cabin three.
Halfway there I freeze—that’s Shawn getting out of the Bronco, big as life.
He swivels his head and sees me, and then he smiles, and I don’t know what to do.
I had convinced myself I was never going to see him again.
And now he’s back, and I don’t know how to feel.
He walks my way, loose-shouldered and with the same plain ball cap on his head. He’s wearing jeans and sneakers and a flannel I’ve never seen on him before. He looks the same, but different. He looks confident, like a man who knows what he wants.
Well, that makes one of us.
I dust my hands on my jeans, then curl them into fists. I want to go to him. I want him to come to me. I want him to leave and make this easier.
“Hey, Blaze.” His voice is irritatingly steady.
Mine comes out sharp. “I thought you were going to San Francisco.”
“I never said I was going to San Francisco,” he says evenly.
“I don’t understand.”
“You want to come in?” He hitches a shoulder toward the cabin. “We should talk.”
“Okay,” I say, because what else am I going to do? “Can you come to the boathouse, though? I need to check on Misty.”
“Sure.” He follows me into my domain. Misty’s chilling by my desk, but she immediately comes up and greets Shawn with full-body wiggles and ecstatic panting noises as if meeting a long-lost friend.
He chuckles and leans over to rub her head. “Hey girl, missed you,” he says, immediately playing dirty by being sweet to my dog. He looks up at me. “Missed you, too.”
“Oh, that’s just mean.”
His smile falls away. “Huh?”
“You left. I’ve been trying to get over you.”
His brow wrinkles. “I left less than four days ago.”
“Well, I’ve been making pretty good progress.”
He straightens, and Misty stays close to his legs, as though she’s worried he’ll go away again if she leaves his side. I empathize.
“I told you I was coming back. You said you would be here.” He sounds slightly accusatory. “You didn’t say you’d already written me off.”
“Yeah, because that’s what you wanted to hear.”
“What I want to hear is the truth, Blaze.”
Fine. “The truth is, in my experience, sometimes people leave suddenly and they never come back.”
He freezes. “Shit. I didn’t even—I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. Your plane landed.”
His face scrunches up as if he’s trying to work something out. “The airport—it’s the same one they…?”
What happened to my parents has nothing to do with what’s happening between me and Shawn. Does it? “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Forget I brought it up.”
“No, this is important.” He takes the cap off his head and runs his fingers through his hair.
It’s gotten longer since I met him, choppy and thick.
“I’m sorry if you were worried. The plane thing didn’t even occur to me.
And I’m sorry I gave you a reason to doubt me.
I wasn’t thinking clearly. My friend needed me.
I thought my team needed me, but I went there and realized I’m not part of that team anymore.
They don’t need me. But I figured out what I need.
And that’s this place. And a different kind of life. And you.”
I shake my head. It’s too much. “You don’t really mean that, not for real.”
He juts out his chin. “Then why am I moving here?”
I can’t have heard right. “What do you mean, moving?”
“Well, call me impulsive, but I want to move here. I am moving here,” he says with conviction. “My old life? I don’t need it or want it anymore.”
I still don’t get it—my thoughts discombobulated, like I’m under the lake and looking up at the distorted surface through inches of agitated water. “You can’t move here.”
“Well, I can’t stay at the retreat forever,” he says, taking my words too literally. “But I can find something else when Marika finally kicks me out.” He sounds hesitant for the first time. “To be honest, I thought maybe you could help me with that.”
“No, you can’t move here because you don’t belong here,” I say, my brain stuck on the story I’ve been telling myself since he left.
“You’re not a local. You’re not a construction worker.
This is just you,” I whirl my hand around in the air, looking for the right word, “playing. Playing at being a guy who wants to live in the woods with a guy who’s never been anywhere or done anything outside of a hundred-mile radius.
This is my home, Shawn, but it’s not yours. ”
His brows knit together, and he puts a hand over his heart, rubbing as if it hurts him. I feel a sting of regret, but I don’t know how to take my words back.
“Remember when we were in my bed early on and I was worried about doing something you didn’t like?
You were supposed to tell me, Blaze, you were supposed to tell me I was hurting you.
” He looks physically pained. “That night, you told me to tell you if you did something I didn’t like, too, remember? ”
I do, but I’m not about to let myself think about that night and the things we shared, the things we did with each other. I seal my lips together before I say something incriminating, like I’m sorry I hurt you. Or, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that you were hurting me. Or, I love you.
“Well, I don’t like this, Blaze. Don’t do this.
” His voice cracks, cracking my heart a little.
“I fucked up before, but I mean it when I say I’m ready to be here, to make this my home.
To be with you.” He takes a labored breath, as if he’s got a stomach cramp from running too hard.
“Maybe I misread this, and if so, I’ll leave you alone. I just thought you felt the same way.”
I thought I did. But I can’t take what he’s offering with open arms. What if he disappears again? It’s too big of a risk.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Okay, well.” He smiles sadly. “Let me know when you come up with something.” And then he leaves. Misty watches the door close then glances at me, her expression saying I’m the biggest fool on the planet.
Obviously.
The second he’s gone, I want to call him back, to tell him it doesn’t matter how afraid I am, that if what he wants is me, then I’m all his. But when I go outside, the Bronco is trundling away.