Page 63 of Dahlia Made A List

“It wasn’t a week,” she said softly into my hair, “before I knew the treasure I lucked into. You have a joy about you that’s infectious. And I’m loving how our friendship’s growing. Which means I’m gonna protect what we have. So fess up, Dahlia Whitcombe. What’s going on?”

With her hands on my shoulders, she leaned back and gave me a stern look. A laugh escaped, watery but real, and I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“I think I’m just confused. Think I let myself feel things I had no business feeling. And despite my best efforts, I think I let myself come to have expectations, and you know that’s never a good thing.”

“I don’t know if that’s true. I think we should have expectations sometimes. You should expect to be treated well. You know as much. It’s why you booted ol’ Brando and launched your list in the first place, right?”

“True.” I sighed. “I guess I’m learning that my expectations may not always be reasonable.”

“You’re thinking about Wyatt?”

I nodded, beyond trying to hide the muddled chaos of my emotions. “We started something when he came up to the yurt. And I thought it meant more than I think it actually did. I’m closing in on the end of my list and I think he figures his part is about over.”

“Have you talked to him?”

I shook my head, my eyes overflowing at just the idea.

“Having expectations related to your partner are normal. But they’ve got to be reciprocated, balanced. Most importantly, they’ve got to be understood. He can’t help but let you down if you never let him know where you stand.”

I drew in a long, shuddery breath. “Wyatt’s not my partner. We’re friends, that’s all. I’ve blown it up in my mind. But he lives in a whole other world. One where Sunday dinner has hired help and fine china and people don’t talk about flashing hockey players.”

“Does Wyatt even care about that?”

“His family does.”

“I think you should talk out how you’re feeling. Going on not knowing, assuming the worst, that’s not going to get you anywhere. When are you seeing him next?”

I moved to the sink, grabbed a clean glass and filled it with tap water. Swallowing down a few gulps, I turned back to Maia. “I guess he’s got a lot going on this week. Just as well. I need to think, anyway.”

I set my glass in the sink with a sigh. I’d spoken the truth. With Maia’s words bouncing around in my head, I pressed a fist to my chest. “Any chance you could drive me to Richland Thursday? I’ll pay for gas and buy you dinner?”

“For your practice? Am I allowed to watch?”

I laughed. “Of course.”

“Then count me in.” She tugged me in for another hug, quick, but no less affectionate and my heart swelled. “Take a minute, Dahlia. Think about all you’ve done these last weeks and be proud of yourself.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wyatt

Thealertonmyphone announced the arrival of Dahlia’s Driving Test. I’d avoided a lot of contact with her over the last few days, but I’d insisted she get the exam rescheduled. I’d be swinging by her place and we’d take the ElCo out for a last practice run before heading to the DMV. She’d be taking the written and the road skills portions today.

And she’d pass. Not a doubt in my mind.

And once she had her license, she’d have no need for me. I’d have served my purpose. My grandmother would be pleased.

That made one of us.

Dahlia needed the test, needed her license. Needed to let go of the chokehold fear had had on her for too long. She’d conquered the fear, but the license would be the final FU to the painful memories.

A part of me wanted to think she needed me, too. The distance between us now painted a clear enough picture for me. The distance grated like an endless rattle in a car you just couldn’t eradicate. Inescapable and annoying. And fucking aggravating for pointing out the impact Dahlia Whitcombe had had on my life.

I’d come to expect to see her every day. To suffer through her dry chicken, to resist her flower tea and to savor chattering soundtrack. It fuckin’ pissed me off how much I missed her.

But I’d put the distance between us. Barely a word exchanged since I’d bolted from her front door. I’d manned up enough to make sure this damn test happened, but anything more?

Just a fuck.

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