Page 4 of Beards and Broken Hearts

Up in the tree, I see the culprit sitting on a branch without a care.

“My bird, Handsome. He’s never been outside before. Here boy. Come on. Come back down here,” she calls, waving her hands with no luck from the feathered brat who sits happily on his newfound perch.

“Yeah, that seems to be working. Here he comes,” I smart off, still feeling the sting of my fall and bruised ego. I’m usually a lot steadier in times of crisis.

Daphne’s head snaps to me, and her look should peel the flesh from my face. I kid you not. She went from friendly beauty to defensive bird mama in a matter of seconds.

I groan but relent to her glare before John realizes how much she’s got me squirming. The last thing I need in this awkward situation is for him to ask too many questions or make assumptions.

Grabbing a branch, I climb my reluctant ass up the tree while she hollers her displeasure from the ground.

“Don’t you have a ladder you could use? If you fall again, he’ll probably fly off.”

Gritting my teeth, I make it up onto an unsteady branch of the Magnolia tree where the fluffy thing sits pretty, without a care in the world.

“You want down, or you gonna make your mama keep shouting at you all night?” I ask the bird, even though I don’t expect a reply. To my surprise, he creeps down the branch closer to me but is still out of reach.

“Is he coming to you? He doesn’t like men usually. I don’t think this is going to work,” Daphne continues from below us.

“Listen, I realize you didn’t like my late visit, but I assure you my intentions are good. Now, please come down and make your mama happy.” The bird stares at me for a long minute, but when I slowly stretch out my arm, he waddles until he sits on my shoulder.

“Good bird. Now, please don’t bite me,” I mutter as I change my footing to another branch and slowly make our way to the ground.

When we safely make it down, I expect him to fly to Daphne or for her to reach for him. Instead, she just stares in astonishment. I'm not sure if it’s the shock from seeing me again because I’m definitely still feeling that, too. Or maybe she didn’t expect the bird to come down with me. He seems pretty chill, though, and I take a minute to look at him. He’s about twenty inches tall, white with a little yellow on his head. He's not a bad looking little guy, and I bet his mama takes great care of him.

She’s currently still staring, and I’m getting really uncomfortable, so I reach up under his belly so he moves to my hand, and I walk him over, placing him on her shoulder. Luckily, he stays, but so does her stare.

“Well, you’re welcome,” I tell her, shrugging my shoulders.

John snickers behind me but moves to stand by my side. “Ma’am, we got a call about a possible gas leak in your home?” he asks, and his voice seems to knock her out of her trance.

“Um, sorry, what? No, I didn’t call,” Daphne says, looking confused.

“Dispatch said an older woman called it in. Did you have any alarms going off by chance? Loud enough for a neighbor to hear it?”

“No, I’ve been listening to music while I sew, but turned it off when I came to the door. It’s been a few hours, and there have been no alarms.”

“Maybe it was just the music then. Mind if we step in and double check your alarms just for precaution?” I ask. It’s technically protocol, but I can’t help but be curious. Seeing her again, all grown up, I wonder what her life is like now. Does she still listen to eighties rock and smooth jazz? Will I spot a record machine she’s listening to music on like she said she wanted when we were younger? And what has she been sewing for hours? My mind careens like a rollercoaster as she nods in agreement.

“Sure,” she says.

John and I turn toward the little house, and I don’t see her but feel her following us.

CHAPTER THREE

Daphne

My heart is still thundering as I follow the man who saved Handsome from the tree. Handsome is usually more of an introvert, never flying outside, so when it happened, panic set in, and suddenly seeing the ex who ghosted me all those years ago wasn’t my biggest worry. Except now, I’m alone with him in my house. His partner went to the truck to report back and wait for him.

“How many detectors do you have?” He says in a low tone.

The crease between his brows tells me he doesn’t want to be here, but his eyes fall over every inch of my belongings.

“Um, honestly, I just moved here a few months ago. It’s my sister’s place until I find something more permanent,” I tell him, then place Handsome back on his perch in the living room. The house is mostly open concept except for the two bedrooms upstairs. The walls are painted a deep green, and Holly keeps them decorated like Christmas all year round because she’s obsessed with the holidays.

“Your sister Holly lives here, too?” He asks, his voice softer but still avoiding eye contact as he continues to scan the room.

“Yeah, she does,” I reply, a bit snarky. She’s my only sibling, so that’s pretty obvious. At least he's not pretending we don’t know each other. But my guard is up. I haven't forgotten how he left things between us.

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