Chapter 29 #2
And I’m still taking other things in, too. Like how phenomenally relieved I am. And how incredibly much I’ve come to care for this man. And how fragile and nutty it’s apparently made me. “I’m an idiot,” I declare for more reasons than one.
He tilts his head, flashes a sexy sort of grin. “Well, it’s nice to know ya care. Never thought you’d be the jealous type. I like it.”
I sigh, not crazy about having let that cat out of the bag. “Don’t let it go to your head, Chief Cordray.”
The man understands me enough, and respects my sensibilities enough, to just—that easily—move on, simply asking me with raised eyebrows, “You wanna burger or not?”
Okay, I do and I don’t. The normalcy of spending some time with him after all this appeals. A lot. But it almost seems like a bad idea—I don’t enjoy the level of emotion I’ve suffered for him today.
I’m hungry, though, and that wins out, so I say, “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That we never speak of this again. I’ll go chop up a tomato and get some cheese.” And with that, I walk away, needing to escape my embarrassment—and some other feelings, too.
I still can’t believe Joy Lynn is his sister.
I still can’t believe the other part, either. The part I don’t want to put a label on.
But I know what the label is anyway. I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with the cowboy next door.
“You’re quiet,” Matt observes as we dine on burgers and baked beans across from each other at the little back porch table.
“I know.” I’ve been sitting here feeling distant, withdrawn, embarrassed. Lots of things. More than I can even name. “Sorry. It’s been a weird couple of days.”
“I get it,” he says. “And I’m sorry if I made it worse by ...” He gives his head a short shake. “I really thought it had come up somewhere along the way that Joy Lynn is my sister, for God’s sake. And like I said ... she’s not my favorite person. I just love her anyway.”
“That must be frustrating.” Suddenly, I don’t mind being an only child—I guess siblings can be a crapshoot, even when you’re raised by the same parents.
Then I ask, reluctantly, “What was happening today anyway, in the alley, when you were hugging her?” Reluctant because there’s a part of me, which I can’t control, that’s trying to pull back and doesn’t want to dig deeper, get closer.
Ironically, I know it’s me trying to take control of the situation.
The situation where I think I’m in love and that’s terrifying. But I ask anyway.
“Trouble with Toby,” he replies on a sigh. “He ran away last night.”
“Oh wow,” I reply, realizing these are problems I’ve never had to deal with.
“She found him—at a friend’s,” he adds quickly. “But there’s a lotta trouble there, and frankly, I don’t blame the kid—he hasn’t had a great life so far. I probably need to get more involved, do more than just occasionally take him fishin’.” He drops his gaze, clearly feeling guilty.
But I think he’s noble. He doesn’t have to do anything —but he wants to, because he’s a good guy. Crap. Maybe it would have been better in the long run—for me—if he wasn’t, if he really had let me down. If I saw him letting other people down. It would make leaving so much easier.
“Anyway,” he says, “I don’t go around huggin’ my sister too often—our relationship is pretty much that she loves me until she hates me until she needs me, and today she needed me, so I was there.”
I only nod. Instead of telling him what a good guy he is. Because I don’t want to keep reminding myself.
Yesterday and today have just been ...
too much. Suddenly, a couple of days away sounds like a much-needed vacation.
And ... maybe it should be a permanent one.
Maybe all the emotion these last two days is the universe sending me a message—maybe it’s time to say goodbye to Lost and Found and go home where I belong.
“Will you feed the cat while I’m gone?” I ask.
He takes the last bite of his burger. “Sure.”
“Maybe visit with her a little?” I add. “She strikes me as independent, but like she still values some company.”
“When will you be back?”
The question hangs in the air and I can barely look at him.
His eyes feel like they’re touching me again.
But this time seeing through me. Understanding me too much.
Maybe they’re seeing me pull away, even as I attempt to carry on a totally normal conversation with him.
“Day after tomorrow. Probably in the evening.”
“So you have two doctor’s appointments?”
“Mm-hmm,” I say between sips of iced tea. “Just checkups, though. Nothing bad.”
“What else is on the agenda?”
“Seeing Kevin and Sydney. And just generally checking in on my ... life.”
I instantly feel weird having said it. Like this, here, isn’t my life.
Like it doesn’t count. But the last few days have reminded me that .
.. well, this softer, gentler chick I’ve let myself turn into here .
.. that softness comes with pitfalls. The ones I’ve known all along.
The reasons I toughened up in the first place.
Life is easier when you don’t let yourself get all wrapped up in people . .. and feelings ... and romance.
So I decide it’s a good time to say, “Speaking of which, I have an early morning, so ...”
He almost hides his surprise, but not quite—I see it in his eyes. Despite the upset of the day, he thought we’d be together tonight. Especially since I implied as much last night. And since I’ll be gone for a couple of days.
“No problem,” he says anyway. “I understand.”
As we carry dirty dishes inside, I wonder just exactly how much he does understand. How transparent I’ve become.
As he goes to leave a moment later, he grabs my hand, kisses it, and then leans in to kiss my forehead. “’Night, Jessie.”
“Goodnight,” I murmur. Despite having just eaten, my stomach feels hollow.
I wait near the kitchen counter as he opens the back door and steps out into the darkness.
But he stops before closing it and peers back at me. “Summer’s almost over,” he says. “And I know you wouldn’t stay if I asked ya to, so I’ll save myself the embarrassment. But I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply—just gives me one last look, shuts the door, and heads home.
Despite myself, I walk over to the window and gaze out into the dark. There are no more fireflies blinking in the backyard. He’s right—summer’s almost over.