Chapter 3
Three
Paisley
"Will we be okay out here?" I question the man who saved my life. What I'm hearing from the news report is starting to make me nervous. At the same time, there's a part of me that likes the sound of being somewhere other than where I've been for the last year.
"Yeah." He nods. "I'm used to this. There's a good six months out of the year it's possible I can't get to town.
It's one of the reasons I'm the Livestock Agent for this part of the county.
None of them know this area like I do. If you need to get back to town, we can do it.
It's just gonna be difficult and your car will have to stay until the bridge is fixed. "
The seriousness of the situation we find ourselves in sits heavy on my chest. Almost as heavy as the situation I found myself in a few hours ago. Nodding, I inhale deeply. "Do we have to worry about running out of food or anything of that nature?"
"No." He shakes his head. "You don't have to be concerned about that.
I'm used to it, and I make sure there's enough here for at least three people for the winter.
Will we have to conserve at some point? Maybe.
But I'm a firm believer in not borrowing trouble. We'll figure it out when we get there."
The quiet calm he has calms me too, and I realize we haven't officially been introduced. "Do you know my name?"
He jerks his head to the side. "No, I don't. All I know is dispatch called me and asked me to intervene."
Swallowing roughly, I stick my hand out in between us. "I'm Paisley."
He takes it, and I can't help but notice the callouses on his palms, and the edges of his fingers. They're indicative of how hard he seems to work. "Chase. It's nice to meet you."
"Thank you," I whisper. "For saving me."
Pushing his hand through his hair, he clears his throat. "I did what anyone in my position would've done."
"No." I shake my head. "No you didn't. I asked for help. Maybe not in the actual words, but for over a year I've asked people to see me. Really see me. To notice what I've been going through. No one did, Chase. But you? Someone who'd never met me before - stepped in and stopped me."
Judging by the firm set of his body, he's embarrassed and uncomfortable that I've praised him. He gives a shake of his head. "I'm no hero, Paisley, but I'm glad I could help you."
The silence stretches between the two of us to the point where I start to become uncomfortable.
"Are you getting hungry?" He questions, folding his arms over his chest. "I can make us some dinner."
I'm not used to anyone asking what I want, or not expecting me to do the work. "I can help you, I'm not an invalid. I know it may seem as if I don't have a good head on my shoulders, but I do."
"Never said that."
"Right, I'm projecting. Do you need help, Chase?"
He raises his eyebrows, looking at me as if he isn't sure how I'm going to react.
"You don't have to help me. I'm used to taking care of myself.
But if you don't want to be by yourself, you can stay in here and keep me company.
I can't promise I'm the best person to talk to, but you won't be alone. "
It's as if he can see into my head. Hear the thoughts that are rolling around inside. "Okay, I promise not to get in your way."
"You're not going to get in my way."
Swallowing hard, I lean against the counter. "No, you're wrong. I do. It's what I do. All the time."
His dark eyes meet mine. "If someone's telling you that you get in the way, then they're assholes."
A small grin plays at the corner of my lips. "You're right. They are assholes. Take a seat over there." He points to the kitchen table. "Is there anything you don't like to eat?"
"I'm not a huge fan of mushrooms or cabbage. Anything else, I can stomach if need be."
"What about pizza?"
"Frozen?"
"No, I make most everything by hand out here. It's easier that way. My grandmother taught me how to make a sourdough starter, and I use it in almost everything," he admits, ducking his chin into his chest.
"You make sourdough?" I grin over.
It amazes me that I'm grinning after how this day started.
The truth is I never thought I'd have these moments.
Beyond anything, I was prepared to end it all in that field.
Looking up at the clock, I think about what it would mean if I didn't see those numbers.
And it's all because of this man and the dispatcher on the phone.
"I do." He smiles over his shoulder at me.
"What I normally do is a sourdough pizza in the oven, on cast iron.
Is that good for you? I've got some homemade pizza sauce a neighbor made earlier this year, that I've been going through.
I've got cheese, and pepperoni's." My eyes track his movements as he goes over to the fridge.
"Ton of vegetables in here I need to use up.
I normally eat one pizza on my own. When I make two, I don't want you to think I'm assuming you eat as much as I do. "
It's cute, the way he's stumbling over his words. It's exactly what I need after the day I've had. "Whatever you make, I'll eat. Thank you for worrying about me."
"No problem."
And then that silence comes back, but at least this time it's not as uncomfortable as it was before.