Page 82 of Fall for Me

I turned around, fumbling for the cupboard and praying she hadn’t seen—I hadn’t bothered tying up my robe, and I was just wearing a pair of loose gray sweats. It was embarrassing, her effect on me, and I didn’t want her to think sex was all I was thinking about. My feelings ran deeper than that.

“Can you stay for a bit?” I asked, reaching for a pair of mugs.

She glanced away. “Actually, I promised my dad I’d meet up with him this morning.”

I was surprised at the pang of disappointment I felt at that.

“I have a bit of time before then, though?” she said.

“How much is a bit?” I had visions of forgetting the coffee and carrying her back to my bed.

“An hour maybe?”

Over the gurgle of the coffeemaker, I heard the coo of the chickens. I needed to let them out. I poured two coffees, then turned around. She was sitting at the table, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were almost white. There was definitely something up. I fought the sinking feeling in my gut. It’s fine. This wasn’t supposed to be anything, anyway.

As much as I wanted her to stay, I couldn’t expect to fix whatever Chelsea might be feeling by holding onto her. I knew that.

I remembered that night on the ridge, when she’d looked out over the view, telling me she preferred sunrises to sunsets. An old pain tugged at me, hard and fast. I felt the words coming before I knew what they were going to be.

“How about a walk to see the sunrise? I know a good place, only about ten minutes up the hill.”

I never sought out the sunrise—it hurt too much. But I knew it was the right thing to have said when Chelsea visibly relaxed. Clearly, she’d been feeling the awkwardness and pressure of sorting out her feelings about whatever this morning after would look like. “Yes,” she said. “I’d love that.”

After pouring our coffee in travel mugs and throwing on our clothes, I led Chelsea out the back door, opening the coop on the way.

The girls clucked excitedly, stepping out onto their ramp. “Hello again, Muffin,” Chelsea said, peering through the fence at her feathery nemesis. It was cold enough that the plume of her breath was visible in the still-moonlit morning.

I laughed softly, but my eyes were already on the horizon, navy blue, over the hill behind my house. This time of year, sunrise happened by the time I was already safely in the office, or on the weekend, doing something around the house.

A memory hit me, so hard and fast I nearly stumbled.

Kevin, shaking my shoulder. Come on dude, wake up. My eyes opened to the glint of moonlight off the tackle on his fishing vest. It’s the best time to get the catch.

“You okay?” Chelsea asked.

I realized I’d stopped at the edge of the trail. “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my neck.

I was. That was all ancient history. This was now, with Chelsea.

As we trekked over to the trail leading up the slope, with our feet crunching on the frosty path, Chelsea asked me about Winona, and why she’d bolted last night.

“She didn’t grow up in the most loving home,” I said. When I met Winona, she’d just moved here. Her mom was American and had a great-aunt who lived in Quince Valley, but her stepfather had never let them see her. She told me her he’d been physically abusive, and it had only gotten worse after her mom passed. The moment she turned eighteen, Winona had run in the night, taking her two half-brothers, who were only eight and ten at the time, with her. They’d lived with the elderly aunt until she passed, but it was Winona who raised the boys.

I didn’t say all that to Chelsea—it wasn’t my story to tell, but she got the drift. Violence and Winona didn’t mix.

“I hope she didn’t think Eli would actually hurt you. Again, I mean.”

I rubbed my lip, where the split had healed. “He didn’t really hurt me,” I said. “And he wasn’t going to hit me again last night.” I knew that was the truth. Eli may have a temper, but he had no malice.

“I need to have a long talk with him,” Chelsea said.

Up ahead, the top of the hill was visible—it wasn’t a long walk, as I lived so close to the top already. Thin blue light was visible between the trees.

“So do I,” I said quietly. “He said some unacceptable shit about you last night.”

“But he wasn’t lying.”

I recalled Eli’s words. You chew men up and spit them out.

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