Page 6 of Boxer Next Door

My parents had this make-believe world they’d built for themselves, and they were totally immersed in it. They were always too busy clinging to it to ever understand me and how I felt. Once I realized how everyone else was, all I wanted was the real world and not their make-believe, and they treated it like some kind of betrayal. That feeling didn’t last that long, though, they just chalked it up to me growing. They thought once I was older I’d understand them.

Fat chance of that happening, I thought to myself with a scoff.

I distanced myself from my parents in high school. I still talked to them, and they had phones around so it wasn’t too difficult. But there were times their phone bills weren’t paid, or now that I was out of the house, they left with no notice to go for a trip somewhere in some remote area with no hope of any signal all because they liked to experience nature. It was the one thing we had in common, but unlike them, I would never drop my real life responsibilities to go hiking and exploring.

I hadn't talked to them since the move, and it had been several weeks already.

Just forget about it, I told myself, pushing my thoughts off with a shake of my head. They know my number, I told them where I would be. If they need me, they’ll look for me.

I was in the backyard of my new house chopping wood, and I got back into it with more vigor, letting out my frustration with the world. I’d already done half the work, now to get to the other half before it got dark. I’d heard a car, which could only mean that my neighbor had arrived, and she usually got back home late, so I knew I had to get on.

The ax swung hard as I brought it down with all my strength. I was already panting from all the work I’d done today, with little breaks in between to catch my breath, eat and drink. I’d been at this for an hour now at least, but I needed to get everything done.

When I moved, I moved with a plan, and I wanted to put it into action quickly. The wood broke, and I picked it up, tossing it away toward the growing pile. I might have done it with more strength than necessary. Also, I wasn’t really paying attention because my mind was on something else. But I heard when it hit, and I looked up to see I’d hit the neighbor’s fence. It wobbled, and to my surprise, the whole thing toppled over.

Fuck, I thought to myself.

I dropped the ax with a sigh and wiped my forehead again. I couldn’t leave it lying there, but I couldn’t touch it just yet. There was no way I could fix it quietly, and I didn’t want to shock my neighbor with the damage before I could even inform her or apologize for it.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and went over to the woman’s place. I’d seen her a few times while I was fixing the place up. There was a son, and as far as I knew, no husband. I waited at her door, giving myself a minute to catch my breath. I raised my hand to knock, pausing a little because my body trembled with nerves.

I swallowed. This was my responsibility. Unlike my parents, I knew what that meant.

I knocked in three hard raps and waited for the door to open.

When it did, I was surprised.

We had been neighbors for some time, and I’d seen her in passing, but because I was always busy or exhausted from doing so much work, I’d never taken such a close look before.

Beautiful.

She had dark hair and gray eyes, a combination I’d only ever heard of in books, and it was as beautiful as I’d thought it would be. She was maybe thirty-two, with pale skin. She looked a little soft around the hips even under the clothes she wore, just a little bit, but I knew she exercised. I’d seen her a few times in the morning, coming back from a run just as I was heading out to start my day with more repairs and chores, so she was definitely fit.

Lydia, I thought when she told me her name. Just as beautiful as she looked.

I could feel my body stir with attraction, and I was a little surprised at myself. Not because she was older. It had been some time since my ex, more than a year, and no other woman had caught my interest in that time. It was hard anyway, before, when we still lived in the same town and I’d occasionally run into her on some other man’s arm. I’d learned to not let it bother me, but I couldn’t get it up for anyone after that, not even a one night stand. The move had been partially so I could forget her and try to move on with someone else.

My eyes roamed over Lydia as we talked. I couldn’t help it and I tried to be discreet. I wasn’t paying too much attention to the conversation, but it went smoothly. Her son needed her, so we made the agreement to talk the next day.

I couldn’t help but be pleased when we came to that conclusion because it meant I’d be seeing her again, and soon. Yeah, we were neighbors and I would see her anyway, but I’d get to talk to her, get to know her more.

“Slow down, boy,” I muttered to myself as I crossed back over to my place. “It’s only talking about the fence that you broke.”

I winced at the reminder. I walked to the backyard and saw the damage again, sighing. I did feel guilty about it, even though she hadn't seemed all that mad. But I knew that even if it didn’t seem that way, it didn’t mean she wasn’t mad. I couldn’t even blame her if she was mad. I had been careless.

“I’d better stop for today. I’m too distracted to do much, anyway.”

I had a habit of talking to myself, both in my head and out loud. It was from back in school when a lot of kids wouldn’t want to be around me, so I ended up alone a lot. I cleared up my yard, then went back to the house. I’d done a lot of fixing up, and there wasn’t much left before I turned it all into a real home. I’d need to buy some furniture and other things because it was still a bit sparse, but I had everything I needed for the moment.

For a moment, I stood and stared. I’d done it plenty of times since I had moved, and it had grown less overwhelming over time. The house was great. Because it was so run down and the realtor wanted it off his hands, I was able to get a good price. But the place was so fucking empty and not just with the lack of furniture.

One thing about my parents that I’d absolutely loved—the main reason I couldn’t bring myself to hate them—they knew how to fill a house with warmth. My place was empty. I couldn’t call it a home yet because there was absolutely no life in it. I wanted to do a walkthrough of the rooms and think about my plans some more.

Instead, I sighed and went into the kitchen, grabbing some snacks from the cupboards. I only had a few to tide me over. I took my health and fitness very seriously, so snacks were only an emergency food for me. I’d yet to set up the kitchen so I could cook, so I usually had take-out from a restaurant nearby.

I moved to the living room. I had one rocking chair and more seats on the way. I didn’t go sit down yet, though. Instead, I moved to the big window that faced next door.

Lydia, I thought with a sigh. So fucking fine…