Page 18 of The Bright Side of Brooding
“Hello.”
Somehow, only one word held all kinds of meaning.Helloactually meantWhat are you doing here?AndWhat do you need?AndWhat kind of fool leaves her coat when it’s thirty degrees outside?
I held out the bag while approaching, but I stopped a good five feet from him so I wouldn’t spook the cat, who simply lay on its side, tail flicking, watching me with those judgy feline eyes.
“I brought you some food. I’m guessing you’ve been out in the cold, and I had some stew in the Crock-Pot, so I just thought—” I broke off, the adrenaline from seeing him earlier and my good-idea-fairy visit flagging at the unchanged expression on his face.
Foolishness kicked at my ribs. The familiar feeling of trying to get someone to like me, to approve of me, and failing miserably, slipped around my neck and cut off any other words I might’ve said. I didn’t come here for that. I’d come to feed him. I’d come to help.
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
I blinked up at him, and the humiliation eased just a little. I swallowed but didn’t speak.
He studied me another moment, then said, “I’m just home for a few hours. I was going to heat up something frozen. This will be better.”
“I hope so,” I said, my voice weird and shaky.
He walked toward me, giving the cat’s leash slack so it wouldn’t have to move. If I hadn’t been completely overwhelmed by his approach, I might’ve laughed again at the oddness. But nothing in me laughed when he came close, especially not when he stopped inches from me and covered my hand that held the handles of the food bag with his own.
I stopped breathing. Despite being outside in the cold long before me, his hand still felt warmer than mine. And big. Maybe rough? Hard to tell in this scenario.
“You’re freezing. Better get back in.” His breath came out in little clouds, the edges of which nearly kissed my face.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to miss you if you were heading back. I ran out without my jacket.”
Looking at his face at close range, even in the waning light, proved to be a more affecting experience than I’d anticipated. The planes of his cheeks and jaw were hidden thanks to the dusk and the camo paint, but his eyes nearly glowed back at me.
“I’m glad you caught me,” he said, then his eyes flickered and he seemed to remember he still held onto the bag over my hand. His hold loosened, and I slipped my hand away.
“Me too.”
Neither of us stepped away. We stood there another minute, and then he said, “Your feast night is next weekend?”
Apropos of nothing, but okay, at least one of us could make conversation. Who’d have thunk it’d be him? “Yes. Are you coming? Are you—are you bringing someone?”
If I hadn’t already been studying his face, I might’ve missed his mouth pull to one side in the barest hint of a smile before he spoke. “I’ll be there. Just me.”
I pressed my lips together, suppressing what felt like what would’ve been a gigantic smile. “Good. I’ll make a note of it. See you then.”
He nodded, and I stepped back, then turned and jogged to my house, refusing to look back despite desperately wanting to.
I leaped inside and slammed the door, kicked off my boots, and stepped into my slippers. I went straight to the kitchen and got my own soup, refusing to think about how much I wished I’d just invited him over here. Or how I should’ve asked him about the cat. Or how ridiculous this crush had become on exactly zero encouragement.
Well, zero encouragement until the following letter. He’d left it on the porch sometime in the night before he went back to work, and I found it the next morning.
Ms. Applegate,
May I call you Summer? It feels too familiar to say your name, but it also feels a bit odd to continue insisting on being formal. I hope you’ll call me Nick. I’d like to hear you say my name.
I’m not sure what compels you to feed me, but whatever it is, I’m thankful for it. The stew was a dream in a bowl, as I knew it would be. To say my anticipation for the upcoming feast night is incessant would be a failure of imagination. I am hungry for it—for a night at your table. And, admittedly, the fellow guests, even the food, hold a secondary draw for me.
Stay warm and safe, Summer. See you soon,
Nick
