Brian ran fifty feet of the gravel trail in front of Spring cabin, turned and ran back the same fifty feet, then repeated the loop yet again. The circles he was sprinting in front of Katelyn’s abode were ridiculous and embarrassing—and mimicked the circles of his racing thoughts, which always and forever seemed to roll back to her.
It had only been a few days since his very public breakfast meeting with Naomi, where the plans regarding his move had been so clumsily spilled—and so completely misinterpreted by Katelyn—but it felt like ten years. He missed her. Their runs. Their talks. Their time with the kids doing weird crafts, reading stories, and going for walks. Their movie nights and laze about, do nothing times. He missed everything to do with her. Even her strange little rat-dog, Monster.
He still agonized about his decision to stop and talk to Callum instead of clearing things up with Katelyn right away. The minute he realized she had jumped to the erroneous conclusion that he and Naomi were a couple, he’d started going back and forth, back and forth, much like he was jogging now. Should he tell her that Naomi was just his potential landlord? No, he should let her think he’d moved on. No, he should tell her right away. No, it was best to let her think he’d moved on. . . .
When Callum interrupted him, he’d taken it as a sign he should let her leave, let her think he’d taken up with Naomi, let her focus on whatever she needed to do to put her life together. After all, hadn’t she made it clear to him that was what she wanted? And hadn’t he been actively seeking a way to build a wall and give her the space she asked for? Just living further apart was an easy problem to circumvent. They both had vehicles. But him having a girlfriend that he’d moved in with? Well, that would close the door. It just would.
So why the hell was he running loops in front of her cabin like a lunatic? Because he hated lying to her, that’s why. And omitting known facts, letting a false interpretation stand, was still a lie, no matter how he tried to rationalize it. And it was disrespectful. He wouldn’t treat her like she was incapable of doing what she needed to do, or imply she was too weak to stand by her resolve by holding things back from her or manipulating her with half-truths.
And also, the thought replayed yet again, like the refrain to a song you can’t get out of your head, he missed her.
On that note, he increased his stride, took her stairs in one bounding leap, and knocked loudly on her door before he could overthink it or chicken out.
There was a flutter of movement as the curtain that shielded a window by the door shifted. Weird. She was peeking out to see who was there? The door opened a crack, and Katelyn appeared, wedged in the small opening. “Oh, it’s just you,” she said, sounding weirdly relieved, though not exactly pleased.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just me. Disappointed?”
Their eyes met and held. Katelyn inhaled a slightly shaky breath, then reached out and pressed her hand to his chest. “Not in the slightest. Thrilled, actually.”
“Thrilled, hey?” Brian laughed in relief—and at her use of such an exuberant word when her body language suggested anything but. He removed her hand from his chest and rubbed it between his palms. She was cold or upset or something. Would she let him in?
“I’m sorry. It’s probably a bad time, and I know things are awkward between us, but, well, I missed you.”
She sighed, gave a sad smile and nodded. “Ditto.” Then she stepped back, shook her head, and stretched like she was trying to wake up and shake off a bad dream. “Do you want to come in?”
“Do I.”
“Ditto. Do I. Those are the exact same things we said the first time you ever dropped by to see me.”
Brian grinned too broadly for the small joke, but he felt so . . . ridiculously happy. “Yep, we’re wordsmiths all right.”
Katelyn closed and locked the cabin door the instant he entered, and Lacey and Sawyer’s elfin faces popped over the banister above his head.
“It’s just Brian,” Katelyn said. “Come on down. I’ll make us a snack.”
The kids tumbled over themselves to get to the fridge first, wanting to help, and once Katelyn had them busy—Sawyer stirring a dip for carrot and celery sticks, Lacy taking the waxy wrappers off mini round cheeses—Brian lowered his mouth to Katelyn’s ear. “Just Brian again? I have to say the word ‘just’ used in relation to me twice in such close succession is hurtful.”
Yes, it was a lame attempt to be funny. He couldn’t help it. He was off his game because he was wishing so hard that she’d step into his arms, so he could hug her and press his face into her hair—
Oh yeah, this whole creating and maintaining distance thing was working fantastically. He shook his head at himself.
Katelyn turned—and because he’d moved close to whisper to her, she was deliciously near. “I promise you . . . I meant nothing mean or dismissive with that word.” Then she spoke again and the warm feeling her nearness always triggered in Brian froze and cracked. “I thought you were Steve.”
Ice moved through his veins. So it hadn’t been his imagination at the door. She was acting strangely. What had happened? Something, obviously. He opened his mouth, but she pressed a finger to her lips and tilted her head in the direction of the kids. He nodded and didn’t say a word.
“Hey, guys.”
Lacey and Sawyer looked up from their food prep.
“I’m going outside to talk to Brian for a minute. You can start eating, okay?”
“Can we have two cheeses each?” Lacey asked.
“I don’t know. You two don’t even like cheese that much,” Katelyn teased, but there was still something off about her vibe, something Brian couldn’t quite place.
“Yes, we do. We love it,” Sawyer said in a serious tone.
Katelyn smiled at him fondly. “Yes, you guys may have two cheeses each, but that’s it, no more. And lots of yummy veggies, right?”
“Right!” they cheered and returned their attention to their snack, more interested in the acquisition of cheese than any boring conversation their mom was set on having.
Out on the porch, Katelyn motioned for Brian to take the large rocking chair. Then she pushed the door shut firmly and leaned against it.
“Nothing has happened, but . . . ”
“But?” he prodded.
She closed her eyes and spoke in a tense whisper. “I’ve asked Steve for a divorce—and Marilee called just as I was getting off work earlier. He was served with the papers today and didn’t handle it well. The bailiff recommended she warn me, and he called the cops about it too.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, pounding her clenched fist lightly against her mouth.
It was hard to think. “So what now?”
She shrugged and took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was too calm. “We wait, I mean, I wait. It might blow over, might be nothing.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then I cross that bridge when I come to it.”
Brian shook his head. “No, you were right the first time.”
Katelyn bit her lip and one of her eyebrows arched.
“Not ‘I.’ You’re not alone. We. You and me. Us. Whatever happens between us or doesn’t, we’re friends. You aren’t alone.”
Katelyn pressed a hand over her eye. Brian stood up and opened his arms to her. She walked into them. She didn’t sob or wail or even make a sound, but his sweatshirt grew damp beneath her cheek. He rubbed her back in small circles and wondered how many times she, not wanting to alarm her children, had wept silently or kept herself rigidly under control. Please be okay, he begged in his head, be okay, be okay, be okay.
Katelyn seemed to have a child awareness chip inserted in her heart that cued her to how long she had until she was needed, even when distraught. After a long moment—but not so long, Brian knew, that the kids would start to question—she pulled back and looked up at him.
“Better?” he asked.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe. A bit.” Then she added, “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“I’d love to. Want to take the kids for a walk first? Burn off their snack and some energy before bed?”
She smiled and nodded, but looked deeply, deeply sad.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
As she pulled the door open and they moved to go back inside, Brian heard a car start up and rev hard. He jogged to a break in the trees to see who the jerk was, but only caught the rear end of a blue hatchback disappearing at Mach speed around the first bend in the driveway. No doubt one of Jo and Callum’s constantly coming and going guests. He’d have to suggest that they post a “Slow” sign in the parking area, just in case. There were always kids around, not just Sawyer and Lacey, and it wasn’t merely a liability issue. It would be horrific if anyone got injured at River’s Sigh.