“You could unpack some of that stuff, you know,” Dan said, and she suddenly realized he hadn’t disappeared into the bathroom. He was standing in the little hallway, watching her. “It’s not like I don’t have empty drawers sitting around.”
“Dan…” No, she could not unpack that bag. It was her last line of defense against heartbreak. She had too much breaking things in her, too little wherewithal for heartbreak. This was the end of the line with them. As far as it could go.
She really hoped that hockey tryout swooped in and saved her from having to do the breaking herself.
“Let me guess,” he said. “This is the part where you turn into the douchey guy who doesn’t want me getting any ideas.”
“Dan—”
“I’ve been that guy on occasion, so I think I know the signs.”
“Dan—”
“Stop saying my name, unpack your damn bag, and get the pained look off your face. What are you so weirded out by? It’s not like you can’t pack up and go in a hurry if you want.”
He stepped into the bathroom, effectively ending the conversation, which was good. Because if he had stayed, she might have been tempted to tell him there were a lot of things to be afraid of. Mainly that if she unpacked, even with her worry over Shaw, she might never want to leave.
Would that really be so bad?
It was a question she didn’t know how to break down and answer. She could think of all the ways it would be terrible. Awful. Fights and abandonment and resentment and bitterness. She could picture it all as if it had already happened. All she had to do was conjure up a memory or two of her parents’ raucous fights there toward the end.
Mom wanted more. Dad wanted exactly what he had. Secrets had been born and flourished into vines that choked everyone out. And, oh, could she see history repeating itself one way or another.
Because if she hadn’t been able to fix it then, what in her now would be able to fix it if it happened with her as a participating party?
No, she had to keep that line of defense. So she left her bag packed. She went to the kitchen to make the coffee and to keep things going as they had been. All she had to do was keep everything as it was and…
Well, she had no idea what followed that, but she’d rather keep her head down and not think about it.
*
Dan had learned a lot about himself since coming to Blue Valley over a month ago. Firstly, he liked llamas. Not that he’d ever considered his feelings on them one way or another, but now he knew. He liked working with them. They were kind of standoffish and weird at first, but it was all the more rewarding when they treated you with respect.
Maybe llama respect was crazy, but he didn’t have to admit it to anyone. It could be his little secret.
So there was that, and then the surprise that hard work didn’t necessarily mean forgetting everything else. Sometimes hard work gave him more than ample time to think about hockey, but it was a good kind of thinking. Effective. Decisive.
If Scott got him the tryout, that was great, but he wouldn’t drop everything here. He would make sure everything was settled before he went back. He’d spend his summers here, and when the time came—if the time wasn’t now—he’d retire here.
This was his present and it was his future, regardless of what opportunities arose. If no opportunities arose, here he was.
He looked around the stables. They were making sure everything was set for his herd delivery tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would have a whole group of llamas living here.
He grinned, couldn’t help himself. He had built this, and he would sustain it.
He glanced at Mel, who was working to repair the hinge of the door from the stables to the enclosure. She was bent over, twisting a screwdriver around as she cursed under her breath. The sun from outside haloed her profile, and it reminded him of the third thing he was slowly inching his way toward learning about himself.
He was shitty at holding his tongue when he cared about somebody. With Mel not just working with him but living with him, trying to keep his mouth shut was a daily battle.
This morning had been more of a failure than a battle on all counts. Too much of himself was bleeding all over every moment. He should rein it in, pull back a little. Escape.
But he saw her there, flannel shirt pushed back to her elbows, a few strands of brown hair escaping her braid, and her face lined with sheer determination…and he didn’t want to escape. He was drawn to that, to her, to this.
He wanted more. All of it. She had let part of that wall she kept herself hidden behind down, and he kept thinking that next thing would be enough, but she was still holding something back.
There were moments that were comfortable—far more comfortable than that night at the hockey rink, the way she’d said she cared about him as if he was wresting a criminal confession from her.
But the stronger he felt about this place, about what he could do here, the stronger he felt about his ability to make something with Mel. Which meant comfort wasn’t what he was after.
He stood from where he’d been organizing the feed, suddenly filled with a kind of purpose. He wanted better than this strange limbo they’d found themselves in.