Page 50 of Years in the Making

“When, four months ago?” she scoffs. “Teddy, you made out with her, let her leave, then twice since then you’ve spent hours in the same room and didn’t talk once. That’s hardly trying. Why do all the men in my life need me to spell it out? You’re worse than Foster.”

Foster is Cass’s brother. I don’t know much about the guy, but she rolls her eyes a lot when she brings him up. I’m not sure I want to be in the same class with him. “How do you know we didn’t talk once? Were you watching us the whole time? And what was I supposed to do? Tie her down and tell her all my deep dark secrets? She told me she wasn’t doing this again.”

“We all talk about you two. There’s even a group chat. But two apparent strangers who make out randomly in the middle of the day—sort of in public, I might add—probably have some things to discuss.”

“What? No. That was, I don’t know, leftover sexual frustration.”

Cass looks at me with wide eyes. “Sure. I get it—you’re hot, she’s hot, you’re just drawn to one another. Hell, I’d make out with both of you if I was into that sort of thing.”

I just blink up at her trying to follow her line of thinking. “I’m sorry, like a threesome?”

“God no. If I was into making out, I could imagine either of you would do, due to your level of attractiveness.”

More blinking by me, slower this time.

“I’m not into physical relationships, but you two seem to be, so I say just, like, bang it out and see what happens.”

“Did you miss the part where I said she wasn’t interested? Also, I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation for the workplace,” I stammer, trying to refocus on my work.

“Oh, it’s not. That’s why it’s fun.” She jumps down and heads out of the room. “Teddy?”

“Yeah?” I look up to where she’s leaning around the door.

“If she’s the one, there’s only one thing to do. Start small, butstart. If progress takes ten years, it takes ten years, but at least you’re progressing.” She shrugs like she hasn’t just given me a pretty stellar piece of advice, and walks out of view, whistling.

I never did tell Nellie what made me run away. I was so surprised she let me get out what I did, I didn’t want to push my luck.

When Nellie walked in, I knew who she was immediately, and it took everything I had not to drag her to me. Those dark blue eyes didn’t miss a thing, widening ever so slightly when they landed on me. I hadn’t expected her to hug me when I was telling her about my mom, and I certainly didn’t expect to be pushed into her car and have her climb on top of me when I’d walked her outside. I knew it was a bad idea, but I shushed that little voice the minute it started to protest. Nellie was grinding into me, moaning into my mouth. My Nellie, the girl who had captivated me by merely existing, was back. It wasn’t until she slid off me and said that would never happen again that I realized I wasn’t lost in some dream. The Nellie in my dreams never stopped; I just always woke up.

I’m lost in thought, running through possible scenarios for tomorrow when Bennett’s head pops into the room. “I’m about to head out. You need anything before I leave?”

He knows by now that Cass and I have everything in hand, but I’m convinced he still has a hard time admitting that. “Nah, we’re good,” I say, looking back down at the list in front of me. I can still feel his eyes on me though and raise my head to see a look of concern on his face. “What’s up?”

“You going to be okay tomorrow?”

“I assume so, are you?”

“Marley is going to be home. I’ll be more than okay.” The smile that spreads across his face could power a small city.

“So we’ll both be good.” I smile back, hoping that will be the end of the conversation.

“It’s just that at Christmas you and Nellie seemed a bit”—I can see his brain working on how to say awkward as fuck in a more diplomatic way—“less warm than we had all expected seeing how things had gone the first time. Then in March…” he trails off.

In March, Bennett and Marley had hosted a St. Patrick’s Day party. It turns out that Bennett loves a gathering, and his neighbors, Nancy and Karl, have both implied that having Marley around has just made his desire to host that much stronger. Nellie had arrived with Izzy and Tom, and I’d been so distracted by the tight green sweater she was wearing that I’d fallen up the porch steps.

She’d stifled a smile, and I remember thinking that I’d fall up every single flight of stairs if it got her to look at me with anything other than disinterest. She spun away from me before I’d even reached the door, her dark auburn hair flying out dramatically as she moved further into the house.

Cass had found a fiddle somewhere, and after a few pints, I gave into playing it. I hadn’t played the violin in years, not since before Mom died, and yet between the booze and company, my fingers seemed to know what to do. Nellie’s eyes had been glued to me as I played. I’d never played for her before, onlytold her that I had, and this felt like I was letting her in a bit more. Revealing more of myself. Into the second playing of the only song I remembered, I’d fumbled when she’d stood abruptly and left the room. Marley was the only one who had noticed, and when I’d looked over at her, she’d tipped her head as if to ask, “What the hell was that?”

Marley and Bennett tell each other everything, and so it’s no surprise he’s bringing March up. It’s on days like this that I miss the solitude of working in the middle of the forest, alone. Or mostly alone. My thoughts haven’t given me much peace over the last decade. I set my clipboard down and turn to fully face Bennett. “Nellie and I have a history. A history that I tainted. If you want to know how, you’ll have to ask her. If she tells you, that’s fine, but you’re not going to hear it from me.”

He watches me for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

I don’t feel my shoulders relax until I hear the door shut, but my thumb’s got my ring spinning at hyper speed. I know they all want to know the story; they’re all a bunch of tea grannies when they get wind of drama. Usually, it’s about someone in the farming or rescue community, though. I hate that I’m at the center of it now.

I’d been holding my breath since Bennett told us what the plan was for tomorrow night. I’d seen Nellie twice since the car, and both times were sweet torture. She was there, but she was untouchable. If her gaze landed on me, it was with a question she never vocalized. I’d do anything she’d ask of me, even leave; if that’s what Nellie wanted, that’s what I’d do. But she never said a thing, and so both times we danced awkwardly around one another, trying to not give anything away while clearly being very obvious that there was something else going on.

As it stands, neither of us is going anywhere, so I have toeither accept this uncomfortable existence, or I have to take another step towards fixing what I’d broken in the first place. Tomorrow seems like a good opportunity to start, even if it is the tiniest step forward. As Cass had so eloquently put it, progress is progress.

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