Page 29 of Sustain

Maybe I’m just afraid.

I think deep down if I let myself, I could really care about Ian. The complexity of him makes me think it would be easy to love him. I would never be bored. I would always be discovering something new about him that I didn’t know before, and that would keep me interested. That’s a dangerous trait for me to find in someone else. If someone piques my interest, I tend to go all-in headfirst. I dive into the deep end without taking a deep breath, and the next thing I know I’m drowning.

I could drown in Ian Summer.

I’ve only been in love,trulyin love, once in my life. And it was the biggest mistake of my life. It was with a tour manager for a European boy band of all things. And for three months, I thought he was the end-all, be-all, of my world. He was so charming that I willingly handed over my heart. I let him in and let the idea of him, the idea ofus, take over and take hold. And when I finally gave in and said those three words to him, it changed everything.

Not only did he not say it back, but he acted surprised. He made it seem as if I read into things too deeply. I was seeing things that weren’t there. In reality, he was showing me emotions he didn’t feel, affections he didn’t return, and dreams he never dreamt, but convinced me were real. He made me think that he was in love whether he said the words or not.

He was a fucking liar. And I was a goddamn fool.

No longer am I anyone’s fool, and I don’t put up with liars at all. There is no‘Fool me twice’allowed. Nobody survives the first one. Not with me.

Since then, it’s been my mission to never get attached to anyone I’m intimate with. My heart is hidden away and out of reach of anyone who tries to deceive me again. I won’t let it happen. Outside of my body, everything is off-limits, and even then, I’m extremely careful.

In my experience, men confuse sex with love. Infatuation with emotion. Attention with attraction. And while sure, the lines can be blurry at times, I make a point to be crystal clear with everyone.

So why am I doubting myself with Ian? Why am I feeling those same stirrings in my chest whenever I see him?

I hold the fresh shirt to my nose and breathe in the scent of him. Alarm bells go off in my head and I’m tempted to ignorethem. They’re rusty from disuse. Maybe that fact alone should make me pay attention, and it’s hard not to.

All I need to do is remember looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror of the tour bus after that breakup years ago, and the broken look in my eyes. I swore to myself to never feel that way again. No one would ever wield so much power over me or my heart again. Nobody would have so much sway to cripple me with a word, or a dismissal, and I’ve been determined to keep that promise. That day wrecked me. My armor has since been rebuilt twice as thick, and I dare anyone to be that callous with my bruised spirit again.

But beneath the internal panic at the thought of letting that reinforced guard down stirs an impossible yearning to stop cowing and try trusting whatever thisthingis between us.

Letting out a long sigh I throw his shirt over my head, wrap myself again in the blanket, and use the crutches to return to the great room of the cabin. Ian is at the sink washing the breakfast dishes and I look out the sliding glass door at the storm. It’s relentless, and after so long I’m starting to wonder if it will ever stop.

Placing my fingertips on the glass, the chill seems to crawl up my fingers and into my bones. I think of Billy and everyone else out working in this weather and simultaneously feel bad and grateful. It’s people like him that keep the rest of us going. An unsung hero who probably doesn’t even know how many people he’s helping.

I glance down at the deck piled high with snow, and my eye catches on a dark mound in the corner. I lean in and press my forehead to the glass, my breath steaming the window as I try to see what it could be, but I can’t make it out.

“Ian, what is that?” I ask, pointing to the dark spot as he grabs a dish towel to dry his hands and walks over. He leans in close to me to get a better view of whatever it is.

“I don’t know,” he says squinting. “I think I see fur though. It must be some sort of animal.”

“Oh no, do you think it’s dead?”

He doesn’t even pause to answer and unlocks the door, slides it open, and then in his bare feet trudges through the snow to the pile of fur in the corner. I watch as he cautiously reaches out to touch it and must have some reaction, because he scoops it into his arms, cradles it close to his chest, and hurries back inside.

Shutting the door behind him, I follow as he immediately goes to sit on the hearth by the fire. “What is it? Is it OK?”

“It’s a cat, and I think it’s still alive but just barely. It’s got to be frozen.” Holding it close to his chest it still doesn’t move, and I worry we may be too late. “I need a towel or a blanket. Something to swaddle it in.”

Without thinking twice, I slip the blanket from around my shoulders and help in wrapping the cat who is now trembling and shaking. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. My mind jumps to thoughts that body temperature shouldn’t change so quickly but I think in this instance warmth is required.

“Did they cover freezing cats in Boy Scouts? Did you get a badge in that by any chance?” I’m not trying to be funny. As a matter of fact, I’m very serious. I want to be pacing or freaking out, but my crutches thankfully limit my movement.

“Unfortunately, no,” he says, finishing wrapping the cat, leaving its face and pink nose peeking out. Its eyes are still closed and my stomach sinks that we’re not doing enough. “I’m just running on instinct here. I’ve actually never had any pets, so I haven’t got the first clue as to how to take care of a healthy cat, let alone one in distress.”

His brows furrow with concern as he looks down at the bundle in his arms. He’s cradling it like a baby, and seeing him like this, in hero mode yet again, plucks at my heartstrings with such fervor I can almost hear a song.

After giving up my blanket I’m feeling useless to do anything to help, but my racing mind starts expanding its track. “Do you think that was the only one out there? Should we look for others just in case?” I start towards the sliding door to go look for myself when Ian jumps up from the hearth to stop me.

“Here, take it while I go look.” And the next thing I know, I’m taking his place by the fire with the cat in my arms while he rushes outside to look for more animals in need.

It’s hard to see him in the squall that surrounds him as he digs through the deep snow on the deck. After a few minutes, he’s back inside, looking almost as cold as the cat, but I see he doesn’t have any more companions this time.

“It appears that the popsicle in your arms is the only nearby victim.” He hurries back to the fire, sitting next to me and pulling his feet up to get warm. With his feet bare and being only in a T-shirt and sweats, he’s got to be freezing now, too.

---