She was right to stop me.
I kissed her. I started it, and I knew exactly what I was doing. Or at least I thought I did, right up until Rowdy nudged me forward, and about four years of waiting took over. Every careful bit of distance I'd been keeping disappeared in about two seconds.
I pulled back from something real, then realized Iwanted it like I wanted my own breath. I'd have to deal with Tyler when the day came, but right now, Falon was more important.
Rowdy shifts and puts his chin on my knee. I reach down in the dark and pat his head.
"I know," I tell him.
He exhales, long and slow. Like, even he's tired of the push-and-pull I've been doing.
By four in the morning, I give up on sleep entirely. I pull on jeans and a shirt, fill a glass of water, and sit on the front step of the guest house while the sky turns from black to that deep, washed-out gray as morning approaches. Rowdy sits beside me, shoulder pressed to my knee, and we watch the dark together.
The adrenaline from last night has been fading for hours. What's left underneath isn't clean or simple. It's a frustrating, PTSD kind of tired. It makes my palms itch. A quick run to tire out the mental demons should do it, right?
By the time the sky really starts to lighten, I’d run for an hour or so, and it has really taken it out of me, and Rowdy. Even after all that, the ache from last night is still lingering. So much for working her out of my system.
Monday meeting is already rolling when I walk into Ethel's just before seven.
Jake has everyone's attention with a story about a deer. Not just any deer. It’s a buck with, as Jake puts it, "a death wish."
"So this buck walked into my open garage on Saturday morning," Jake says, eyes wide. "I don't know why he's in there, but by the time I found him, he'd knocked over a whole shelf of motor oil and then stood in the middle of the mess, too scared to move.” He looks at us incredulously.
"So, I go out there," he continues, leaning forward, "andthis animal looks at me. Doesn't even run. Just looks at me, like I'm the one who walked into his garage."
Hector is already pounding the table. Mitch has his face in his hands.
"I'm standing there in my socks," Jake says, "holding a broom, and I genuinely did not know who was going to back down first."
"Who did?" Hector asks.
Jake picks up his coffee. "I'm not going to answer that."
The table erupts. We all know it was him.
I slide into the chair beside Sam. Rowdy moves under the table next to Molly. Lila appears with coffee and a Danish.
Sam glances at me once and nods.
Across the table, Jake is now demonstrating the broom stance. Hector is filming. Mitch has given up entirely.
Ethel has the patience of a saint to let them do that in here.
"You sleep?" Sam asks, quiet enough that it's just between us.
"Some."
He nods. Sets his coffee down. "Better than last week."
"A little."
After a while, I say, "Tyler flew out this morning."
Sam nods slowly. "Already on another flight?"
I turn the mug in my hands. "He doesn't know yet. About any of it."
"No."
