35. Shawn
Shawn
Of all the ways I’d imagined it going when I got up here and saw Blaze again, him shutting me down wasn’t in the top ten. Call me naive, but I’d sort of thought he’d at least be glad to see me.
Instead, I’m left scrambling to pivot after my big plans were cut off at the knees. Again.
Does it hurt to drive away from Blaze when all I want is to hold him close, to walk hand in hand as we build up our lives together?
It hurts like hell. Worse than recovering from surgery.
Worse than my dad not talking to me for months.
I get that I messed up by taking off, oblivious to how it would feel to him when I literally flew away at a moment’s notice, but I thought we were on the same page about everything else.
I thought I wasn’t alone in my feelings. Now I don’t know what to think.
I drive past his and Brooke’s house without stopping, keeping on until I reach the construction site.
I already told Luis I wouldn’t be there today, but maybe I can catch him, make sure he really wants me on the crew.
Make sure that what Blaze said was just coming from a place of pain and not reality.
But when I get there, the site is empty.
I check the clock on my dash—it’s already late afternoon and getting dark.
I can see the progress they’ve made since I left on Friday, and I’m proud of them.
Over the past couple of weeks, the house has begun to take shape, no longer a collection of empty spaces strung together by boards and nails, but something solid.
The windows are partially installed—I can see the rest lined up under covers, ready to go in. The roof is still open to the heavens.
I tilt my head back and look up at the slate gray sky, getting darker by the second.
I clearly didn’t play it right with Blaze, but I’m not giving up.
This is what I want—clean air in my lungs, hard physical work as long as my body can take it.
I don’t even mind the cold that much anymore, now that I have proper gear.
I want to spend my days building something I can touch at the end of them.
Maybe I’m selfish, but I want all that and the man I’m in love with, too.
None of us gets what we want all the time, do we?
The sound of tires on the driveway makes me turn around.
I’m expecting to see Luis, or maybe Leo coming back for a forgotten thermos, but it’s Blaze’s truck that pulls to a stop next to my humiliatingly clean vehicle.
To be very honest, I didn’t buy the Bronco for practicality, but for the image it projects.
I look forward to it getting a few scratches and dings the more I actually use it.
He gets out of his truck, leaving Misty in the cab to make nose prints on the driver’s side window. It’s been all of fifteen minutes since we parted in the boathouse, but I’m as glad to see him as if it had been fifteen years.
“They’re done for the day,” he says, stating the obvious.
“Yeah. I’ll catch them tomorrow.”
He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. “You’re really serious about this?”
I know “this” encompasses more than just the construction job.
“As serious as a two-out walk-off homer.”
He doesn’t smile.
“Look, check the back of my Bronco.”
He stares at me like I’ve lost it.
“Just take a look,” I urge. “It’s open.”
He cups his hand around his eyes so he can peer through the tinted back window.
I know what he’ll see. A few cardboard moving boxes, every suitcase I own, some athletic equipment.
Clothes and some mementos. Things I’d like to have to get me through a Maine winter.
Plus the outerwear I stocked up on before driving up.
It was shocking how little I felt like bringing with me from my apartment.
It’s only now that I see how empty my life was since leaving the Laurels—maybe even before I left.
I substituted the team for a life, and filling in those blank spaces is long overdue.
Blaze looks from the window back to me, his face slack with shock. “You’re really serious about this,” he says again, but this time it’s a statement, not a question.
“Yeah,” I say, willing him to believe me, willing him to give me—to give us—a chance.
A dot of white lands on Blaze’s beard, another on his jacket. I look up to find snowflakes falling from the sky like lazy confetti.
“It’s snowing,” I say with a grin. “It’s snowing!”
“You better get used to it,” he says sternly, “if you’re going to be a Mainer now.”
“Can’t I get excited about my first Maine snowfall?”
My heart’s beating fast as he sends me a small, indulgent smile.
“Sure you can. You can get excited about anything you want.”
“Can I get excited about…us?” I really want to know if there’s even going to be an us. He’d seemed so doubtful before, so afraid. But he followed me here. That has to be a good sign.
Please let it be a good sign.
“I didn’t mean those things I said. I was just, well, afraid.”
I cock my head. I’ve never seen Blaze scared of anything since I met him. “Afraid?”
“Afraid to trust that when you said you’d come back, you meant it. It’s easier to be alone when it’s a choice, not something forced upon you.”
He’s talking about his parents, maybe even about Brooke. My stomach clenches thinking about Blaze all alone.
“I guess I thought if I cut you off, it would hurt less. But that’s not fair. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. I was overwhelmed that you could want what I want. That you could feel what I feel.”
“I want you to be able to trust me.”
“I do trust you. I think I need to trust us.”
“You can,” I tell him, elation making my body feel light.
“Can you forgive me for being a jerk?” he asks.
That’s easy. “Already forgotten. Can you forgive me for skipping town on you?”
“You don’t have to be chained to Sanctuary Lake, Shawn. I can work on being okay if you have to leave sometimes.”
“And maybe sometimes we can go places together.” I can already think of half a dozen spots I want to take him, starting with my parents’ house in Florida.
“Yeah, maybe we can.” He laughs, relieved, and a little choked up, and I laugh, too, and then I remember I’m allowed to touch him, and I pull him into a full body hug, one that warms me up from the tip of my nose to the soles of my feet.
I’m about to seal the deal with a kiss, but Blaze freezes and whispers, “Shawn—look.” Slowly I turn around and see what he’s seeing—a black bear, about the size of a motorcycle, walking on all fours through the construction site.
She’s not in a hurry, not afraid, doesn’t even seem to notice us, though I hold my breath and calculate how quickly Blaze and I could retreat to the safety of the Bronco’s front seats, anyway.
But we don’t; we stay still and watch her plod her way through the site of Blaze’s future front yard on feet the size of catcher’s mitts.
She’s not bothered by us, or Misty’s muted barking from the cab of the truck, or the snow falling steadily now, beginning to coat the wood pile and the cars in a layer of icy glitter.
Eventually, she reaches the edge of the cleared area and melts into the trees again.
“Wow.” I grab Blaze’s hand. “That was amazing.”
He smiles. “I told you there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“You were right.” Even though there was clearly no danger, my heart’s still beating extra fast at being that close to a large wild animal.
Or maybe my heart’s beating that way because I’m so close to the man I love.
I put my hand on his chin and kiss him with all the emotion in my galloping heart.
Snow catches in my hair, on my eyelashes, dampening my coat, but I don’t care.
Blaze and I make our own kind of warmth.
I don’t care if we stay in this bubble the rest of our lives, as long as we’re together.
Our mouths break apart, my lips pleasantly puffy. Blaze’s cheeks above his beard are apple red.
“We should probably get home ourselves,” he says.
“Right.” The lakeside cabin is mine for a few more days, but I don’t have any desire to go back there alone.
“You wanna come to my place?” Blaze offers. “I can’t remember if Brooke’s there or not, but—”
“Yes. I want that.” Even if his sister is there, it’s okay. We’ll have to get used to each other after all.
“Then let’s go home,” he says.
Brooke is there when we arrive, still in her work scrubs. She takes one look at our faces, and her answering smile is so big it looks painful. I touch my cheeks, not sure what she’s seeing there, but I imagine it looks something like a man in love.
“You’re back, Shawn.” She sends an eloquent glance at her brother. “I had a feeling you would be.”
“I’m back and I’m sticking around,” I say firmly.
“Good decision,” she says. She gives me a look I interpret as my brother is awesome, so I expect you to do right by him, and I give her a look back that I hope says, that’s my plan for the rest of my life.
She nods at me, our silent communication complete, and claps her hands together. “Well, I was going to make pasta. Sound good?”
“Sounds good except for the part where you’re cooking,” Blaze says. “That’s one thing I could never quite manage to teach her,” he says to me.
“Hey, I can cook,” she protests.
“Microwaving nachos isn’t cooking,” Blaze argues, stepping into the kitchen. “But it’s okay because I love you anyway, B.”
“Love you, too,” she says. “And I can open a bottle of wine.”
“Do that,” Blaze says while he rummages in the fridge, taking out an onion and a bell pepper.
“What’s my job?” I ask, needing to feel useful.
“You can drink wine and keep us company,” Blaze says.
“And you can dish about the Laurels. What do you think their chances are?” Brooke asks. “Also, is Jett Montevideo single?”
“Aren’t you moving in with your boyfriend in like a week?” Blaze says.
“Wait—a week?” This is news to me.
“I am, and still, Jett Montevideo is hot.”
I laugh. “I’ll take your word for that. But he’s married to baseball, kind of like I used to be.”
“You’ve never been married?” Brooke asks as she hands me a glass of merlot.
“Not yet,” I say, smiling over the rim. The wine smells tart, and the scent of frying onions as Blaze adds them to the pan on the stove stokes my hunger.
“But you would get married? If the right person came along?” she presses.
“It’s worked for my parents, forty years and counting.
” I spoke with my mom and dad on the way up here today.
Mom was ecstatic I met someone, barely paused when I told her his name was Blaze, and Dad suggested they make it a white Christmas this year and come visit us in Maine.
I also called Dr. Russell and asked to restart our appointments.
I’ll have to impose on Blaze’s Wi-Fi to attend them remotely, but it’s going to be good for me to keep working through all these big changes with a professional.
“That’s nice,” she says. “This year our parents would have been married—what? Thirty-five years?”
Blaze counts on his fingers. “Thirty-four.”
“What about you?” I turn it around on Brooke. I’ve never had a little sister, but I’m definitely seeing the appeal in having someone you can tease who gives as good as she gets. “Marriage on your bingo card?”
“I’m pretty sure Rocky would fill out a marriage license tomorrow if I gave him the green light,” she says.
Blaze squeaks out, “What?” over the sizzle of the ground sausage he’s added to the pan.
“But I’m not in a rush,” she says breezily. “We’re still getting to know each other. Living together makes sense as a next step.”
“How old are you again?” I ask.
“Twenty-six.”
“Man, when I was twenty-six, I still had to call my mom to remind me how to work an iron. You’re ahead of the game—even if you can’t cook.”
“By the way, with my room opening up, Blaze here could use a roommate.”
“Brooke,” he says, her name a warning as he stirs the fragrant meat-vegetable mixture.
“Well, I do happen to be looking for a rental,” I say, happy to take her cue. “Something small and convenient to work would be nice.”
Blaze glares at his sister. “You’re totally stealing my thunder. I was going to ask him later.”
“Well, you can ask him now,” Brooke says.
Blaze’s cheeks turn as red as the tomatoes he’s dicing for a salad.
“Well?” Brooke prompts.
Blaze wipes his hands on a dish towel, walks over to where I’m leaning against the cluttered kitchen table. “Shawn, would you like to move in with me after my meddlesome sister shacks up with her boyfriend?”
There’s only one answer to that question, and it has my heart smiling. “I’d love to.”