“Do you just want to be friends?” I asked softly.
She shook her head slightly, her nose brushing against mine. “I don’t know what I want.”
“I can understand that. But you’ll let me know when you figure it out? And you won’t hide from me in the meantime?”
“I don’t want to hide from you, Ian.”
I felt her lips press against mine, stubborn and resolute, like an oath—a vow she was making to herself—and it gave me hope.
I stroked her cheek with my thumb and kissed her back, just as reverently—an answer to a question she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
Determined to give her space, I pulled back, my hand still cupping her jaw. There were so many things I needed to say, assurances I wanted to make. That, yes, our worlds were different, but we could make it work. That I had no idea what would happen when the film wrapped, but I knew I didn’t want to leave. That I’d take care of her heart, if she’d give me the chance.
But before I could gather the courage to put all of that into words, we heard someone yelling outside. An engine revved, and glass crunched.
Together, we moved to the window over the kitchen sink and peered out.
“That idiot,” she breathed.
We watched as a big, burly middle-aged man staggered out of his still-running vehicle in the distance. His headlights illuminated the messy yard as he hurled beer bottles out of the bed of his truck. The goat that had been huddled beside the tree bolted in fear, but only managed to get to the end of its rope, where it tugged and strained.
“Your neighbor?” I asked, wincing as a bottle shattered against the trunk of the tree.
Joan’s jaw clenched angrily as she nodded. “He’s a pain in the ass. A danger to himself and everyone else. Buck has been to jail, to rehab. Nothing ever sticks.”
“He does this a lot?”
“Often enough,” she sighed.
After a few minutes, the man managed to wear himself out. He stumbled over to turn his truck off and eventually made his way inside the mobile home, the door slamming in his wake.
I took in Joan’s rigid posture, the way she clutched the edge of the sink, her attention on the goat that was picking its way across the yard, nosing at the broken glass. I could imagine how every bit of her neighbor’s behavior likely wore on her. I’d be willing to bet she’d tried with him for a long time. That was just the kind of person she was.
Leaning against the counter, I crossed my arms and said casually, “So when are we rescuing that goat?”
Joan’s head whipped around. “You’re serious?”
“As a felony.”
Her attention strayed toward the window, where it remained for several long beats. Then she looked at me, determination steady in her gaze. “Okay.”
I grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Let’s do it tonight before all my brain cells come back online.”
I lifted my hand for a high five, and she obliged with a huff of strained laughter. “Hell yeah,” I exclaimed. “This is going to be great.”
fifteen
JOAN
In retrospect, it wasnotgreat.
Right off the bat, things went sideways.
Dressed in all black and—God help me—ski masks, we entered my neighbor’s backyard just after midnight. All the lights in the trailer were off, but that didn’t necessarily mean Buck was asleep for the night. We stayed quiet and moved quickly.
At our stealthy approach, the goat rose from where it was sitting. Luckily, it stayed quiet.
