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“No, I didn’t,” I tell her and then watch as she dips the towel into the solution and moves to the wall to start wiping it down. “Jane, you don’t need to clean. I’ve already called a company to come and do this.”
“I can’t help it. I have to do something. Tell me, what happened last week? Tuesday maybe?” she asks, not looking at me but making broad vertical swipes. I can see the residue as it smudges.
“Tuesday?”
“Yes. I showed up to work on Wednesday, and he didn’t utter a word to me. He’s always told me hello, too, so I just left him alone, but he didn’t speak at all. To anyone. For days. What he did do was work. Hard. And there are only two reasons a man works like the way he’s been working. One, he’s angry, or two, he’s hurt.”
“Maybe he was angry? I didn’t hurt him. He told me he just wanted to be friends.”
But then my mind flips to the conversation we had last night where he mentioned hearing me say I wouldn’t marry him. How bizarre is that? I feel like all of this is uncharted waters, and maybe I was insensitive when I said that.
“But why did he say that?” she asks. “For the past couple of weeks, Briggs has been the happiest I’ve ever seen him. And don’t get me started on the pranks, which I think are hilarious. I’ve known him since he was a boy, and no one has ever riled him up like you do.”
“He said that after he overheard a conversation between my brother and me. But what I said wasn’t directed toward him. It was a general statement that I didn’t think was relevant to us at all.”
“The biggest communication problem people have is they do not listen to understand. They listen to reply. I heard that once, and it kind of stuck with me. He should have taken the time to understand why you said what you did, and maybe you should try to understand why he replied the way he did.”
I think about last night and how he was so worried about me. His reaction to the situation, his tears, his worry, it wasn’t one of a friend, but of something more.
“Men are stupid,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Sometimes we have to think for ourselves and for them, but Cora, darling, you need to have a real conversation with him, one where you listen to understand each other and not reply. I think the outcome will be good for both of you.”
“Right, I think I’ll go do that now.” I don’t want to be away from him. I want to be with him, so I sure hope she knows what she’s talking about.
She smiles at me, and it isn’t a good luck smile. It’s a go-get-your-man smile.
Slipping into my boots, I make my way outside. The driveway and the grass are damaged from the fire truck, but that’s okay. These things too can be fixed. Slowly, I make my way over the familiar path from my house to his. I’m not even sure if he’s at home. He could be up on the mountain, but I at least have to try.
Knocking on his door, I’m nervous. Too many times I’ve stood here hoping for a different outcome than the one I received. My heart races, my chest tightens, and my nose stings. Like always, the heavy tread of his footsteps alerts me that he’s coming. My stomach dips, and when the door swings open, I’m so happy to see him that my eyes blur with tears.
“What’s wrong?” he stammers, stepping out of the doorway and scanning me from head to toe. His hands raise to touch me, but then they drop.
Briggs wears sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. His hair is wet like he just got out of the shower, and he smells so good standing next to me. I don’t know if it’s because my sense of smell is heightened or if my nose is relieved to smell something else. Either way, he smells like home.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I tell him, moving so he has room to stand directly in front of me.
He lets out a deep breath and runs his hand over his head and his face. I know last night was taxing for him too. I can’t imagine how much of a wreck I would be if the situation was reversed and this happened to him.
“Actually, no, I’m not. Can we talk?”
“I hate it when people use that phrase,” he replies, moving to the side so Duke can make his way out. Duke is wearing his sweater, and this makes my already damp eyes let a few tears escape.
“Oh.” I take a step back and look at the ground. “Never mind then.”
“I’m not saying no, just that I don’t like the phrase. Do you want to come in?”
“No, out here’s fine. But I’ll sit down.” I glance at the rocking chair next to me and remember him not liking me in this one before.
“You can sit in the chair. I was an asshole that day, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” But I still don’t sit there. Instead, I turn and sit on his porch steps and wipe my eyes. Duke flops down next to me. I run my fingers through his fur and watch as Briggs leaves the door open and follows. He sits next to me on the step but leans on the opposite railing.
“How’s your arm today?” he asks gently.
“It hurts, but if I don’t move it, then it feels a little better.”
He frowns. “Did you take the pain medicine? After you went upstairs, I remembered it was in my truck and put it on your counter.”
“You came inside after I went to bed?”
