by Lindsey Hart
And then, with absolutely no warning at all, Hector’s eyes rolled up into his head, exposing the whites for just a second, before he crumpled into the dusty worn floorboards.
CHAPTER 4
Hector
Warm hands. Warm hands and a soft touch.
It was the first thing that cut through the black darkness in his head, a blackness so strong he couldn’t open his eyes. They felt like they were glued shut. He thought, for a moment, that it was his grandmother’s hands, stroking his face tenderly like she’d done when he was a child, sick and fevered.
He basked in it for just a second, leaning into the touch, maybe just subconsciously, before he realized those hands were too small. They were too sweet, too soft, too young. Where were the callouses and wrinkles?
His eyes flew open as the blackness gave way. It was like coming out of a deep sleep all at once and being perfectly horribly aware of everything going on.
Laney stared back at him. Her hair was draped all around his face like a fiery curtain. He realized that she’d picked up his head and set it on her knees. She was still caressing his forehead, even when her eyes fixed on his.
He tried to pull away, but she held him there with a hand on his shoulder. The fact that she could, small as she was, started a stream of panic flowing in his chest.
“Don’t try and get up for a minute. Just stay still until you’re sure you’re ready. If you hurt yourself, we’re in the middle of nowhere and I am definitely not strong enough to carry you anywhere for help.”
If only she knew what kind of hell he went through, watching her move amongst all those things that shouldn’t mean anything. He said they shouldn’t. They were just things. But they were things that had belonged to the people he loved and now they were gone. They were gone and he was entirely alone in the world. The pain of that hit him so hard, for the first time, that he couldn’t even breathe. There was absolutely no air going into his lungs and then everything went black.
He moved parched lips, but no sound came out. His throat felt like it was jammed full of cotton and dust. Dust. He realized Laney was kneeling on the dirty floor in her pretty pale pink dress. It was probably going to be ruined. That and her useless fancy boots. The beautiful emerald eyes staring back at him, flooded with concern, gave him the impression that she didn’t care about her attire at all. It was him, a complete stranger, she was worried for.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said softly. “You were just standing there. You weren’t breathing right and then you just toppled over. I got to you as quickly as I could. I checked your head over, but there isn’t any blood or bumps. I think the rest of you took most of the blow. You scared the shit out of me though.”
Hearing her swear, the perfect little pixie with the perfect lush lips, it made him smile. That smile seemed to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
“How long…”
“A couple minutes. If it had been any more, I would have called an ambulance. Seriously, don’t do that again.”
“I… I don’t know what happened.”
But he did. He knew exactly what happened. Grief. It hit him like a fucking wall. Rose up out of nowhere and laid him out flat. Right behind Laney, behind that pile of furniture organized so neatly and untouched for years, was a pile of boxes. His grandfather’s things. He’d moved them out there after he passed. And completely forgotten about them until his eyes chanced on one of the flaps with the black writing. His grandmother’s writing. Dress shirts. A box of them folded neatly. They probably still held his grandfather’s smell. Old cologne and pipe tobacco. Wind and rain and leather. The scent of hard work and animals, the Texas dirt and the sky…
It hurt. Lord, did it fucking hurt. All of it. Laney, just by being there, ripped the scab off of everything he thought had finally healed. Little did he know that his past was there, festering, the ache of loss still as raw and open as the day it happened.
“Do you want to try and get up now?”
“I thought you said that it wasn’t a good idea.”
Her lips, god, those beautiful coral colored lips, curled into a smile that could have laid him out again. “I did, but my knees are currently being grinded to dust and my feet are numb. Your color is starting to come back. You were so pale before, but you look a little better now. We can take it easy. Or I can just sit here for a little longer and suck it up.”
“No, I’ll get up.”
“I’ll help. And don’t refuse. If you get dizzy again or whatever and hit your head… seriously. I’m no good with blood.”
He nearly smiled at the look on her face. He regretted being harsh to her earlier. He was only angry with himself. Angry that he didn’t have the means to keep the house or the farm and do right by his grandparents. He was angry with himself for being scared to leave. Being scared to move forward.
“Alright…”
Those small hands moved away from his face and braced under his shoulders. Hector dug his heels into the floor, got his hands under him and pushed up to sitting. He nearly hit Laney in the face as he did so and she fell back, laughing softly. The sound was so sweet and pretty it was almost like a balm to the pain festering inside of him. The pain that made it impossible to breathe. He tested his lungs, drew in a shaky breath and found that it stuck. Every breath after was a little easier.
“I didn’t count on this when I came here, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll bet,” he said gruffly. His eyes swiveled to the stack of boxes, nearly hidden. His stomach lurched and heaved. Bile flooded the back of his throat.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look well.”
“No… I feel-” He knew he needed to cut that off and get out of the barn. The bile was doing more than just burning. He felt like he was either going to vomit or pass out again. He needed to get outside, in the fresh air.
Hector stumbled to his feet and even though the blackness danced at the edges of his vision, he propelled himself to the door. He stumbled outside and took great heaving breaths. The clean air did manage to push back the violent surge to heave up whatever he’d had for breakfast. He couldn’t even remember. His stomach burned and churned, but he figured it was going to stay put for the time being.
Just being out of the barn, away from the reminders of a past he couldn’t bring back, of people he wouldn’t ever see again, felt better.
For a minute. And then that gaping wound of grief inside his chest ripped wide open. He sat down hard on the grass and stared off in the direction of the rolling pastureland, seeing nothing at all. His eyes refused to focus. They’re gone. They’re really all gone. It’s just me. And I am so fucking lost.
He didn’t realize that his cheeks were wet or that his shoulders were heaving or that there was a sound, a horrible keening sound, escaping his throat until Laney walked out of the barn.
She hesitated there at the entrance. She seemed to be debating with herself and then she uttered something that sounded very close to, “fuck it.” She stalked over and dropped to her knees again and did the unthinkable. She wrapped her tiny little arms around him and pulled him in against her. His head fell to her shoulder, to her hair. He remembered earlier, the panic at the realization that he was going to be trapped in the barn with her and that her smell would haunt him.
It was stupid. That thought. The smell of her was… it was comforting. Just as her hands in his hair, on his back, tracing silent circles on his worn shirt were comforting. He breathed in and filled his lungs up with her sweet scent.
God, she’s so incredible. She smelled so good. She was tender and soft and kind. It was her kindness that broke him. It undid him, brought the worst of everything to the surface so that he could just try and let it go.
After a minute he broke away. It was the softness in Laney’s eyes that drove him to push her away gently and get to his feet. The hot wave of shame and mortification was almost immediate. She was a stranger. He was a man. A grown fucking man. And he’d wept all o
ver her like a baby. She must be confused and terrified. She must think he was crazy.
“Please… just take what you want,” he mumbled. “Take it. It’s yours.” He turned and walked stiffly up the driveway, back to the small white farmhouse.
Laney didn’t follow. Her little steps didn’t shadow his. He was able to get to the house and lock himself in there. He expected to feel safe, with that door between himself and whatever the fuck had happened to him out there in the barn and the yard. He didn’t. He felt even worse.
He stayed that way, leaning heavily against the wall, for a long time. Finally, he made himself move to the window. He stood off to the side, where he was certain she wouldn’t be able to see him. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her like all along, she’d been meant to show up. Like she’d been the part of himself that he was missing.
That’s as fucked up as all the rest. She is certainly not here for me. She doesn’t belong here anymore than I belong anywhere else.
Even though he instructed her to take what she wanted, and he’d seen that she loved everything she gently touched or gazed tenderly at, she left the barn with only one box. What was in it, he could only imagine. There was so much stuff in the barn, stuff that had existed long before him and would exist long after.
He watched as Laney climbed back into the pickup. She stared off in the direction of the house for a moment before she started it. She backed the trailer up like an expert and then she was gone. He watched until her trailer disappeared down the road. Then he watched until the cloud of dust settled.
Hector didn’t want to, but he found himself walking back outside, back to the barn. He needed to face whatever the hell happened to him out there. The dried salt on his cheeks and the sore, swollen feeling of his eyes reminded him that he’d cried. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried let alone wept. Never?
That cry, with Laney’s sweet arms wrapped around him, her tiny little body pressed against his, the indomitable strength of her spirit holding him up, had done something that he couldn’t quite call healing, but it was close.
There was still a massive hole in his heart. One he hadn’t truly been able or ready to acknowledge before.
He did a quick scan of the barn, but he still wasn’t sure which box Laney took. Or why she’d picked it. He wanted to know what was inside. What had caught her eye?
Because his frayed nerves couldn’t take standing there a second longer, Hector turned. He needed something to eat. Maybe that would fix everything. Doubtful. His eye chanced on one of the dressers. There was something new there, something that hadn’t been there before. A white square.
Intrigued, he stepped closer. He picked up the small piece of white cardboard. There was a little purple flower on the top and below that, her name, Laney McLean. Her number and email were below that, in little purple type. Hector carefully turned the card over. He felt like he was soiling it just by touching it.
In flowing script, neat tiny letters with little rounded swirls, Laney had written: in case you decide to sell I still want to buy.
With measure care, more care than he’d taken for anything in a long time, Hector slipped the card into his pocket.
CHAPTER 5
Laney
After years and years of picks, there wasn’t much that rattled Laney. She was often excited by discoveries and new finds, but she wasn’t unnerved or upset. Not the way she was after she left Hector’s farm.
Two days later, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She felt, irrationally, like it was her duty to protect him. For the first time in her life, she didn’t spill all the strange, wild details of her time there with Rayvn and Charlotte. They were curious, of course, as to why she came back with an empty trailer, but they were also well aware that sometimes people decided not to sell. They’d come home with empty trucks more times than they could count. They didn’t question her further.
She almost wished they had. Laney was also used to shit going south. She hadn’t met a good guy in years. Or at least when she did, it all went down the tubes in record time. But when it did, she always had Rayvn or Charlotte to lend a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. It was different, keeping everything bottled up inside. She hated it. She couldn’t concentrate on anything. She couldn’t erase Hector from her mind. The pain in his eyes haunted her.
It’s because I’m too sensitive. I want to save everyone.
After the way she’d arrived and the way she left and everything that happened between them, she didn’t think there was any chance she’d ever hear from him again, so she was quite shocked when her cell went off.
She was putting a top coat of wax onto a buffet she’d pained in red for a client. The damn thing had taken far too long, far too many coats and far too much wax. She felt like she was covered from head to toe in the stuff. Her hands were caked with multiple layers of wax. Because she didn’t want to miss a client’s call and she didn’t recognize the number, Laney hit the answer button on her phone and flipped on the speaker.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed in the enclosed space.
They’d moved to a bigger building, an old warehouse converted into retail, and now had a few rooms designated just for refinishing. They were complete with central air and good venting, something that had been missing in their last space. The rooms were so big they were almost hollow sounding even when they were full of furniture.
“Hello… uh- is this- may I speak with Laney McLean please?”
She recognized the deep voice the second Hector spoke. She cast a glance at Charlotte, who was working on her own piece, an antique dresser, before she scrambled to grab up the phone. She turned the speaker off and held it to her ear, uncaring how much wax she got all over the thing. Charlotte didn’t even turn around.
“Uh… hey. Yes. This is Laney.” She winced, realizing how flustered she sounded. Flustered, but hopefully not desperate.
“Laney- I- this is Hector Erwin.”
She gripped the phone so tightly it nearly slipped from her hand when it came into contact with the wax. She slowly relaxed her grip. Finally. His last name. It shouldn’t have felt so monumental, learning that one single word. But it did. Her heart did a stupid little tip-tap in her chest. He’s a mess. Do not get involved. I’ve had enough of that for an entire lifetime.
“I… I just- wanted to call and tell you that- I wanted to apologize.” He cleared his throat loudly. “I- I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. My grandmother just passed. I hadn’t slept or eaten enough. I think that my blood sugar was off. I’ve never- uh- well, I’m sorry. I don’t normally break down in front of people. I made it extremely awkward for you. I also said harsh things to you that weren’t in line. I was the one who asked you to come. You were just trying to buy furniture.”
“Oh… I- uh-” She hadn’t expected an apology and it left her speechless. It was her turn to clear her throat. “It’s alright. No need to apologize. Really.”
“There is. I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Again?”
“I was wondering- well, I found your card and I wanted to know if you were still interested in buying a few things. Despite my performance the other day, I really do want to clean out the barn. I have to put the house up for sale and I think it would be better if the entire structure was gone.”
“Oh. I’m- I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
That you have to sell the place. That you’re hurting. No. Do not say that. Do not fucking say anything close to that. “I just- for your loss. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
She wanted to say that it wasn’t, but for her, it was. She really did feel for him. The tightening in her chest and the pain in her stomach told her that it was more than compassion. She couldn’t call it empathy since she couldn’t remember losing a loved one. Her grandparents had passed before she was born and since then, no one close to her had died. There were rela
tions she didn’t know who had passed, but no one who was truly a part of her life.
“I… would you like to come back for those pieces? I am ready to sell, and I would like them to go to you. If you’re still interested. If not, I understand.”
“No- I mean, yes. Yes, I’m still interested.” Laney’s voice was so off that Charlotte turned to look at her funny. Laney spun around before her friend could read anything on her face. “I could come tomorrow. I have the afternoon free. Does three work for you?”
“Yes. Three is fine. Thank you for coming so soon. I appreciate it.”
“No, really, I appreciate you calling me back. Some of the pieces you had were beautiful. Some of the best I’ve seen in a long time. I would love to give them a good home. And they would have- they would have a good home. I promise.” She felt instantly stupid and the painful blush that always accompanied her embarrassment heated up her face.
“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”
“I… okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Perfect. Goodbye Laney.”
The line went dead. Even after she knew he was gone, her hand remained wrapped around her phone.
“Who was that?”
Laney nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled to find Charlotte standing right behind her, an expectant look in her eyes.
“Oh. No one. I- do you remember that guy a few days ago? The pick you guys made me go on since you were busy with date night?”
“Of course.” Charlotte grinned. “How could I forget. Ben and I had an excellent night.”
“Shut up,” Laney laughed. “I drove all that way out of the city and then he wouldn’t sell? I left my card just in case. You know, like I always do. He called me back and said he’s changed his mind. He wants to sell his farm and I think that a realtor must have told him the barn was an eyesore and needed to be torn down. The thing was full though. Massively full. I think he’s come to terms with the fact that he needs to get rid of it. I’m going to go tomorrow and get some of it.”
