"Then, yes, sunshine. Idohave to help you," he says simply.
Silence fills the tense air between us, and I try my best not to flinch away from his stare. But his eyes don't waver and neither do mine.Say something.
But the words don’t come, and before I know it, Dylan is stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door with a soft thud. I step toward it, lifting my hand to maybe open it and follow him and insist he talk to me. I want him to explain what I did wrong and why he won’t speak to me anymore. But in the end, I just take a breath and step back.What’s the use? He won’t talk to me anyway…
Dylan
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and it’s not long before the heavens open up, making my heart feel heavier as I stand in my kitchen staring at the thriving sunflower Millie left on my doorstep all those weeks ago. Each day it seems to get stronger and prouder, much like the woman who occupies my mind most of the time. Millie is much like the flowers she’s come to love and base her career around. She claims it’s because they look happy and make people smile. But I think it’s because they’re strong and resilient, always looking to the light no matter how dark the day—which is why I callhersunshine. Simply because she is the light inmydark days.
Adding a shot of whiskey to my mug of coffee, I lift it to my mouth and sip it slowly. The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat and I savor the feeling.
But it doesn't make my feelings forhergo away.
After weeks of seeing her daily, it’s becoming too clear to me that I’m starting to hurt her with my incessant bad temper and grouchy attitude. But I can’t seem to make myself stop going to her—especially since I know she’ll try to undertake those renovations on her own—and I also can’t shift my attitude and treat her with gentle care and kindness the way I truly want to. If I do that, she’ll let me in. And once I’m in, I’m never gonna want to walk away. Even though there’ll be a point where she really wants me to…
I know I’m an asshole for continuing any of this.
Leaning against my kitchen counter, I take a long drag of my boozy coffee, then adjust the bandage on my forearm that covers the gash I earned when I fell today. Even though it hurts like a bitch, I still smile when I look at it, remembering the why I fell when I did.
I told Millie that a beam collapsed under my weight when she found me in the cabin. But that information was only half the truth. Yes, the beam collapsed. But the real reason it happened was because I was too busy spying on her to notice signs of rot that would have warned me not to place my weight where I did. Through the small windows on her camper van, I could both hear and see her while she sang at the top of her lungs and shook her curvy ass to the tune of whatever the hell she was listening to. It wasn’t a song that I recognized, but I certainly enjoyed the performance, trying to creep a little closer to get myself a better view. Karma obviously thought that made me a peeping Tom and send me barreling toward the ground instead, and maybe I did deserve that, but still, I wish I could’ve watched her paint, sing, and dance for just a little longer. I love the moments when she feels totally free.
Draining the contents of my mug, I turn toward the sink and wash it clean, placing it in the strainer before leaning closer to the window to gauge the amount of rain now falling. It’s coming in a torrent that’s carving tiny rivers into the dirt ground, and thinking about Millie in her tiny metal camper causes my heart to fill with worry. What if a flash flood sweeps through—or a mudslide—and carries my sweet girl away?
My…
I’ve gotta stop doing that. She’s notmyanything. Well, except for beingmyneighbor. Other than that, she’s just Millie. And I really need to fix my head and stop dreaming of it being any different.
A flash of lightning cracks through the sky, the thunder following almost immediately as the rain falls even harder.Stay where you are. She’s fine.
I pace the small kitchen, trying to convince myself that’s true. But something in my gut is telling me to go out there and check on her. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I can play it off as me making sure my hard work isn’t getting ruined by the storm.Perfect.
Grabbing my coat and keys, I go and jump into my truck, heading toward Millie’s place as I face as I visibly can in the storm. Her driveway is a mud pit, so I park on the side of the road, jump out of my truck with my coat pulled over my head as I make a beeline for her trailer. There are no lights on inside.
"Millie!" I call through the pouring rain, getting drenched to the bone as my coat does little to protect me in the torrents of water. “Millie!”
When she doesn’t respond, I bang on her camper door, shifting to the side and cupping my hands against her window to try and see inside to make sure she’s OK. “Are you in there?”
“Go away!” she calls back.
Shit. She’s probably still pissed at me for the slight altercation we had over me not letting her help with my arm.
"Millie. Please. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine. You can go.”
“Then why isn’t your electric on?”
“Just go. I don’t want you to worry about me anymore.”
Dropping my forehead against the door, I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, OK?”
“For what?”
“For everything. I keep lashing out at you, and none of this is your fault. I’m just…I’m messed up, and I… I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“How to live without you when I want you so much it hurts.”
