by Fiona West
“This is silly, really,” she huffed, leaning into the massage. “It’s not like he even went to the hospital . . .”
Uh-oh. She’d said the h word. That word had feelings attached, dragging them along like a ball and chain behind them. She pursed her lips as the tears sprung to her eyes.
“Would you be more upset if he’d gone to the hospital?”
“Of course,” she said, trying to act like she had something in her eye.
“Why?”
“Because last time he . . .” Kyle. Curse him; he’d done this to her. Made her cry in public. Made her relive one of the worst days of her life. She let out a shaky breath, the tears unstoppable now. “Because last time he was in the hospital, they said he might not survive another episode like that. They said his heart is weak.”
“Mmm.” Kyle kept rubbing her shoulders as she recounted that awful day. The text message she’d gotten during her microeconomics class: Come home. Dad collapsed. How she’d never broken as many traffic laws as she did that day. How they’d taken turns staying the night on the lounge-chair-turned-bed in his room, making sure he was okay.
“It’s just that he’s my dad, you know? I grew up thinking my dad was the strongest man in the universe, only to find out . . .”
“He’s just a man?” Kyle turned her gently and wrapped her in his arms.
She nodded, and her sorrow broke like a flood. She pressed her face into his neck to muffle the sound but made no attempt to hug him back, instead curling herself into his chest, letting him stroke her hair, rub her back until her sadness was just a trickle, a running nose, and a hiccup.
He tried to pull back to see her face, but she covered it with both hands.
“No, I’m a mess. Don’t look at me.”
Kyle pulled her hands away, his face serious. “Grief is not ugly, Ainsley.”
“I’m not grieving, I’m just . . . sad.”
“Is there a difference? You miss the dad you used to have, the carefree one who could delay his lunch an hour without consequences. You miss being the daughter instead of the caretaker. You miss baking for him, spoiling him. Sounds like grief to me.”
“Why are you doing this?” Ainsley whispered, looping her arms around Kyle’s neck to pull him tighter to her. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you needed it. And I was worried if I took you to your apartment, you wouldn’t let me inside. I didn’t want you to push me away. You need me now.”
She looked around. “I think this is the bridge we made the T-shirts for.”
“It is,” he confirmed.
“Is it safe to stand here?”
“Yes, their complaint was that it’s not safe for vehicles. I checked.”
“Of course you did.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I can’t take you to a bridge that might be structurally unsound. That’s irresponsible.” He kissed her temple. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
She let out a shaky sigh and let him lead her back to the car. He opened her door and helped her inside. Ainsley scooted over to the middle seat so they were shoulder to shoulder and couldn’t help but notice that he seemed pleased. They were driving up Franklin when he slammed on the brakes. She threw out her hands instinctively, protecting her face from smashing into the dash, but Kyle had his seat belt off and was out of the car before she knew what was happening.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled. He disappeared as he knelt down in the street, and Ainsley craned her neck to see what was going on. Kyle stood up, holding an orange-and-white striped kitten in his arms. He held it up so they were nose to nose, still raising his voice sternly. “Orangesicle, this is a terrible place to take a nap. Cooper’s been worried sick about you. You’re coming home with me.” As he marched back to the driver’s side door, Ainsley felt like a rabbit who only realizes too late that the cage with the nice carrots inside isn’t a coincidence. She didn’t just like this strange, grumpy man who practically set off the airbags to retrieve his nephew’s kitten. She loved him. At some point, she’d signed her heart over to him. Though she had no idea how to get it back, she didn’t think she wanted to; if he cared for it half as well as he cared for kittens and his patients, she’d be just fine. He passed the frightened creature to Ainsley, who snuggled against her chest.
“Don’t yell at her, babe, you’re scaring her.”
“She’s being reckless. She could’ve been killed. We’ll stop by my brother’s and take her home first, okay?”
Ainsley nodded. She’d not only caught feelings, she was downright infected with them. They were taking over her whole system. She stayed in the car when he ran in with the cat, who was greeted with more chiding at the front door by Claire, then Cooper’s delighted yells. It took her brain back to his midmorning breakdown over the matter, and how her maternal yearnings had been stoked by the event. Having now witnessed Kyle’s stern cat-parenting techniques, her curiosity was piqued.
Kyle got back in the car and began to back out of the driveway, still muttering under his breath.
“Do you want kids?” she asked.
“Two. A boy and a girl.” Of course he’d thought it through. It was difficult to imagine a subject he hadn’t already pondered. She couldn’t help but tease him.
“What if you have two boys?”
“Then I’ll be disappointed forever.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a girl.”
“I’d still love the kid, I’d just be disappointed in general.”
“That seems like a theme for you.”
He snorted. He was quiet for a moment, then he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles for a long moment, then put her hand on his leg so he could shift. She warred between resentment and tenderness at the gesture. He was often doing that: finding little ways to connect them physically when they were alone. But he hadn’t so much as high-fived her at the town meeting, he’d barely looked in her direction and ignored the seat she’d saved him, but now he wanted that touch? Is he hiding us? He took us to a park out of town when I was upset. He comes to the build in Stayton. He went to the beach with us, out of town. He took me to ice cream in Salem. Does he not want people in Timber Falls to know we’re together? He pulled up in front of her building.
“Want to come in for a minute?” she asked, trying to act more casual than she felt.
“I can’t, I have to get home.” He sounded tired; it was probably true, but her mind, poisoned by her fears, took it in another direction. Now he doesn’t even want to be alone with me, either? It was happening again. It was just like with Shane: she’d shown up to cheer him on, thinking she knew where they stood, but then the ground shifted suddenly under her feet. Embarrassment burned her cheeks, and she couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.
“Okay. Bye.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Right.”
He didn’t pull out of the parking spot until she got inside. She shook out her hair, giving it a break, and rolled her shoulders. All this tension was getting to her. She’d just gotten into her pajamas when a text came through.
Kyle: and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
Ainsley smiled as she completed the couplet, the small reassurance of his feelings calming her like a hug.
Ainsley: i carry your heart(I carry it in my heart)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THURSDAY MORNING, KYLE woke up early. He’d put in too many hours this week, helping the resident group, and he was out of time, legally, to be able to work. He lay in bed, looking at the ceiling for about ten seconds before he decided to forget about sleep. Tonight, he had to help Ainsley set up for the fall festival, but he wanted to see her before then. He shot off a text to her.
Kyle: You up?
Ainsley: Yeah.
He smiled. She wasn’t exactly a morning person.
Kyle: Want to go for a run?
Ainsley: Can’t. Too tired. Stayed up late baking.
Kyle: Why?
Ainsley: I promised Starla I’d bring cupcakes for the bake sale.
Kyle: So why didn’t you do them earlier in the day?
Ainsley: Because I had other responsibilities earlier in the day.
Kyle: You’re overcommitted.
Kyle: What are you trying to prove?
She didn’t respond. That was strange. Kyle stretched and scratched his belly for a minute, then decided to go empty his bladder. She’d probably have responded when he came back.
Huh. Still nothing. Well, he could still go running without her; he changed into his nylon shorts and a sweatshirt. He was admittedly confused about why she’d abruptly stopped their conversation as he thundered down the stairs.
He started toward the kitchen in search of coffee, only to find Daniel and his fiancée at the center of a mild chaos of boxes. Brown cardboard boxes, liquor store boxes. Moving boxes. He froze. This isn’t supposed to happen yet. His heart started beating hard, thumps he could hear in his ears and feel behind his eyes.
“What’s going on?”
Daniel and Winnie both looked up sharply, guilt painting his brother’s face.
“I thought you were at work.”
“Well, I’m not. So what’s going on, what are you doing?”
“We’re just gathering up a few things in case our offer gets accepted . . .”
“Gathering? You’re not gathering, you’re packing,” he accused. When Daniel said nothing, Kyle decided to lob another cannonball across his bow. “You don’t even have a place to live yet. Why are you wasting time packing?”
“Take a deep breath, man,” Daniel said, putting down the wide, clear tape he was holding, coming over to where Kyle stood.
“You said you were staying until you got married.” Kyle stepped back so he couldn’t touch him.
“I am,” he said, holding up his hands in a show of innocence. “I’m staying until January. Okay? I promise. I won’t move out until January.”
“I’m depending on that income. And your lease dictates that you have to give a month’s notice. It’s only October now.”
“I realize that . . .” Daniel was fidgeting, Kyle noticed. He’d made him uncomfortable. He felt momentarily sorry for yelling at him, until his brother spoke again, softly. “It’s gonna be okay, Kyle.”
“Don’t talk to me like a child!” he snapped. “I don’t even want you here, okay? I was doing you a favor by letting you stay, not the other way around. I’m happier by myself. Leave whenever the hell you want. And take your stupid mess with you!”
Kyle stormed out the front door, grabbing his running shoes on the way, ignoring his brother calling his name behind him.
AINSLEY WAS POURING coffee into her travel mug when a knock at her door startled her badly enough to give herself third-degree burns. Who on earth could that be? she wondered, trying to wipe the coffee off her blouse. Hoping it wasn’t Starla with a marriage trouble emergency, she wandered over to the peephole and peeked through. It was Kyle; his hair was damp and adorably mussed, and he was breathing hard. She opened the door, but the smile she ordered her face to produce didn’t arrive in time.
“What are you doing here?” Things had been a bit weird between them since last weekend. He stepped forward and kissed her. It helped a little, like when moms kiss a kid’s skinned knee. But the wound was still there.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she said, softening. “Kyle, what are you doing here? I need to go to work.”
“Just checking in.”
She picked up her heavy bag with a sigh. “And you didn’t think to call?”
“No, I left my house unexpectedly without my phone.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “I’ll pick you up at five thirty tonight, okay?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I have to . . . I’ll take my own car.” Man, this was going to be tricky. She just couldn’t handle going together tonight; she had too much going on . . . inside and out. “I have stuff to drop off.” She gestured to the two big boxes of food and paper plates and cups and plastic utensils.
“Okay.” He paused. “But I’ll see you there, right? We’re going to sit together at dinner?”
“Uh . . .” She needed to stall for time. “I don’t know, babe, it’s gonna be really busy. I’ll try, okay?” She swiped a thumb over the corner of her mouth, and his eyes narrowed.
“You’re not going to sit with me?”
“What?” she scoffed, turning so he couldn’t see her face. “I just said I’d try.”
“Ainsley.” He circled her slowly to see her better; it was not helping her trapped feeling. “Do you want to sit with me?”
“Yes,” she said, enunciating for emphasis, feeling her panic rise. “Of course I do.”
“Then why did you just lie to me?” He straightened. “I know your tells.”
“I saved you a seat at the town meeting, but you didn’t sit with me,” she pointed out.
“You sat right in front! I didn’t want the speakers blasting my eardrums!”
She sighed. “Can we talk about this later?”
“No. Why don’t you want to sit with me?”
How could she begin to explain it to him? Daniel wouldn’t be there tonight to cast reasonable doubt on why she was sitting with Kyle Durand. He was already gone when the town rumor mill crushed her last time, pulverized her like grain into flour over what happened with Shane. Daniel had never tuned in to such things, so he probably never told his brother because he didn’t know himself.
Kyle sucked his teeth. “Fine.” He stepped forward and picked up both boxes. “Can you get the door?” he grunted, avoiding her gaze. Silently, she opened the door and let him go first, edging by him on the landing when he stopped to make sure she was behind him. She opened the trunk.
“Kyle . . .”
“I’ll see you later,” he said, starting off at a jog.
She did see him later . . . between the columns outside the gym as he helped Mrs. Miller with a crate of apples. Getting up on a ladder to help hang orange and black crepe paper streamers. Sticking to the edges, and yet somehow in the midst of it all. And at the thank-you dinner for all those who’d come to help set up, he pulled out a chair for his mom and sat down next to her, pointedly avoiding Ainsley’s tortured gaze. Guess I deserve that. At least he’s not sitting with Jennie. In her head, she reminded herself that she’d never seen him show more than polite interest in any other woman in town since he moved back . . . but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have bothered her.
She’d been pondering his question all day . . . what was she trying to prove? It wasn’t that she found it hard to say no, exactly; she liked being busy. But she did wonder if the busyness wasn’t covering for something else, some deeper need that she didn’t want to examine. Ignoring her personal trauma had worked quite well for a long time. Hadn’t it?
If you want him, come and claim him. Arwen’s immortal words, said to her enemies, somehow still rang true. He was hers for the taking, by all outward appearances . . . but hadn’t Shane been, too? It wasn’t that she needed to hear an “I love you” before they could go to town functions together, but . . . how could she know he was serious? He ate his ham and potatoes and salad, mostly ignoring the people around him, and never looked at her once. She knew because she stared at him all night.
How he knew when she was ready to leave, then, was unclear. But when she came back from the bathroom, he was gone, and when she got to her truck in the corner of the dark parking lot, he was leaning against it, thumbs in his belt loops, head down, eyes trained on the asphalt.
“Going home?”
She nodded.
“Text me when you get there?”
She laughed a little. “What’s going to happen in Timber Falls between the school and my apartment?”
“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious. Just like it doesn’t hurt to park under a streetlight when you kn
ow you’ll be coming out to the parking lot alone in the dark.” He gave her a pointed look, and she rolled her eyes.
“Yes,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist, “but I’m not alone, am I?” He let his arms drop to her waist, too, and she turned her head to lay it against his chest, listening to his heart, silently willing him to understand her motivations over the last few weeks without having to explain herself . . . even though she knew it was impossible. He held her for a few minutes, then kissed the top of her head and pulled away from her.
“Just text when you get home, please. See you at pickup.” The coldness of his words didn’t match his body’s warmth and welcome whatsoever, and Ainsley tried not to let it sting, but she found herself rubbing her chest to ease the ache there.
“Kyle?”
He was already across the parking lot, spinning his keys on his fingers, vanishing into the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SHARP POUNDING ON HER door startled her. She finished tying her shoe, then went to peek through the peephole. It was Kyle. His hair stood on end like he’d been plowing his fingers through it all night. Based on how he was glowering at her door, too little sleep had apparently not helped his disposition. She was not ready to talk to Grumpy Kyle yet. She tiptoed away from the door as quietly as she could. Just as she reached the kitchen, her cell started to ring: “Po-tay-toes! Po-tay-toes! Po-tay-toes!” yelled Sam Gamgee, and she cursed herself for her whimsical sense of humor.
“Ainsley Buchanan, I know you’re in there! No one else has that goofy hobbit ringtone. Open the damn door.”
He was still holding his phone to his ear when she whipped the door open.
“Pipe down, will you? I’ve got neighbors, for heaven’s sake!” She whisper-yelled, pulling him inside by his T-shirt.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to wake your neighbors,” he snarled.
“What is your problem?”
He threw out his arms. “My problem is that you’re avoiding me! And I have no idea why!”
