Page 62 of Hit the Ground
No matter how long the road was, I’d walk it.
Chapter Twenty-four
Alice
Mythumbwassodarn black, I was ready to rip up my whole yard and replace it with pebbles. I wanted bright, pretty flowers growing everywhere. Instead, I had dandelions and clover. Not to mention the hundreds of dollars I’d spent on perennials that had bloomed once then never again.
On my knees in the dirt, I sighed, swiping my sweat-beaded forehead. This was hopeless. It was probably better to give up on my front yard for the day and expend the rest of my energy on something else.
As soon as the thought had entered my mind, the distinct rumble of a pickup truck approached down my quiet street. As it slowed, I turned, surprised to recognize the oversized white vehicle then momentarily panicked.
Caleb was parking his truck at my curb, and I was a sweaty mess. I also didn’t have a drop of makeup on, and I had thrown my hair on top of my head in a messy bun. Not to mention, I was only wearing cutoff jean shorts, a worn-out college tee, and no bra. And I was almost certain I’d just smeared dirt across my forehead.
He climbed out of his truck, circled it, then grinned at me on the ground. My heart did a painful twist, rattling the bars of its cage, and I couldn’t seem to get my limbs to cooperate to stand up.
“Hey, Allie,” he called as he made his way down my walk. “Doing some gardening?”
“Hey.” I waved my spade at him. “Yes, I’m trying, but I think I’m failing.”
When he reached me, he offered a hand. I let him pull me to my feet then quickly took my hand back, retreating a couple steps.
Caleb didn’t miss any of this. His mouth flattened into a thin, hard line.
“How are you?” he asked. “How was it being back at Joy’s?”
I tried to stuff my hands in my back pockets, but the casted one got stuck, so I let them fall to my sides.
“I’m really good, actually. I think getting back into my routine has done me well. I feel almost normal. Your mom’s been a big support. So, that’s…” There weren’t really words for Elena. She was like an extra backbone and beacon, guiding me through. I kept waiting for nightmares and panic attacks—both of which I’d had plenty growing up—but they hadn’t come. If I’d had Elena around back then, I felt I would’ve fared a whole lot better. “Well, you know what she’s like.”
“I do. There’s no one like her.”
He nodded a few times, and that was when I noticed he’d gotten a haircut. His long hair was tidy, skimming his collar, but still long enough in the front to tuck neatly behind his ears. His beard had been shaped up too. I could see his lips when he spoke and his straight, white teeth when he smiled.
He noticed me checking him out, and his big hand brushed along the back of his head.
“I made a stop at the barber this morning. Long overdue.”
“It looks great, Caleb. I liked the long hair too, but like this…I can see your smile.”
“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “I’ll be sure to keep up the trims.”
“Okay.” What was happening right now? “Did you need something else?”
He glanced toward his truck then back to me, almost like he was debating with himself. Finally, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out something flat, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with a thin piece of twine.
“This is for you. I found it in the ranch’s resort store and thought of you.” He held it out, palm open.
I hesitated before taking it. The last thing I needed was another gift from this man. It was bad enough I was reminded of him every time I looked at the little pot on my desk at work. But I couldn’t help my curiosity. The paper crackled as I untied the string and peeled it away, revealing a slim bookmark made of clear acrylic with a pink tassel on top. Pressed inside were tiny wildflowers—purple, white, and yellow—arranged like a miniature bouquet frozen in time.
“It was made by a local artisan,” he said quietly. “The flowers grow up on the ridge trail this time of year.”
I traced a fingertip over the cool acrylic, the little petals still vivid despite their stillness. “This is…I mean, I don’t even…” I shook my head. “Why?”
His jaw worked, like he wasn’t sure how to answer. “I wanted you to have flowers.”
“Caleb…”
He held up his hands. “It’s not a bouquet. Not yet. But I saw it and thought you’d like looking at it when you’re reading.”
