by Rye Hart
“Which means no one will find my car,” I said.
“I have a snowmobile, but all four of us aren’t going to fit on it,” he said.
“It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.” I turned to head back to the room to check in on Dad.
“Mel?” I heard him call my name softly.
I turned my head toward him and caught him staring at me. The look in his eyes told me that he might be fighting the same feelings I was. That both terrified and intrigued me.
“I wasn’t implying that you were a bother,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “I’ve just had a lot of changes in the past couple of years that I’m still adjusting to,” he said.
I nodded and offered him a smile. If anyone knew about adjusting, it was me. I continued down the hall and called my father.
The day wore on and I grew more comfortable as I watched Evan interact with the children. He laughed with them, played with them, and didn’t become immediately annoyed when they fussed. With each passing moment, he was becoming more and more attractive to me.
My dad still sounded good and assured me that he was eating. Luckily, I had just gone grocery shopping, and there was plenty of soup and lunchmeat to keep him fed until I could get home. He took his pills while on the phone with me again and told me he was going to take a nap.
Dinner had been served and cleared, and Evan was bathing the kids and getting them ready for bed as I cleaned up the kitchen. About half an hour later, he appeared from the hallway, looking exhausted.
“Man, those two wear me out,” he said.
I laughed and came to sit in front of the fire once again.
“Would you like a beer,” Evan offered as he threw another couple of logs into the fireplace.
“I’d love one, thank you,” I said.
He went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with two frosty bottles. I took a long pull of mine and closed my eyes, sighing.
He chuckled a bit, a sound that shook my knees and seemed to flip a switch within my gut.
“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” he asked.
I smiled and nodded. “It does,” I answered.
We sat in silence for a few minutes before I spoke again.
“It’s really beautiful out here,” I said.
“One of the reasons why I bought the place,” Evan said.
“Is this your permanent residence?”
“It is,” he said.
“Where were you living before that?” I asked.
“Los Angeles,” he said.
“That’s a very stark change,” I said. “Do you like it better here?”
“Oh, yes.”
It was the way he said it that caused me to turn my gaze toward him. He looked tired and haggard at the mere mention of the city, and I wanted to know what had happened. What had pushed him from a budding place like L.A. all the way to a cold and tiny place on the outskirts of Bozeman, Montana?
“Do you work?” I asked.
“Nope, not anymore,” he said, without further explanation. We sat there in relative silence as we both finished our beers. Our eyes were trained on the licking of the fire around the logs that were burning, though I was becoming more aware of how closely Evan had sat down next to me. He wasn’t at the far end of the couch anymore, but rather more toward the center of it.
I started wondering if he’d intentionally moved closer to me.
“Care for another?” he asked.
“Sure. I could go for one more,” I said.
I could feel my body loosening up a bit as the iron walls of my mind slowly came inching down. I snuggled deeper into the cushions but, as Evan sat even closer to me, my body went on high alert.
Part of me wanted to run, but another, larger, part of me wanted to lean into him.
“What did you do?” I asked. “When you were working, that is.”
“I.T.,” he said.
“Ah, so you’re a tech guy.”
“Of sorts,” he said, shrugging.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“A great deal, yes,” he said.
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to it?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?” I asked.
His eyes quickly flickered in my direction before he settled farther back into the couch with me.
“It’s just a part of my life that’s done,” he said. “Time to move forward.”
“I wish I was good at that.”
“What?”
“Moving forward,” I said.
His head slowly turned toward me and I could feel his gaze boring into the side of my face. I’d opened the door a crack and now I waited for him to want to peek inside.
“What keeps you from moving forward?” he asked.
I turned my gaze toward his and felt rooted to my seat by his eyes. I could see them more clearly now, and they were just beautiful. The dark brown was peppered with flecks of gold, lending a brightness to his face. My uneasiness was slowly beginning to dissipate.
“Well, right now? Those eyes of yours,” I said.
“My eyes?” he asked.
“They’re beautiful. And very intense. It’s hard to move beneath your gaze,” I said.
I brought my beer to my lips as I settled my sights back onto the fire. Whatever in the world had possessed me to say that to him? Though he had been nothing but hospitable to me the past two days, I still didn’t really know this man. Yet, I had just opened up to him more than I’d opened up to any guy in four damn years. Suddenly, I felt exposed.
“Well, thank you for the beers,” I said, breathlessly.
I stood up from the couch and felt Evan’s eyes follow my movements.
“I need to check in on my dad,” I said as Evan continued to sit silently studying me.
I set my beer on the coffee table and quickly made my way to the hallway. Once inside the bedroom, I closed and locked the door behind me and flopped down onto the bed. My emotions were at war inside me and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all.
The past four years of my life had been spent trying to forget, trying to move forward, but ultimately being stuck in one spot. Yes, I’d gone back and finished college. Yes, I’d kept up my friendships and I even occasionally went out. But when it had come to men and relationships, I’d closed that part of my life off.
I’d even convinced myself that I was fine with it. Something about Evan, though, was making me question my decision. Could I continue to live in fear? Did I want to? Did I want him to be the one to show me it was okay to trust again?
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and sighed deeply. One thing I did know, was that if I didn’t get out of this cabin soon, I was going to find out.
End of Sneak Peek. Would you like to know how this continues?
Click Here: Saving Mel
COPYRIGHT © 2018 RYE HART - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
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