Page 40 of Till The Cows Come Home
“If you weren’t a mountain of a man, I wouldn’t need to climb a bucket.”
“Touche. Unfortunately, my little mountain climber, if you don’t leave soon, you’ll be late to work.”
“Shit.” Checking her phone, she confirmed the time, quickly scrambling to step back onto the bucket.
“Get over here,” I grumbled, scooping her under her ass until her feet left the ground, a small nudge of my foot sending the bucket rolling across the floor of the barn. “If I’m doing things right, you’ll never need that damn bucket again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sage
Aquick pit-stop at my apartment put me a few minutes later in my schedule than I’d liked, but I needed to change from my barn-tainted attire. When I finally crashed through the library doors, Jane stopped, staring at me wide-eyed, and I just smiled at her, mumbling morning pleasantries before jogging to the office to deposit my coat and bag. As always, I brewed myself a cup of coffee, sipping the caffeine as I savored the final few moments of quiet before opening.
Preparing for imminent chaos was a lost cause, but each day I attempted it anyway. Usually I chugged my coffee, grumbling about the mess or the schedule, but today was different. I felt as though, no matter what happened, everything would be fine, good even, and I tried not to overthink the optimism.
Thursdays weren’t historically busy days, most kids were in school or daycare, which allowed us time to organize. Most of the day was spent shelving and cleaning in preparation for the weekend disarray.
“You’re awfully peppy today.” Jane smirked, wiping down the board books that seemed to always be sticky, no matter how frequent their cleaning was.
“Yeah?”
I continued sorting books, stacking them alphabetically to ease their return.
“Would your improvement in mood have anything to do with the man you’ve been canoodling with?”
“I have not been canoodling with anyone,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low as a family entered the doors. Thankfully, they immediately headed to the back, slipping through the bookshelves out of hearing range.
“Really?” Jane challenged. “Because from what I heard, you were necking on the floor of a farmer’s market tent with said man.”
“Who told you that?”
I narrowed my eyes at Jane’s lack of response, thinking back to the only two people that knew. Although not certain, I was pretty positive Miles didn’t waltz in here to gossip with Jane, which left one person.
Ruby.
“That little?—”
Before I could finish my thought, the seemingly hidden family resurfaced in front of the desk, and as I checked their books out, I looked up, shooting daggers at Jane from across the room. She cackled in response, ignoring the raised brows of the parents as she disappeared into the back office.
Jane and I didn’t speak further about the subject due to a pack of toddlers that stormed through the library shortly after. Their untamed energy inciting an unruly tornado that lasted all day. My shift flew by in what seemed like scream-filled seconds and when I closed the doors for the day I was so ready to go home. Staying at Miles’ had put a kink in my usual routine and I knew once I arrived at my apartment, I’d have to handle the responsibilities I’d neglected, but I’d like to think it was worth it.
I was fully aware that something real with Miles wouldcomplicate every single part of my life, and the funny part was that I wasn’t sure I even cared. He had proved to me over and over that he wasn’t the person I’d created in my head and I felt myself accepting him, eager to finally start treating him like who he actually was, not like the illusion I’d imagined. Nostalgia had overtaken my drive home and before I even realized my mistake, I pulled up to the farm.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
This was no longer my home, even if Miles urged me to treat it as such, and that in itself was one of my biggest struggles with our dynamic. As soon as I walked back in for the first time, I wanted to take over, and had to constantly remind myself to stay in my lane. I kept driving, turning to take the back roads to get home, and my body slumped when I finally pulled into the lot outside my apartment.
Overwhelmed was an understatement.
The way I felt with him was something I’d never experienced, and I found myself conflicted. Did I want him or did I want the farm? But I knew if I longed for what was instead of what could be, I’d likely be left with neither.
Visiting the farm without assuming all its responsibility was a strange experience. It allowed my focus to be fluid, drifting from Blossom and Peaches, the market, and even to the man who lovingly urged me to dip my toe back into the world I once frequented.
It was freeing.
And as each day continued to pass, I became keenly aware that the present may actually be the true version of what I’d always wanted.
I walked through my door and my thoughts were immediately interrupted by the cats congregating on my balcony. Not even a single anxiety could penetrate through the chorus of mews loudly singing their displeasure regarding their missed meal time.
