Page 42 of One Chance to Stay
Amanda: Bigger than Bigfoot!
“Seamus?”
I reached behind me to find the bed empty. Rolling over, he had made his side of the bed, erasing evidence that he spent the night as the little spoon. The sun had yet to climb over the horizon, leaving the room bathed in murky twilight. At the foot of the bed, my clothes laid neatly folded.
“You’re sweet,” I mumbled. “Or obsessive-compulsive.”
Staring at the ceiling, I had a moment to process. I had gone from a one-time drunken play date to having sex with a man.Experimenting with my sexuality hadn’t been on my vacation Bingo sheet. Neither was I confessing that I wanted to do it again.
I couldn’t blame my cock for being a rambunctious scamp. It had everything to do with this stonewalled man who letme, of all people, see through the facade. Last night, while we ate lasagna in our underwear, I caught him smiling and the fullness in my chest…
“Am I catching the feels?”
I came to Firefly to figure out the next phase of my life. Who knew I wouldn’t be taking this journey alone? I’m sure I’d overanalyze and worry that I misplaced my need for change and projected it onto Seamus. Did it matter, though? As I stretched, I couldn’t help but smile. A genuine, from the depths of my chest, kind of smile.
I hopped out of bed, wanting to track down the early riser. Sliding on my clothes, I almost dashed out of the bedroom when I turned around, flattening the blankets. If nothing else, Seamus reinforced my lack of manners. If he was willing to spend the night playing with my penis, the least I could do was check the duvet corners.
Coffee. The bold smell smacked me in the face. Good thing, too. If he expected me to be up with the sun, he better be prepared to put on at least two pots. I’d need every ounce of liquid energy. It might also have something to do with us staying up all night. At least I had a few more items to check off my “Never thought I’d do this” list.
As I walked into the kitchen, it lacked a burly mountain man. In the middle of the table, he placed a single mug. The words “World’s Greatest Dad” had all but faded. The handle had a small chip, making me think it had been a gift from Grace decades ago. Seamus, you sentimental softie. Every gesture,every keepsake, told a story much different from the straight face he showed the world. Tiny acts served as revelations.
Seamus kicked up a tornado of feels.
I poured myself a cup of coffee in search of my elusive host. After I searched the first floor, I looked to see if he had left for work. Sliding on my jacket and boots, I stepped onto the porch. The crisp air filled my lungs, forcing me awake and alert.
His truck hadn’t moved. “Where are you?”
The sky had transitioned from a dull blue to hues of pink and orange. The sun promised to chase away the night. If only it could do the same for the cold. I cupped the mug with both hands as a shiver ran down my spine. I was about to flee to the warmth of Seamus’s living room when I spotted a family of deer.
“What?”
I followed the tracks from the front porch to the man standing along the wooden fence separating his property from the field. Wrapped in a flannel jacket and bright orange cap, he stood frozen like an ice sculpture. The deer remained focused on him as they slowly approached.
He reached into his pocket. The deer froze. When his hand came out, their heads perked up, ears fluttering. He held his hand out, otherwise unmoving. I sipped from the mug, mesmerized by Seamus’s morning ritual.
I gasped as the largest of the deer reached Seamus. The deer inspected his hand before digging in. Food. Seamus had brought the family of four their breakfast. The others were more wary, waiting for a cue that it was safe to approach.
Fixated, I moved slowly until I sat on the front step. He reached into his pocket, and the doe froze until he produced another handful of food. Two stepped beside the mom, feasting on his upturned hand. They jostled one another, arguing over who got the next bite.
If that wasn’t enough to spark awe, his hand returned to his pocket. He dropped to one knee, eye-level with the fawn. When one of the bigger deer moved in, he gently batted them away. The fawn buried its face in his palm. While it munched, Seamus ran his hand along the space between its ears.
Seamus’s gruff demeanor had been reserved for people. For a moment, I considered grabbing my phone and snapping a photograph. No, I wanted to cherish this, keep it locked away between us.
The fawn licked his cheek.
Without thinking, I wiped the welling tears from my eyes. I could have spent the night asking a thousand questions. Knowing his childhood or his favorite color paled in comparison to this. As he gave the fawn a pat on the ass, sending it away, I saw his heart on display.
He got to his feet as the deer lingered. As he traipsed toward the house, the deer followed for a moment before realizing breakfast had ended. I didn’t know what to say. Thank you? Did I gush about his ability to connect with animals? Seamus stopped in front of the steps, looking down at me.
Brushing his hands off on his jeans, he gestured to the door.
“Don’t track snow in the house.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, a roar that had the deer confused. With a single sentence, Seamus restored the status quo. When his eyebrow crept up his head, it only made me laugh harder. The sun poked above the mountains as my maniacal laughter filled the landscape.
If they weren’t there before, the feels had come flooding in.
It’d be an interrogation more worth airing on an episode ofCrime & Consequences.As I got out of the car, Evelyn stood on the porch, wrapped in an oversized shawl. I thought about getting back in and peeling out of the driveway. If I didn’t seize control now, they’d rewrite the narrative, and rumors would fly. By evening, half the town would think I left because of bedbugs, while the others believed me a covert operative running a sting.
