by Zoe Chant
She tossed and turned, bothered by every little sound and restless thought. She used every technique in her toolbox, and sleep eluded her.
Finally, eyes gritty from her terrible night, she got up at sunrise and staggered down the stairs to make coffee as strong as the industrial pot could manage.
She was still adding grounds when there was a knock on the door.
She ignored it, even though she knew who it was.
Devon, bless his ridiculously sweet soul, wasn’t going to barge in on her.
He knocked again, louder, like he thought maybe she was upstairs with her door shut.
Jamie sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to ignore him. “Come in!” she called.
To her surprise, Devon was dressed in sweatpants and a light sweater, and he was jogging in place.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, realizing that she sounded cross, when really she was just stupidly happy to see him.
“Taking you jogging,” Devon said merrily.
“Uuuuuunnnnnggggghhhhhh…” Jamie replied. “I haven’t had coffee yet.”
“We’ll reward ourselves with coffee at Shaun’s afterwards,” Devon said. “C’mon.”
“It’s cold out there,” Jamie whined, but she was smiling despite herself.
“You have to start running to warm up,” Devon teased her, throwing her hat and gloves at her.
“What’s this really about?” Jamie wanted to know, as she shut the door behind her.
“I just want to talk,” Devon said seriously.
“Talk?” Jamie laughed. “We could talk in my room, where it’s warm. Maybe check a few new things off your list.”
Devon cast her a sideways look, grinned, and broke into a ground-eating jog that Jamie had to scramble to catch up with.
He led the way, this time, winding past Gran’s, and through the central park. He even swung across on the monkey bars, holding his feet up so they didn’t drag in the gravel. Jamie followed, and was panting by the time they passed the library. “Where are we going?” she demanded. At least she wasn’t cold now. She was getting hungry.
And watching Devon jog so gracefully, all easy strength and loping stride, made her hungry in all kinds of different ways.
Jame scowled at her feet, hitting the sidewalks in a steady pace.
He led her back, in a weird, meandering path through town, past Shaun’s tempting-smelling bakery, and finally out to the park at the edge of town where she’d caught Andrea after whatever kind of adventure left someone naked with a sprained shoulder.
They stopped at the head of the trail, and Jamie dropped into a stretch before she could cool down and cramp. They had a view back out over Green Valley, looking picturesque and cozy under the heavy veil of gray clouds that was threatening snow or rain.
The little houses had wisps of smoke from their chimneys, and Jamie could hear the sounds of the people getting up and starting their boring morning rituals. A dog was barking, somewhere, and there was a clatter of someone collecting bottles.
“You don’t hate this town,” Devon said at last.
“What?”
“This town,” Devon repeated. “You don’t hate it.”
Jamie sputtered in protest, but Devon went on. “You love it. I can tell by the way that you show it to me, and the way you remember all the little details about everything. You like to say that you hate it, because that gives you a reason to run away from it.”
Jamie found something very interesting to look at on her sneakers.
She didn’t want to think about the truth in Devon’s statement. She didn’t want to think at all. “C’mon, slowpoke,” she said, falsely bright. “You’re not tired yet, are you?”
She led Devon up the trail to the clearing and he finally caught her arm and drew her to a stop.
“Tell me about your mom,” he insisted. “Tell me why you’re a firefighter.”
“It’s not like you think,” Jamie said quietly. “We didn’t have a big fight right before it happened or anything like that. I don’t carry a huge weight of guilt over it like Turner does.” She shrugged, feeling the emptiness of her protest. “It’s an easy way to make money. The wildfire fighting, I mean. Not so much the volunteer work in a dinky town. And I...owed Turner. That’s the only reason I’m here. To repay a debt.”
She could taste the lie, and it surprised her.
She’d truly convinced herself that she detested the little town, that she hated how small and nosy it was, that she would never willingly live in such a place, that she’d only done it for Turner.
But coming back...meeting Devon.
Green Valley wasn’t the enemy.
She didn’t hate the little town or the people who lived there.
She didn’t even hate her memories of it.
She only hated how vulnerable she felt here. Being vulnerable meant you could get hurt.
Except...being vulnerable also meant that other things could happen.
Better things.
It was starting to snow; big, fat flakes of white obscured the trees around them.
“Jamie,” Devon started. He stopped, and then restarted, clearly nervous. “Jamie, I’ve got some things to tell you…” For a moment, Jamie was absolutely sure that he was going to propose to her on the spot and she was actually surprised when he didn’t go down on one knee.
If Green Valley made her feel vulnerable, Devon, somehow, made her feel safe. It didn’t make sense, and Jamie didn’t trust things that didn’t make sense.
“I don’t plan ahead,” she cautioned. “I don’t commit. Everyone knows that I could hare off at any moment. I don’t have roots. I don’t want roots.”
Except that she did.
Her warning seemed to draw Devon up, and some part of her wanted to take it all back and hurtle herself into his arms. “Look,” she said desperately. “I like this. I like you. But I don’t want to hurt you.” She desperately didn’t want to hurt him.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Devon said, and Jamie was stunned by the faith in his voice.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that.”
Jamie squirmed, broken between her desire to admit that she was helplessly in love with this guy and her instinct to run and save him the later pain of realizing what a ridiculous loser she was behind the bold facade she’d built.
“I don’t want you to ask me about the future,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to make plans. What we’ve got is good, but it’s now, not forever.” More lies, she realized, because she’d managed to nail her heart to him, and when she left, it was going to rip out of her and stay behind.
“I have to tell you…”
“Don’t tell me,” Jamie said. “I don’t want to know. I only want this, just the way it is. That’s all it is. Now come on, I’m getting cold and I can smell Shaun’s cinnamon rolls from here.”
“You can?” Devon said piercingly, as if there was any possible way that she could.
“Come on,” she said, and she turned and broke into a run.
She told herself she wasn’t trying to get away from him. And somehow, everything was right again when he caught up with her.
15
A few days later, the bell at the door of Dean’s hardware store gave a welcome jangle and Devon threw Jamie a look that was pure gratitude.
“Hi, Jamie!” he called too loudly.
“Hey,” she replied, then with less enthusiasm. “Hi, Gillian.”
Gillian stopped making eyes at Devon, to his great relief, and finished her purchase of three one-inch screw-hooks. She paid with a credit card.
Jamie looked suspiciously after her. “Was she hitting on you?” she asked as the door shut behind the older woman.
Did she sound jealous? Devon wondered. “I don’t think she’s serious,” he said. “I hope not, anyway.” He gave a dramatic shudder.
“Good,” Jamie said firmly. “I don’t share.”
She sounded possessive, Devon
thought, and he didn’t dislike that at all.
“Quit grinning,” Jamie warned him, and he did his best to smother his smile.
“Can I help you find something?” he asked professionally.
“The crew truck needs a new timing belt,” Jamie said. “Dean said you’ve got some kind of ordering system set up?”
Devon woke up the computer by jiggling the mouse. “No problem. I wrote a subroutine that checks each of Dean’s suppliers and sorts them by price and availability. How soon do you need it?”
Jamie leaned on the counter to look at the screen. “It’s not an emergency.”
“Whole rebuild kit, or just the belt?”
“The kit.”
“Need any of the tools?”
“I’ve got all the tools I need,” Jamie said, the edges of her mouth quirking up.
“You know, it’s really hot that you know about tools,” Devon told her. He didn’t even try to stop grinning.
Jamie smirked at him. “It’s even hotter that I know what to do with them.”
Devon made a show of fanning himself and they both laughed.
“I had your job for a few years during high school,” Jamie explained. “Of course, it wasn’t Dean’s then, but I learned my way around a hardware store. I wasn’t a kiss-up like you, writing fancy new software for the computer, but I know my way around sorting some socket wrenches.”
“Talk dirty to me,” Devon said.
“I heard that Dean is going to be moving to Madison with Shelley so Dean can get a degree in engineering, and Shelley’s doing some fashion thing,” Jamie said, sobering. “What do you think will happen to the shop when they go?”
Devon shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it will close? It’s sad that Green Valley won’t have a hardware store, but I’m not too worried about myself. I’m getting enough programming work to cover the hours I’d lose.”
“As long as your waitressing tips are good,” Jamie teased him.
Devon laughed. “Maybe I should wear something more low-cut...” he suggested.
Jamie giggled and rifled through a display of flashlights on the counter and Devon watched her face, the sweep of her thick eyelashes, the sprinkle of her freckles. How could someone get under his skin so completely, so quickly? he wondered.
And was he under her skin the same way? Did she have an animal urging her towards him as well? She liked him, he was sure. Maybe more than liked. He tried to figure out a way to ask, opening his mouth to start, no matter how crazy it sounded, and then the door gave a less welcome alert.
“The timing belt will be here Tuesday,” he said swiftly.
“Here’s the station credit card,” Jamie said, her expression briefly puzzled. She turned to look at the door. “Hey, Dean, Aaron.”
“I’m hungry,” Aaron whined.
“Go get a granola bar from behind the counter,” Dean advised him, and Aaron scampered around and squeezed past Devon to reach into the box. “One granola bar,” Dean added. “How’s business?”
“Booming,” Devon joked. “Just sold a timing belt kit and three screw-hooks.”
Jamie signed her receipt and Devon logged out of the computer. “I’ll close up,” Dean told him absently, straightening a display. “See you at home!”
“Shaun’s is open for ten more minutes,” Jamie pointed out.
“Discount pastries, here I come,” Devon said eagerly, and he pulled on his coat and followed her swiftly out.
“How’s it going, staying with Dean?” Jamie asked, shivering and pulling the neck of her coat closed.
“Not bad,” Devon said. “Abby’s making dinner tonight.”
“Time for a quick stop at the station after Shaun’s?” Jamie suggested with a playful sideways glance.
Devon checked his watch. “Not quite,” he said with regret. Privacy was a hard-won prize recently. Between work, living with Dean and his family, and Abby, it seemed like every precious moment with Jamie was better spent on things that weren’t crazy-sounding confessions. Still… “Jamie, we really should talk.”
She shot him a suspicious look. “Not if it means missing out on cheap cinnamon rolls.”
Devon had to smile. “Priorities,” he teased her. But he frowned thoughtfully as he opened the door to Shaun’s bakery for her.
They raided the discount basket and Shaun locked the door behind them with a tolerant smile.
“We should talk...” Devon tried again, as they wandered down the sidewalk towards the residential neighborhood. For the moment, they were in a pocket of solitude, and he knew it wouldn’t last.
Jamie looked nervous, and in terrible timing, the phone in her pocket went off. She pulled it out to glance at the screen, then gave Devon a swift kiss on the cheek. “Duty calls,” she said regretfully, and she thrust her bag of pastries at Devon, turned and sprinted away.
His arms full of cinnamon rolls, Devon could only watch her go and remind his lynx that they had to be patient.
She wasn’t running away, he told himself. And that was something.
16
“Where are we going?” Jamie asked, glancing between Devon and Abby. She looked rumpled from sleep, her mousy hair wild around her face. It had snowed the night before, so the streets were white again.
Devon thought that she sounded exasperated, but intrigued. “Ice skating,” he said firmly, holding up the second-hand skates he’d found at Dean’s hardware store. He wasn’t sure why a hardware store carried ice skates, but the grocery store also carried shotguns, so maybe it was just a Green Valley thing. “The contractor my insurance company wanted to use had an opening today and I don’t want to be underfoot while they worked on the kitchen. I asked around, and apparently the appropriate small-town November activity is to go ice skating. We can stop at Dean’s and find you ice skates if you don’t have any.”
Abby, at his side, sullenly added, “He’s making me come, too.”
“You don’t get enough exercise!” Devon said reproachfully.
“It’s cold,” she complained. “My skates pinch.”
“Ten laps,” Devon bargained. “Ten laps and we can go to Shaun’s and have hot chocolate.”
“I’m in for the hot chocolate,” Jamie agreed. “And yeah, I’ll go skating, too. I haven’t been to Mueller’s Pond since I was in high school, it’ll be fun.”
They all piled into Devon’s awful car, Abby complaining bitterly about the lack of legroom in the back.
“You’re lucky I’m not still making you use a booster seat, baby sister,” Devon teased her back.
Abby kicked the back of his seat.
Dean had a pair of hockey skates in Jamie’s size, and they set off for the frozen pond.
They weren’t the only people from Green Valley to have the same idea; the ice was crowded with people. The pond had been cleared from end to end. Elderly couples were skating in sedate circles on one side, a wild and clearly free-for-all hockey game was being staged on the other. A handful of little kids were milling about in the middle. A golden-haired girl was bossing around a pair of boys, and Devon recognized one of them as Aaron, the other as Trevor, Shaun and Andrea’s little boy. The girl was Clara, and her dad, Lee, was helping to repair a warm-up shelter at the shore.
Aaron recognized Abby and immediately pointed her out to his friends. “She’s my babysitter! She’s a…!” He clearly reconsidered what he was going to say and huddled with Trevor, to Clara’s outrage.
“Hey! Hey!” she called after them, trying to make forward progress in skates that she was comically unsteady on. “I’m a princess! You’re supposed to be my knights!”
“Which side are we skating on?” Jamie asked dubiously, as they pulled on their skates. “You any good at this?”
“I have no idea,” Devon confessed cheerfully. “I’ve never been skating.”
Abby, to Devon’s approval, got her skates on and went to comfort Clara, who was clearly feeling left out by her friends. Abby swiftly coordinated a gentle chase-and-make-
believe game that the much-younger children kept adding complicated rules to.
“I’m a dragon!” Aaron declared. “A bear dragon that breathes plasma!”
“Dragons aren’t bears!” Trevor scoffed. “And you can’t breathe plasma.”
Abby declared that a bear dragon was a special exception, and that Clara could be the princess, and picked up Aaron when he fell on his face doing a dance of triumph.
Jamie pulled Devon out onto the ice with some words of advice. “Don’t hesitate. You’re never going to get in motion if you’re mincing around with little baby steps, and skating relies on speed. It’s like riding a bike, you can’t go too slow.”
Devon obediently followed her, and after a few false starts and a stumble or two, they were gliding circles around the sedately skating elders.
“You were totally lying!” Jamie told him, her cheeks bright and the hair from beneath her hat blowing wildly. “This can’t be your first time skating!”
She had to be a shifter, Devon thought. She was strong and fast and her balance was amazing. He’d never seen anything so graceful or confident as Jamie.
They nearly collided with Marta, skating alone, and Devon caught her before the gray-haired woman could tumble. They clung to each other for a moment, and Devon was afraid that she would fall when he let go.
“Sorry, Marta,” he said apologetically. Jamie had ricocheted off in the opposite direction, and when she saw that Devon had the woman well in hand, she darted off to do a circuit by herself, laughing.
“I’m fine,” Marta said with a sniff, though she didn’t let go of Devon. “I can see that the two of you don’t have eyes for anyone else who might be skating here.”
Devon blushed, and hoped Marta would think his color was just from the cold. She was the town’s biggest gossip, and he wondered what she’d heard. “Sorry,” he repeated.
Marta wasn’t fooled. “She’s a runner, isn’t she,” she observed.
“We do a lot of jogging,” Devon said, confused. Marta knew everything that happened in town. She must have seen them doing circuits around the town.
“That’s not what I meant,” Marta said wryly.
