Page 26 of No More Love Songs

He looks briefly taken aback by my outburst, but then he also shifts sideways a bit to make eye contact more accessible for the duration of this chat. “My mistake. What’s the problem then?”

“I don’t actually know,” I admit. “I just know you keep jarring me mentally. It’s weird. And uncomfortable.”

“Ah.” He nods, like he suddenly understands my brain even when I still don’t. “You’re looking for the thing and you can’t find it.”

“What thing?”

“The thing that makes me like all the others. The thing that you need to find so your brain can relax, and you can feel safe because you won’t be surprised by it later on.”

I shake my head. “I don’t put all men in the same category. I know you’re not all liars and narcissists.”

“It’s fine,” he says, his mouth moving into a strange half-grin that isn’t exactly joyful but leans more toward bitter. “I do it too.”

“So, then what’s my thing?” After all my years of bad relationships, this could be really helpful information. Maybe there’s some undeniable fault I’ve been flaunting unknowingly all this time that’s led to all the wrong sort of men always showing up to claim my heart.

He tilts his head and a grin sweeps over his lips in his regular fashion again. “Haven’t found it yet.”

“I’m sure you will,” I assure him. There’s bound to be something.

“No doubt you’ll stumble across mine as well.” He kicks his heel against the trunk, swinging his leg ever so slightly.

I sigh and stare back out at the view. Then my eyes swing right back to him, peering at him sideways. “Wanna just tell me what yours is? It’s kind of annoying having you right there at the front of my mind with everything else I’m actually trying to be focused on right now.”

He sighs. “I throw rocks at kittens. You?”

I nod grimly. “I spit on the homeless.”

“You’re a terrible person,” he deadpans.

“At least I’m not cruel to animals,” I say haughtily.

We both turn away and look straight ahead before either of us cracks.

For a while we both sit in silence, enjoying the view and the magic of life around us. Everywhere I turn there’s something to see and hear, some beautiful wildlife exchange to witness.

“I always thought it would be cool to live in a treehouse,” I whisper when we’ve been quiet so long, speaking into the peace feels like it could break something. “Now I know it would be.”

“There’s one on the other side of the lodge,” he says, matching my low tone. “Built it for Ari a few years back. It’s plenty big enough for a sleeping bag or two if you want to persuade her to invite you over for a sleepover.” The corner of his eye crinkles and I don’t need to see the rest of his face to know he’s smiling again.

“I will definitely want to do that.”

We both get quiet again after that. Isn’t until we’re ready to head back down to the real world, or at least real-world level, that the hum of small talk accompanies our walk again.

Kit shows me two more spots just off the trail, both of which I’ll be more likely to revisit on my own than Boulder Tree (that’s what he calls it – I learn that too on my way back to the lodge). The first is a fallen tree trunk that the earth reclaimed and covered in the softest moss for sitting on and most wonderful wildflowers to see and smell while there soaking in the harmonies of mother nature. The second is a giant rock sitting right at the edge of a babbling brook that meanders its way through these woods. The rock could easily become my favorite hideaway, between the musical water and the way the top is shaped just right to sit on top of it with your legs crossed to get your meditation on. Hence its name, Meditation Rock. For a man who writes music, he’s not all that creative with the words. The tree goes by Mossy Ass. For self-explanatory reasons.

By the time we get back, it’s nearly dinnertime already.

“I’d invite you for another cooking lesson, but Sundays I run into town to pick up dinner from Ari’s favorite pizza place,” he says when we find ourselves back inside the lobby.

“I wouldn’t force you into two lessons in one day anyway.” I mean to laugh at that, but somehow the sound never follows my words.

His eyes are warm, but his smile is absent when he leans in and whispers, “You can stop believing you’re a nuisance now, Sky. It’s just another lie some asshole told you.” Then he gives my hand a gentle squeeze as he walks by. When I finally manage to turn myself around to see where he went, he’s nowhere to be found.

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KIT

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