Growing up, I never brought boyfriends over. It was easier to keep them hidden away than to endure the inevitable barrage of questions. Even bringing friends over was a rare occurrence.
My parents weren’t warm or fun like everyone else’s. They were serious, strict, and tight-lipped. As a child and teen, I jumped at every chance to go to a friend’s house. Baking brownies with their moms or going fishing with their dads felt like stepping into another world. Their parents didn’t throw out their favorite books about witches or censor their music if it had a single cuss word.They didn’t sneer or purposely ignore me when I was bold enough to speak.
At sleepovers I’d want to squeeze my eyes shut for a minute longer to delay having to go back to my home. Going back felt like leaving a world of bright color and returning to a land of gray.
We walk through the nearly empty house and head straight to the backyard. I’m thankful the daylight is running out quickly, so his visit will be brief. The time I’ve spent with him today is already seeping in, threatening to break down the mental barrier I’ve built around the idea of us ever being close again.
I stand in the shade nearby as he crouches in the grass, tinkering with the sprinkler system. He screws in the new sprinkler head, adjusting the sweep and radius of the spray with practiced ease. His phone rings three times during the process, but he doesn’t even glance at it. An ugly feeling twists in my stomach with the assumption that it’s another woman calling, wondering where he is or if he’ll come over later. I shouldn’t care, but that sour feeling sits like lead in my gut all the same.
When he finishes, he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and walks over to me. “All finished. It should be good to go now.”
“Thank you. You made that look so easy. I’d probably have spent hours out here trying to install the wrong piece.”
Before he can reply, his phone rings for the fourth time. He finally pulls it out of his pocket, glances at the screen, then shoves it back away.
“You can answer if you need to,” I offer. “I don’t want to keep you from any plans.”
He shakes his head. “It’s work. They’re always trying to get me to come in on my days off.”
That heavy feeling in my stomach pops, replaced with a gush of relief I know I shouldn’t feel.
Stepping back inside the house, I gesture to the kitchen. “I’d offer you coffee or something as a thank you, but all I’ve got is flavored seltzer water which I know you hate with a passion.”
“It tastes like drinking static. I’m impressed you remember,” he replies, smiling. He heads to the bathroom to wash his hands. When I walk down the hall to do the same, I find him standing at the doorway to the guest room I’ve been staying in. It’s completely empty except for the half-deflated air mattress on the floor with a single blanket. The sight of it is pitiful, but the look on his face makes it seem as if I’ve been sleeping on a cement floor with only a sheet of newspaper for warmth.
He looks up at me. “Tell me this isn’t where you’ve been sleeping, El.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” I try to sound casual, brushing it off. It is only a temporary inconvenience after all. I won’t be here forever.
“I don’t like this,” he says, his eyes lingering on the room before sweeping over the rest of the barren house. “You’re here all alone in this empty house, with nothing but a fucking broken air mattress.”
“It’s only for a little while. I’m leaving as soon as it sells.”
He tenses. “I thought maybe you were staying.”
“No. My life and job are back in Washington.”
The silence between us is deafening. There’s no relationship, not even much of a friendship between us anymore. And yet, the roles feel strangely reversed—this time, I’m the one with plans to leave.
Here in Lawson, the only family I had is gone. My best friends are getting married and starting families. There’s no more brunch every weekend, no more spontaneous sleepovers. I don’t want to be the fifth wheel, the burden everyone has to make room for. I’ve accepted my life in Washington. I have a good, albeit boring, job, but it pays well, and it gives me a chance to start fresh—without the memories of my parents shadowing every step. And without constantly running into the man standing right in front of me. Distance is better. I can’t get my heart broken when I’m all the way in another state.
He turns toward me, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to relieve some invisible tension. “You should stay with Madi and Noah. They’ve got a guest room.”
“I can’t do that to them. They’re getting married next week, and the last thing they need is me in the way. Besides, I’ve got a ton of cleaning to do here before the real estate photographer comes on Friday. Really, I’m fine. I have running water and a roof over my head. That’s all I need.”
“Okay.” The hesitation before the word lingers, telling me this isn’t over—not in his mind. He’s a caretaker to his very core. It’s what makes him such a good doctor. He’d give the shirt off his back without a second thought. Now,knowing he’s worried about me makes me regret having him over at all. The last thing I wanted was for his attention to be on me. Yet it seems like all I’ve done is capture it since coming home.
And that’s a dangerous place to be, because it’s exactly how I fell in love with him the first time.
Madi
Jude told me I need to let you come stay at my house. What’s going on? You okay, girl? Are you pulling a Delaney and hiding that you don’t have a place to stay?
Ella
I’m fine. He saw that I was sleeping on an air mattress and made it into a bigger deal than it was.
Delaney