She could have been in there when the back wall went.
The thought made my chest tighten.
She was in there, and I was at Ethel's eating a Danish and arguing about beef jerky. She was saving horses, and we were poking fun.
Three months.
I'd been telling myself for three months since April. Timelines kept me sane, and having a plan was essential. As a man who had lived by deadlines and missions, I didn’t know any other way.Three months and then I figure out what's next.
But, after today, I realized three months wasn't the point. It had never been.
The point was that she'd gone into a burning barn five times, and the thought of a world where she didn't come out had me double-guessing everything I thought I knew.
Three months wasn't long enough. Three years wasn't long enough.
I didn't know whatenoughactually looked like. But I knew what it wasn't. It wasn't July, and it wasn't temporary.
I looked at the farmhouse. The light was on in the kitchen. Melodie's car was in the driveway. She'd come back with Falon. I thought about going in, but what was I going to say? If I were alone with her, I’d pull her into my arms and tell her to never scare me like that again, but not now. Right now, she needed her mom. I would be here when her mom went home. And I would.
Mason had left a bit ago, leaving me on the porch deciding what to do. I walk around to the guest house. I take a shower, then go out to the chickens. The animals calm me.
The morning still smelled like smoke. Frank was on his fence post, watching me cross the yard with a judgmental look. I never could tell if he liked me.
"I know," I tell him.
He crows anyway.
Chapter 10
Kevin Presses the Label
Falon
Missy's left front shoe has been picking up stones all week, so I'm already out at the fence by seven, running my hand down her leg and checking the frog before the day gets away from me. Atlas is supposed to be helping, or at least learning to. He's mostly just pressing his nose into the back of my knee while I work, which is less useful than it sounds.
"You have one job," I tell him.
He wags his nub.
I get the stone out, check the shoe is still seated right, and put Missy back in the pasture. Atlas immediately pivots to investigate the chicken run.
"Don't." I eye him. He thinks about it for a second, then does it anyway, which means that was fifteen minutes of my morning that I wasn't ever getting back.
Bo is looking at my list with narrowed eyes.
I've done two things on the list before Bo even finds the coffee. So I don’t know what he’s narrowing his eyes over.
"This isn't in order," he says, shaking his head and grabbing a pencil.
Ah, now I understand. "Yes, huh. It's inmyorder."
"Your order is garden center, diner, hardware store, grocery." He holds the paper up as evidence. "That's four stops going east, then doubling back west, then east again."
"I know where everything is, Bo. I grew up here, or did you forget?"
"So did I. That's how I know this is inefficient."
I take the list back before he can write on it. "Thank you for your input."
