Page 31 of Plus-Size Bullied Mate

Unable to come up with an answer that doesn’t make me sound either defensive or pathetic, I say nothing. She goes back to her book, and I go back to the window to look out at the rocky cliffs and try to locate whatever patience I can.

I couldn’t care less about the trail or anything else we might find out in the woods. I just want some sort of bridge between us, and I want her to give me something to work with that might make all of this more bearable.

Dinner is the same, just as expected.

I cook because it gives me something to do and because she hasn’t moved toward the kitchen yet. Since one of us has to, I make something simple with rice, chicken, and some vegetables that were brought up before we came. It’s the kind of meal that doesn’t require much effort or commentary.

Tessa comes when I say it’s ready, which I count as a microscopic success, then we eat in near silence.

The dark sets in fast outside the windows, and the fire I rebuilt an hour ago is putting out enough heat to make the room feel smaller and more intimate than either of us seems to know what to do with.

After a long, agonizing stretch of silence, I try.

“How’s the book?”

“Fine.”

“What’s it about?”

She pauses, then murmurs, “A man making bad decisions.”

I look at her, and something in the set of her mouth suggests that description is a deliberate choice, and not a coincidence. Still, I bite anyway. “Is it any good?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Regardless of trying to get somewhere, she halts any progress, and I know it’s intentional. I can feel the tension between us making the space feel more precarious than it needs to be.

I put down my fork. “Tessa.”

“Hunter.”

“I’m trying,” I say flatly, unwilling to dress it up. “I know that doesn’t fix anything, and I’m not telling you it does, but I’m trying… and I’d like to talk to you.”

Her jaw clenches slightly, then she clears her throat. “We are talking.”

“We’re exchanging words without any meaning,” I mumble, looking at her across the table while receiving only a blank one in return. “There’s a difference, and you know it.”

“Then what would you like me to say?” she asks. For as direct as it is, the question is genuine, like she’s actually curious what I was hoping to get from her.

I take another careful breath. “Anything resembling an actual thought you’re having. You can be angry at me. Honestly, I’d rather you be angry at me out loud than continue this.”

She watches as I gesture at the space between us, and something moves in her face. “You’d rather I was angry.”

“Than this? Yes.”

Tessa looks at me for a long moment, then she picks up her fork again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And just like that, she continues eating with all the coolness in the world, as if none of this is eating away at her like it is for me.

***

I sit on the porch long after dinner wraps up, and everything is put away.

The cabin behind me has gone quiet again, and while I know for a fact that Tessa is still in there, it feels more like I’m completely alone here.

The sky is genuinely something this far up, and I’d forgotten it in the years I’ve been gone. The stars are out with an almost aggressive clarity, and I have the feeling Tessa would appreciate it more than anyone else, but she won’t even give it a chance.

My father used to bring me up here when I was a boy, and Cole would give us clearance to use the cabin. He’d find a week in the fall for just the two of us, and we’d fish in the streams, track wild game, and sit on this same porch in the cold night air.