Page 13 of The Story We Wrote

I could tell by the look on her face that the battery had never been changed, at least by her. “Well, in that case, let’s go get you a battery.” I started towards my cabin.

“Wait!” she shouted, hurrying in my direction. “I don’t want you using your day off chauffeuring me around.”

“It isn’t a problem. I need to go into town today anyway. Gotta get some fencing for the pasture. Let me just get changed and we can go. I’ll take you to the beekeeper, too.” Aspen followed me up to my front door. Pushing it open, I went inside while she stayed stuck at the threshold.

“You can come in, ya know. I won’t bite.”

Aspen nodded and walked into the living space. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“There’s coffee in the pot, cream in the fridge. Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a minute.” While heading to my bedroom, I heard her open a cabinet and then the fridge, making herself a cup of coffee.

“Your place is nice!” She shouted from the living room. I had my bedroom door open and caught a glance of her walking around. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a Miller Lite t-shirt.

“Thanks!” I yelled back, “As nice as a single man can make it, I guess.”

I touched up my hair in the bathroom and threw on my signature hat. The light khaki color had seen better days, but nothing is better than a worn hat that fits right.

When I made my way back into the kitchen, Aspen was leaning up against the counter next to the container from my porch.

“Ah, so you got my muffins.” She pointed towards them. I grabbed a muffin and popped it in my mouth.

I replied, my mouth full, “I did.”

Aspen scoffed, “Doesn’t look like you even have a hangover.”

“Alcohol doesn’t really have that effect on me.” I wiped the crumbs from my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thanks for dropping them off. You must’ve gotten up pretty early.” I’d never had a woman do extra for me before, it felt nice.

Aspen dismissed it with a wave of her hand, “I can make them blindfolded. I’ve been doing it at The Coffee Cup for years. You’ll have to give me your opinion with the fresh blueberries.” There was a tone of pride in her voice. I’d make sure to tell her I loved them even if I didn’t, just to keep that smile on her face.

When we walked out to my truck, I made my way to the passenger door first, opening it for her to climb in. “What a gentleman,” she commented, climbing up and flopping down on the seat.

I tipped her my hat and muttered, “Always.”

Aspen

Sitting in the passenger seat of Boone’s truck was the last place I thought I’d ever be. After last night, I didn’t know what would happen when we both sobered up. I wanted to ask Boone how he felt. I thought all the events of last night would come rushing back, and I would feel nothing but regret. Instead, I felt calm and comfortable about the tequila-infused decisions I made. I took the night to sleep it off and the morning to think. Last night, I felt like a wreck, but I realized I had nothing to be sorry for or embarrassed about. Boone driving me into townvalidated that thought. The anxiety wasn’t in the driver seat, and I liked it better that way.

There was a different presence about me today. For the first time, I wasn’t locked up in a cage by myself. Boone brought out a side of me that seemed almost immature and I liked it. At twenty-five, I woke up feeling like a teenager again.

“Do you want to put some music on?” Boone asked, pulling me from my thoughts. He reached down to turn on the radio, hitting the ‘tune’ button until the first clear station filled the car. A country station came in and Zach Bryan’s “Revival” filled the car at a low hum.

“This is perfect,” I replied, smiling as I reached for the dial to turn it up.

The sun was shining and the late morning air was the right temperature. I rolled down my window and let the wind tousle my hair. Singing to myself, I put my hand out the window and let the air drift through my fingers. I could hear Boone humming along.

Humming turned to singing, and singing turned to us belting the lyrics while driving the backroads into town. I took a mental picture of this moment. Boone looked handsome as ever. He was smiling, singing along while his eyes were focused on the road, and mine were fixed on him.

When the song slowed, I reached for the dial. The adrenaline taking over and fueling me to broach the subject that was consuming my thoughts.

“About last night…” I began, trailing off and not knowing how to finish the sentence. What did I even want to know, would he be weird around me now? Would it impact the “friendship” that may not be a real friendship? Did he regret it? Would he have gone farther?

“What about it?” Boone asked.

“I… I don’t want it to make things weird between us,” I confessed.

Boone laughed, “Am I making it weird, Aspen?”

No. He wasn’t, in fact it was the opposite.

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