The girl in the green dress from the city wasn’t so different from me, after all.
When we were finished, I helped her collect the dishes and we stood at the sink, her washing and me drying. She handed me the first dish and my hand covered hers, our skin sparking at the transfer of energy. Neither of us acknowledged it, though—just worked in silence washing dish after dish, her bobbing her head along as Wu Tang spilled from her portable speaker.
I was lost in my own thoughts, thinking of how quick she was to laugh off the thought of staying in this town any longer than a few months. I used to be the same way, and I wondered where I would be now, if things were different.
“Tell me something about Dani,” she said unexpectedly as she handed me the freshly washed batter bowl.
I froze, gripping it a little too tight before numbly drying it with the towel. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Tell me a funny story about her. Or what was she like? What did she like to do?”
I frowned, but not because I was upset, more because I was surprised. Most people who didn’t know about Dani wanted to know how she died or how old she was or how I was coping. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked me about her—the girl who lived, not the one who had died.
“She was smart,” I started, a little unsure, unable to find the words to express who she was. “So damn smart. I mean, you could just be talking about anything—anything in the world—and she’d have something to say about it. She just knew things, and she loved to tell stories. Like one time when we went for a hike, we came across this plant that has leaves that curl up into themselves when you touch them, and she went on for the next hour of the hike about the name and origin and legends of the plant. I couldn’t even tell you any of it now, and I used to always tease her for it, but truthfully I liked listening to her talk.”
“She must have been so fun to be around.”
“She was.” My smile was soft, my eyes on the silverware she handed me. “She read a book a day. No shit. Like, for fun.”
Wren chuckled.
“I don’t know, she was just the most unique person I’d ever known. She was rare, especially around here.”
I paused, a little surprised at how willingly the words had spilled out. I’d barely talked about Dani since she passed, not to anyone besides Momma Von, anyway. But I wanted to tell Wren, wanted her to know. Maybe that should have been exciting, but I found myself unsettled, and I wasn’t sure how to process it.
Wren nodded, and as if she knew dark thoughts crept into my heart like shadows, she changed the subject. “And what about you? What got you into doing what you do?”
My throat tightened. It was easier to talk about Dani than myself, as crazy as that was. “I don’t know. I just like to fix things.” I shrugged. “Things are easier to fix than people are.”
Wren cut the water, drying her hands on the towel hanging from the oven before leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms. “Do you love to do it?”
“I’m good at it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I folded the damp towel I’d dried the dishes with and hung it over the rack. “I like it well enough.”
“What would you do if money and circumstances didn’t matter, if you had a fresh start on a new life?”
“Wow, we’re getting heavy now,” I said with a smirk.
“Humor me.”
Wren’s eyes were wide and soft, without judgment—pure curiosity radiated from behind them. She wrapped a hand around the glass of wine she’d sat beside the sink and lifted it to her lips, waiting.
“I think I’d travel,” I answered honestly and for the first time out loud. “I’d like to see more of the world, more than just this tiny cabin town in the Pacific Northwest.”
She nodded, smiling. “I want to travel, too. I’ve done a little bit, but there’s still so much more to discover. I think traveling is like getting a tattoo. Hard not to get addicted after the first taste.”
I watched her, wondering where she came from, where she was going. I’d just opened my mouth to ask her when she cut me off with a chuckle, eyes skirting to my lower abdomen.
“You should let me fix your clothes.”
I looked down and cursed, shoving the broken button back under the band of my jeans. “My clothes are fine.”
“I know they are,” she said, and any embarrassment I’d had faded when I looked up at her again. “I’m just saying, when do you ever buy new clothes?”
“Why would I need new clothes to sweat in and cover with grease and dirt?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so argumentative.”
For a moment she just looked at me, debating her next words, like she was just as apprehensive about the idea as I was.
“I just... I’m kind of lost right now. Nothing is inspiring me and my sketches look worse than the ones I did in high school the year I broke my fingers and had to sketch with my left hand.” She laughed a little, chewing the inside of her cheek. “What if you just let me fix up a few things—replace buttons, patch up holes in your jeans—nothing crazy.”
I scowled. “My clothes are fine.”
She laughed out loud that time, kicking off the counter to take a big step toward me. The sweet scent of her perfume floated into my space, surrounding me, and I breathed her in with a long sigh.
“Come on, Grumpy. Just give me something to do before I go crazy. It’s the least you can do since you won’t let me pay you for the work you’re doing around here.”
I considered that—it would drive me insane if someone did anything for me without letting me pay them back in some way. And even though it felt stupid and unnecessary, I blew out a long breath and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Fine. But don’t add anything girly or weird.”
She held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. Only frills and pink plaid patches for you, tough guy.”
I frowned but cracked a smile when she threw her head back laughing. She had a beautiful laugh, one that made the ground beneath my feet feel unsteady.
“It’s still early,” she mused, checking the time on the clock. “What do you say we take a dip in the hot tub?”
I should go home. I should go take a cold shower and go to bed. “Sure. Just need to run down to grab trunks.”
“That’s fine,” she said with an excited smile. “I have to take all this stuff off anyway.” She gestured to all of her, her clothes and her face, and I hated how my hand twitched at the thought of being the one to get to unzip that dress.
“Meet you back here in ten.”
She brushed past me, smiling over her shoulder as she skipped toward the stairs. “Don’t be late.”