Page 77 of V is for Valentine
She turned to look at Danny, who shook his head and said, “I don’t know where this leaves us, other than out of time.”
Nor did she. The head explosion was still a possibility. It beat bursting into frustrated tears.
She started to speak, but he simply raised his hand. “I’ll give you your distance. Go to Seattle. Think things through. Ignore any small messages I may have left you.”
“Small messages?”
“Never mind. The next move is yours.”
Her move. Excellent.
What now?
Danny took a few easy backward steps as she remained frozen in place. Nothing was working out according to plan and now the door was banging against the side of the house.
“Go,” he said.
“Fine,” she muttered as she turned and trudged up the sidewalk to the house. When she glanced over her shoulder, Danny was already over the fence and crossing the yard to his porch.
She watched him go, fighting stupid tears. Tears of frustration, not loss.
Right.
“Sorry about that,” she said to her father after coming inside and closing the door behind her. It was all she could do not to lean her head against the heavy wood. She cleared her throat and hoped her voice sounded normal as she said, “Danny won’t be able to come to work tomorrow. We were discussing.”
“Couldn’t he have texted?”
“Some things are better done in person,” she murmured. “Muff is going to take his place.”
“Good thing the nail guns are put away.” Her dad yawned and adjusted his blanket. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said lightly. “We’re ahead of schedule at the school. We’ll be fine.”
“I meant with Danny.”
“They’re great,” she lied. “Night, Dad.”
Felicity headed down the hall, telling herself that she was within her rights to dodge a parental third degree. She kicked off her boots and glanced at the clock before shrugging out of her coat. Ten minutes past midnight.
Another sucky Valentine’s Day.
*
After the lastdoor had been hung, the drop cloths packed away, the floors swept for the final time, the crew gathered around Pete and high-fived. Despite the many obstacles, his difficult project had been completed. On time.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said to Felicity, hugging her from the wheelchair.
“I’m glad to be part of it,” she murmured, swallowing back the emotional lump forming in her throat. “Don’t forget to pay Danny.”
He laughed, but it was strained. He knew something had happened between them, something outside of their normal bickering and tiffs, but bless him, he hadn’t asked. “Will do.”
“We should go, Feliss,” Stevie called from across the room. “It’s starting to snow.”
“Right.” Bertha the furnace kicked on and Felicity felt a poignant little stab as she realized that she would never be locked in a furnace room with Danny again.
As things were going, she half wondered if she would ever see him again.
She’d hoped that he would stop by the build to say goodbye again. Properly. He did not, because the next move was hers. She knew him well enough to understand how serious he’d been when he’d said that. As to small messages? She’d looked through the worksite upon arrival that morning, concentrating on the places he knew she’d be working and had found absolutely zero small messages.
