Chapter Eleven
River
“You know it’s three o’clock in the morning, right?” Leighton closes the picket fence gate and steps lightly up the paved sidewalk. She’s grinning, coming toward me like a woman floating on a breeze.
Anchored in a wooden rocking chair, I flatten my lips. “Your point?”
“Why are you still up?” She takes the chair beside me, crossing her legs and leaning toward me. “Were you waiting for me to get home?”
“Nope.” I fold my hands across my stomach, staring ahead.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Something like that.” I exhale. Story of my life.
“Can I ask you something?” Leighton’s brows are furrowed, like she’s concentrating, and she rests her chin on top of her hand.
“No.” I rise to head in, only she reaches for me, tugging on my sleeve until I return to my seat.
“Talk to me.”
“We’re not friends,” I remind her.
“We don’t need to be friends to talk.” She sits up tall in her rocker, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just curious about some things.”
“And those things are probably none of your business.” My words are sharp, cutting.
“I know that,” she says, watching me. “Doesn’t make me any less curious.”
We linger in silence for a moment, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the rare bellow of a cow calling her calf somewhere over the hill.
“When I talked to Molly earlier, she said some things…” Leighton pauses.
“Molly says a lot of things.”
“She gave me the impression that you weren’t always like this.”
I scoff. “Weren’t always like what?”
“Closed off. Bitter. Temperamental.” Leighton seems to choose her words carefully, but it doesn’t make them any easier to swallow.
I know what I’ve become. In fact, I’m well aware. No man has his heart and soul pulverized and comes out completely unscathed. I may not have visible scars, but it doesn’t mean they’re not there, taking up permanent residence just beneath the surface.
I feel them every day, a stark reminder of everything I lost.
One day she was here …
The next day she was gone. And she took my whole world with her.
And it wasn’t her fault. Not one bit. It was mine.
That’s something I have to live with the rest of my life.
“Molly thinks you’re lonely,” she says, releasing a gentle chuckle.
Dragging in a ragged breath, I ponder my answer before letting it go. “I’m not sure why you think any of that would concern you.”
“So you are.”
“I didn’t say that,” I snap.
“Well, Molly seems to think that, and she says you guys have known each other since you were kids.” Leighton rocks, staring up at a starless sky with her hands folded across her lower belly. I glance away. “She’s worried about you. She wants to see you smile again.”
“Smiling’s overrated.”
“Molly wants me to stick around,” she says, “for your sake. I told her it probably wasn’t a good idea. I feel like you find me annoying.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong.”
Her brows lift, her jaw unhinges. “Really? So you do find me annoying …”
“You talk way too much. You ask too many questions. And for a city girl, you’re awfully na?ve.”
She stands, hands on her hips. “You don’t talk enough. You don’t ask nearly enough questions because you don’t seem to care about anyone but yourself. And for a small-town boy, you’re awfully rude.”
I rise, towering over her and breathing out my nose. She smells like a bar: cheap beer and stale cigarettes. I liked her better when she smelled like my soap and her exotic perfume.
Nothing about this woman belongs here, in this town. She’s too polished and pretty, her eyes too filled with life and hope. This town would chew her up and spit her out, just like it has everyone else who stuck around.
“I’m going to bed,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “You can’t just walk away.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because we’re fighting. And you’re trying to run from it.”
“Don’t use my words against me.” I shake my head, hooking my thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans. “I’m not running, Leighton. I’m tired. I’m going to bed. And trust me. We’re not fighting, sweetheart. You’d know if we were.”
Leighton’s hands grip the sides of her head, tugging at her dark hair, and she releases an exasperated moan. I imagine I’m infuriating her right now, but I don’t particularly care. In fact, I couldn’t care less.
“Goodnight, now.” I head back inside, letting the screen door slam behind me.
My hand grips the banister as I head upstairs for bed when I hear the creak of the door and the sigh of my “roommate.”
“I don’t like this,” she says. “I don’t like walking on egg shells. I don’t like not knowing where I stand with you.”
I say nothing, keeping my back toward her.
“I’ve got another week here,” she continues. “Let’s figure out a way to make this at least somewhat enjoyable for the both of us.”
Climbing the stairs, I say nothing.
A week from now, she’ll be gone, and there’s no sense in letting myself get attached.
Chapter Twelve
Leighton
“I’m sorry about last night.” I slide my hands in my jeans pockets as River crouches beside a broken barbed wire fence. “I pushed you too far.”
He says nothing.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I add. “This is your home, and I need to respect your wishes and stay out of your business.” He drops a pair of fencing pliers on the grass and exhales. “And you’re right. We’re not friends. We’re strangers. I literally know nothing about you, and I guess I let my curiosity get the best of me because you have to admit, River, you’re a little mysterious.” I chuckle. “But I’ll stop with the questions. And I’ll stay out of your way.”
He glances up at me, his lips pressed flat, and then reaches for his wire stretcher.
Placing my hand over my heart, I say, “I just want you to know I’m extremely grateful that you’re letting me stay here. All my best childhood memories were here, with my family. It may just be an old farmhouse to you, but to me it’s heaven on earth. So thank you.”
The moment I’m done saying my piece, I head for the hen house to start my chores.
And to give him some space.
Seth stands outside the back door of The Oasis at nine o’clock sharp, and the moment he sees me pull up, his crystalline blue eyes light up from within.
“You ready?” he asks when I climb out of my car. His keys jangle in his hands, and I follow him to a freshly waxed Ford F-250 with dealer plates and a flawless paint job the color of a moonless night sky. The bar business must be good to him.
He gets the passenger door for me, closing it gently as soon as I’m settled.