“Honestly, this may be an improvement,” I said. “They had too much optimism.”
Zane crouched beside the bed, far enough away to be appropriate and close enough that I felt the distance in every nerve under my skin.
“You’re doing fine,” he said.
The simple praise hit harder than it should’ve. My throat tightened before I could stop it.
I busied myself with drinking water. “You sound surprised.”
“I saw the shoes.”
“Fair.”
“And the blouse.”
“It’s breathable.”
“It’s white.”
“It used to be.”
His eyes dropped briefly to the dirt smudged across my front, then lifted again fast. He was careful about it, and that carefulness made the moment hotter, which felt deeply unfair.
“I’ve had people show up in worse,” he said.
“Really?”
“One guy wore flip-flops.”
“What happened to him?”
“He met a thistle.”
I winced. “Did he survive?”
“Physically.”
I laughed, then drank more water because laughing with Zane this close made my chest feel crowded.
Birdie appeared at the end of the bed with a bundle of twine. “Zane, I’m moving the extra tomato ties to the shed. Gus found another split cage.”
“Thanks.” He stood. “I’ll grab wire after I check Tyler’s trench.”
Tyler’s head snapped up from the far row. “It’s supposed to be a trench?”
Zane turned.
Tyler looked down. “That explains things.”
Gus muttered, “Boy’s digging a decorative ditch.”
“I heard that,” Tyler said.
“You were meant to.”
Birdie winked at me. “See? Community.”
“I’m learning so much.”
