“Ah, you win,” he said. “Those double vowels always get me.”
“Yeah,” I said softly.
The call was ending so fast. I knew I had made a big deal about the inconvenience of driving out here, but the thought of returning to that quiet all by myself threatened me with that same heavy feeling from this morning, wanting to keep me in place.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, sensing a shift in my tone.
I shook my head, eyes still closed, knowing he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know. Just emotional. I don’t know why.”
My dad waited a beat. “You’d think you’d had some sort of traumatic event happen or somethin’.”
I sniffled and pinched the area between my eyebrows, trying to stop an unwanted tear, to no avail. Dad’s gentle worry pushed me over the edge, and I quickly dashed away a tear. “Yeah. Howabout that.”
“You miss him?” my dad asked softly.
I thought for a minute; the truth blaring in my head. “A little.” But honestly, I think I missed having a plan. Maybe even more than him, but I wouldn’t ever admit that out loud. I felt unmoored and silly. I felt like a kid who was playing an adult. Shouldn’t someone almost thirty with a thriving career and purpose feel more certain about their wants? More established in their body? I needed a place to live. A plan for after this story. A quick look at homes in Colorado Springs made me realize I had no desire to return to that city. Nothing tied me to it since I worked my job remotely and traveled anyway. I never felt connected to it.
“You should give yourself time,” he said. “Get some ice cream and watch that movie that always makes you cry. Or maybe punch something.”
I chuckled. “Maybe.” I didn’t feel sad or angry—or maybe a little bit of both but mostly listless. Determined to finish that article and make my choices seem worth it.
“Why don’t you come home? When you finish the story.”
I opened my mouth to fight but found I didn’t want to. It sounded nice.
“Not forever,” he added. “You’ve always been so independent, but you know you always have a place here.”
“Yeah. Okay, that sounds good.”
“Yeah? Great, kiddo! I’ll clear out the old room. Just stay until you get back on your feet.”
I let out a sigh as he chatted on happily. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was a plan, and when I got there, I could think about where I wanted to live next. I couldn’t even imagine that right now. It felt like too much.
My eyes were still closed, and I was so focused on my dad’s voice that I didn’t hear anybody approaching until it was too late.
There was a knock on my window, and I screamed.
Chapter 9
Levi
This was beginningto feel like a pattern.
I stepped back from the window, constantly checking for traffic on the winding dirt road.
“Levi?” Claire asked in disbelief, hand to her chest as the other lowered the window.
“Who’s Levi? What’s going on?” a man’s thickly accented voice called through her dashboard.
“It’s okay, Dad. It’s just the landlord. The rentee?” She shook her head and settled on, “The guy who owns the cabin.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said. This part of the road had a sharp turn with very little visibility. Those who were used to driving on it often come whipping around these bends without slowing. “It’s not safe,” I said.
“Where are you?” her dad asked worriedly.
At the same time, she said, “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I said to her. Louder, I said, “I’m Levi Carmichael.”
