Page 175 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
No words form.
“Go ahead. You do you, Hart.” She stares out the side window. “You’ve always done what’s best for Hart.”
I hate the dismissive way she says it. I hate every fucking thing about it, and she’ll never understand that.
My jaw clenches for the rest of the ride. There goes my plan to stop fighting with her. The sound of the engine is the only thing between us and the thick, suffocating silence.
I turn down the air when I see her wrap her arms around herself, shivering.
She’s soaked, cold.
It hits me worse than any punch Bronx had swung. Seeing her like this, helpless. But I can’t do more than turn down theair because I have no damn right. After all, she’s right. Instead of fighting for her, I split.
I park at the hardware store, and still nothing.
Good.
Inside, the fluorescent lights hum overhead. The faint smell of rubber and fresh plastic greets us. I notice her shoulders stiffen when the air conditioning blasts us.
We move quickly and silently, dodging the occasional glance and not daring to make eye contact. My jaw stays tight. Her lips press together in a thin line, and now and then, she wipes her arms, as if trying to brush off the cold.
At the checkout, she walks outside to the truck without a word.
I stay behind, feeling the pull of the tension tug at my chest. I throw the items on the counter, and as the worker is putting them through, I notice a clearance rack with flannel and work pants.
I grab a couple of pieces of each to tack them on the bill. That’s when I notice the end display of clipboards. Hers was destroyed in the fall. Snapped in half. It’s not for me to replace it, but damned if I don’t grab it anyway. At the least, I can give it to Natalie to give to her.
She helps me load everything into the truck, and we’re off on that detour again, both quiet and her shivering.
The sun is starting to set, and when that familiar path with the grass somewhat flattened by off-road vehicles comes into view, I turn without flicking on the blinker.
She grabs the door handle.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to see, Hart. I want you to tell me.”
“When I was young, my folks would bring us to the rodeo every year with the twins.”
“You have a real knack for randomly sharing with me.”
“While Sammy and Sterling couldn’t be dragged away from the rodeo, the rest of my siblings were ready to explore.”
She folds her arms with a loud sigh, staring straight ahead.
The truck bounces over uneven ground. Tall grass lines both sides of the path.
I slow the truck as the trees part. Beyond is a secluded pond nestled between the branches. I cut the engine.
It’s quiet here. Perfect for us.
“And this is where we came to hang out.”
She looks at the pond, then back at me. “Okay.”
She’s gonna make me work for it. I deserve that.
