Page 43 of Never Have I Ever

“Laird?”

I turn back and then stand upright. Seeing Poppy bundled in a coat with that damn beanie on has loosened my pent-up anger.

I’m starting to believe this time together isn’t about capturing what we once had, but more about starting over. I hope she gives us a chance. “This gauge isn’t working. The generator might not hold. It hasn’t been serviced for some years since we’re rarely up here.”

“What happens if it goes out?” She comes into the barn but stops shy of getting too close.

“The forecast clears, but we won’t have electricity for a few days. Not until we can get someone out to look at it or it’s restored through Deer Lake Energy.”

A few more steps are taken, and she stops again. “The food in the refrigerator will go bad.”

“It’s replaceable. We’ll be safe. That’s what matters.”

Though we’re here with our gazes fastened together, and by the sounds of our voices, unsure of where the other stands in this mess, she closes the gap and grabs my sleeve. “I’m not the outdoor kind of girl, but I can appreciate it.”

One confession deserves another. “I prefer the beach to the mountains, but I couldn’t find my bearings in the sand anymore.”

“That’s equally sad and beautiful. That could be a song lyric.”

“Well, might as well be open about this trip. My sister and cousin,” I say, running my hand over the back of my head. I look away in disgrace. They’ve been taking the heat for my behavior. “And everyone I work with recommended I take a vacation. I had no choice.”

“So it’s not for fun?” Her smile is slight, but reassurance is found in the corners.

“I was forced into it.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been fucked up since the loss. I need to get my life back in order.”

She looks at the sleeve she’s attached to and then back at me. “Let me help you.” She never ceases to amaze me.

I take hold of the hem of her coat and gently tug. “You have amnesia, and you want to help me?”

“If I can, I will.” Her arms go wide when she says, “I’m healed, and it’s only a small pocket of time that I can’t remember.”

Small pocket of time. That weekend had my whole life wrapped up in it. But I know what she means and won’t hold it against her. I can’t.

“Please don’t treat me like a patient. I’ve been stuck in that role for years. I’m ready for change and to live my life again. That’s why I’m working again. And why I came out here. Do you still want me to stay?” Hope is clear as day in her hazel eyes, and I eat it up, savoring every taste I’m given.

“I want you to do what feels right for you.”

Her smile blossoms like a spring flower for me. “I can’t leave you out here to survive on chicken tenders from Maggie’s, though even as a chef, I have to admit they weren’t that bad.”

“I’m sure they aren’t as good as your chicken pesto.”

“They’re not. I’ll have to make it for you again sometime.” She’s got a spark that I can appreciate. What I don’t appreciate is her letting go of me and tucking her hands in her pockets. It’s cold, though, so I won’t hold it against her.

I look around the barn, kicking up some dirt and brush that has managed its way in. “What do you say? Do I make arrangements for you to get out of here, or do you want to see how fun being in the mountains with no electricity can be?”

“Well, when you put it like that, there’s really only one choice. B please.” I can’t find the lie in that answer, not when I have the wild times we shared in Austin playing on repeat in my memories.

Reaching up, I take hold of both sides of the pink hat and tug it closer over her ears to protect her. “There,” I say, admiring my band’s name so prominently displayed on her head. It’s a bold move, but from what I remember, she’s always been about spontaneity. “Come on, then. We need to prepare for a shutdown.” When I walk to the exit, I catch her right beside me out of the corner of my eye. Where she belongs. “I want to check another panel on the side of the house.”

“What’s it for?”

I smirk. “The hot tub.”

15

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