Chapter 24 #2
“Lean forward,” he grumbles as he carefully maneuvers himself behind me. “You have a goose egg back here.”
“I know, I could feel it forming.”
“I don’t think you can feel a knot forming.”
“I beg to differ.” I feel him tugging at my hair and parting it, then more tugging. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to braid your hair on this side so I can keep it off the wound,” he answers, saying it so simply that it doesn’t even register for a minute.
“You can braid?”
“Birdie, I have three sisters.”
“Having sisters doesn’t automatically mean you know how to braid. My brother has me, and I know he doesn’t know how.”
His deft fingers barely pull at my head as he continues on. “Tie?”
I flip the one off my wrist and hand it to him.
“I was the only boy, and there aren’t a lot of kids in Silent Springs. More often than not, I spent most of my time with my twin. She kept getting her hair caught, so I learned to braid.” He explains it with such nonchalance that all I can feel is wonder.
Then the sweet man pours something on my head that makes me hiss in pain. I try to jerk away, but dizziness washes over me, and Arlo just pulls me right back. “What was that?” I cry out.
“Peroxide.” He dabs at the wound, then goes to braid the other side. “Autumn and I always got into something, and more often than not, ended up hurt in some way. Most of the time it was unintentional, and we tried to hide it from Mom before we got back to the house.”
“Autumn seems like that kind of girl.” I think of the rough around the edges woman with warmth.
“She is. But she is also a sweetheart. Avoids relationships at all costs.”
“She told me that she’s afraid of getting hurt.”
“You two can relate to that.”
“Hey!” I scold him, but there’s no heat there, only truth. He tugs my head back again, smoothing my flyaways, and I dig another hair tie from my pocket and hand it over when I feel him getting to the end.
“It’s an enormous bubble, but the skin split a bit. I’m going to leave it open for now.” He gently prods my scalp, and I imagine him as a teen, cleaning up his sister’s wounds and taking care of her.
I turn in his arms, lean my head on his thigh, and glance up at him. “What’s the one thing in this world you love to do above any other?”
He cups my face, leisurely stroking his thumb against my cheek. “Explore.” I raise a brow at him, hoping he continues. “I love to just take a weekend and go, and find those hidden areas untouched by civilization. I love to find those concealed waterfalls and the areas unknown.”
“That sounds incredible,” I say, with a genuine desire to join him next time.
“Do you think that you and Lark would want to join me?”
“I think we’d both love that.”
For a moment, he just stares down at me with appreciation in his gaze, and it’s full of love that should terrify me. I’ve only known this man for a few weeks, but he means so much more to me.
“I like you, Birdie.”
“I am in severe like with you, Arlo Larson.”
“I want to kiss you.” He leans down to do just that, but he brushes the softest kiss against my forehead. “Even though you are a complete klutz.”
“Yes, but it will be a fun story.”
“Oh, it will be imprinted in my mind for a while, just like you tripping onto the stone, then again into the mud pit.” He pauses in mock thought. “Maybe we should get you checked out by the doc when we get back.”
“My eyes are fine,” I reply, feeling a little nauseous.
“Let’s get you set up on the couch.” As he rises, he lifts me with him, holding me as though I’m the most delicate piece of glass. We walk over to the couch, and then once more, we sit, but this time, it’s together. He leans me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.
“Want to watch a movie?” I ask.
“Nope, you can’t if you have a concussion, don’t want to strain your eyes.” His chest rumbles with laughter.
“Oh, that’s just plain mean.” Especially because when we arrived, I had imagined this night going a hundred different ways.
“I set an alarm on my phone for every two hours,” he murmurs into my hair.
My heart aches. Never in all my life have I ever had someone take such incredible care of me.
Nor have I ever had someone treat me as though I’m something amazing.
Aside from Eric and, well, he wasn’t even a lover, but a friend.
One I cherish and miss with all my heart.
But Silent Springs and Arlo continue to mend my wounds.
“Why is the town called Silent Springs?” I yawn. Knowing that isn’t a good sign, I hurry to add, “I already know why, but keep talking to me.”
“There’s a spring up in the mountain, close to the Canadian border.”
“Is it a hot spring?”
“Yep.” He chuckles. “Do you want to go on a hike? That can be our first exploration.”
I yawn again. “Yeah.”
“Hey, none of that.” He yawns as well.
“You aren’t psychotic,” I murmur, feeling exhausted, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the concussion.
“I read that as well,” he answers, recalling the theory that if you catch a yawn, you aren’t psychotic.
Feeling safe, I snuggle into his arms.
“Keep talking, but if you fall asleep, I’ve got you.” He brushes his lips against my forehead again. “I’ll watch you as you sleep, Birdie.”
For the next two hours, we talk about everything under the sun—what our lives were like as kids, our favorite movies, color, and more. I fall in love with Arlo Larson.
All because I got a concussion by landing on a Matchbox car. One I’ll keep forever.