14. Bryn
FOURTEEN
Bryn
Stetson’s cabin didn’t stay Stetson’s cabin for long.
For one thing, he had to get a TV—that was non-negotiable. I needed to watch movies while I was decompressing from research all day, and Stetson needed to…well, see movies for the first time.
He fought it at first, of course—claimed TV would rot his brain, draw him away from the land, make him “soft.” But I’d already seen him cry laughing at “pug yoga” memes on my phone while pretending to scowl and look away, so I knew his resistance was performative.
In the end, the prospect of watching “Tremors” and “Lonesome Dove” with a beer in hand, a dog sprawled across our legs, and my head tucked under his chin wore him down in record time.
The day after our movie marathon kicked off, a delivery truck trundled down the dirt drive, its wheels slicing ruts in the wet clay.
I’d ordered the television online, using his address without asking, then strong-armed him into helping me wire it into the ancient, wood-paneled living room.
He grumbled the entire way through unboxing, tsked at the styrofoam, criticized the waste…
then threw it all in his truck to make sure it got sorted into the right pile.
And the deliveries? They were far from over.
I had some of my lab equipment shipped over from the university, had to get a printer so I could file the paperwork to protect the aquifer.
I started to get a sick pleasure out of conquering every inch of his territory with Prime.
The packages stacked up along the porch rail like little markers of occupation: pipette tips, more field notebooks, a horrifyingly bright pink watering can for the two succulents I’d already smuggled in.
I set up a miniature battle station in the corner of the living room, taking over a side table Stetson had been using as a spot for his keys and wallet (which, as it turned out, he could never remember to put in the same place twice anyway).
Within two weeks, the entire left side of the cabin smelled like thermal printer ink, fresh plastic, and unfiled paperwork.
The dog seemed to love it. Buck started sleeping there during the day, curled around the base of the printer—which was hot, and vibrated gently, and was exactly as alive as any animal in the cabin, as far as Buck was concerned.
Stetson noticed the shift before I did—or at least he named it first, standing in the doorway one evening with mud on his boots, looking at the mess of cables and notebooks like he was cataloging an invasive species.
“This used to be a chair,” he said, nodding at the wooden chair now buried under a stack of USGS groundwater reports.
“It’s still a chair. It’s just supporting important documents.”
“Can’t sit in it.”
“You have more chairs.”
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes…found him smiling.
My ex had never smiled at me like that. Not ever, even when I thought he was it, that we were endgame.
It had been on my mind a lot these past few days…wow—weeks, now, not days. I’d been building a life in Stetson’s little cabin and he actually liked the energy I brought here, the chaos. My ex, Michael, had been irritated by it. Said I ran a messy lab, just like I had a messy house, a messy car.
“Where’s your head at?” Stetson asked.
He’d taken his shoes off and was sitting beside me, one hand idly scratching behind Buck’s ears.
I looked back at my paperwork, the filing that was almost complete.
“Was just thinking about my ex.”
His jaw tightened. “What about him?”
“He just…used to say I was messy.” I gestured at the printer, the vials, a houseplant I’d impulse bought at the farmer’s market last weekend set beside a pink watering can. “This would’ve driven him insane.”
“Good thing he’s not here.”
“Why’s that?”
Stetson’s lips quirked. “I’d have to clock him in the jaw.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “You would…obliterate him.”
“Love’ll do that.”
“No, I meant because you’re so much bigger than—”
I paused, tripping over what he’d just said.
“Stetson—you—”
He was staring right at me, didn’t so much as blink…just shook his head, his face soft as he smiled. “Said it. Ain’t takin’ it back.”
I laughed in surprise. “You love me.”
“Don’t say it like it’s so outlandish.”
“Well, it is.”
He reached for me with one hand, and I took it—only for Stetson to pull me into his lap, straddling him.
He set his hands on my hips and hummed low in his throat.
“I don’t just let people in, Bryn,” he said.
“Not into my home. Not with all their things. Not into my bed…not my heart. So yeah. I love you.”
I framed his face in both hands, mud-dust and evening stubble under my palms.
“Say it one more time,” I said.
“I love you.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Now don’t make me say it a fourth or I’ll start chargin’ you.”
“Worth every penny.”
“Cheap talk from a woman who hasn’t paid me a cent since she moved her printer in.”
I laughed and he pulled me down to kiss him slow.
“I love you too,” I finally said when we came up for air. “Have for a while. Wasn’t sure how you’d take hearing it.”
“Take it fine.”
“Clearly.”
Buck sighed heavily at the foot of the chair, clearly displeased at being ignored, and flopped himself directly onto the stack of reports I'd spent the whole afternoon organizing.
I didn’t really care.
This was my life…and I was in love.