Page 39 of Ember Meadow
It’s unfair how much of an effect he has on me, even still. Why couldn’t he have been repulsive?
That’d make it much easier to convince myself it’s not a good idea. Even though it’s tempting to run over there as fast as I can and pick up where we left off four years ago, I have to remember he’s not the same Miles as before. New Miles doesn’t want to be around me at all, much less in that capacity.
I pull my gaze away from the back window, heading back to my laptop. I thought my other properties would be neglected during my time in Jackson, but it hasn’t been too bad. The cleaners we have worked with for years are great at turning over rentals, the guests have been relatively low maintenance, and no one at MacPherson Enterprises has come running to me asking for help with anything.
At this rate, I’ll be able to go on another hike with Codie and the girls again soon without the guilt of taking a step away from work eating at me from the inside out.
It takes me a few hours to update the books and check the rental calendar one last time to make sure reservations are all good to go. Then, I’m up again, painting the cabinets. The monotonous back and forth of the paintbrush darkening the pine wood relaxing my brain. This is why I love hands-on renovations.
Would I want to paint cabinets for a living? No.
Do I want to break up my usual work with some cabinet painting every couple of months? Absolutely.
I’m not sure how much time has gone by when the warm breeze returns, but it’s been about two cabinets worth. I freeze in my tracks, surveying the room.
A smudge of black catches my eye in the corner of the cabinet, where I haven’t quite reached yet. Another brand, burned into the wood. I squint my eyes, moving closer to see the shape, but all I can make out is it looks a little bit like a playing card–
“Oof,” I grunt quietly as my head runs right into the top of the cabinet. I back out a bit, checking to make sure I didn’t knock over my paint can in the process. It’s still standing upright, intact.
Glancing back to where the brand was in the cabinet, my breath catches in my throat. It’s gone. No matter how far I lean into the opening, I can’t see it anymore. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I shine the flashlight in the cabinet.
There’s not a trace of anything besides wood, and the paint I’ve been using.
I breathe out a shaky breath. The paint fumes must be going to my head. This whole cabin is going to my head.
As soon as I lift the paintbrush in my hand to start again, Miles bursts through the back door and into the kitchen. His eyes are wide, looking around frantically. His broad chest rises and falls quickly.
“What?” I say, startled.
“Are you okay?” Miles demands, his tone a little panicked.
“I’m fine, Autry. What’s wrong?”
“I heard you yelling. Is everything okay?” Miles runs a hand through his already mussed hair, replacing his ball cap.
“I wasn’t yelling,” I squint my eyes in confusion. He heard yelling? I haven’t heard anything but the silence of the mountains in hours. I wasn’t even listening to any music like usual.
“Yes, you were. I heard your voice. You were yelling my name.” Miles stands with his hands on his hips, looking just as confused as I feel.
“I swear I was not yelling. Seriously. I didn’t hear anything. Are you sure you’re not just getting senile?” I stand from where I was crouched on the floor, brushing off my overalls. Miles’s eyes track over my body, until he remembers I’m here and snaps his gaze back up to my face.
“Yeah, I get it, I’m old,” he deadpans. “I’m not messing around. I heard yelling.”
“Okay, well, I didn’t. I’m not sure what you heard, but it wasn’t me. And last time I checked,” I spin my arms around, gesturing to the empty room, “there’s no one near here.”
He sighs, rubbing his hand down his beard, a little longer than the last time I saw it up close. Now that I think about it, he does look a little run ragged. The slightest dark circles darken his eyes, and he just seems tired.
“Well, I’m sorry then. I really thought I heard you yelling.”
“That’s okay.” I shift on my feet, suddenly aware we are the only ones in the house. It’s like I forgot how to talk to him. I never have this problem with anyone else. “Are you okay? You look really tired.” I lift my arm to comfort him on instinct, but catch myself.
He huffs a laugh without a smile. “It’s been a week.”
“It’s only Wednesday.”
“I know.”
Miles pulls a chair out from the tiny table I use as my desk and sits. His large frame looks ridiculous in the tiny chair I barely even fit in. I’m pretty sure it was some sort of kids table the crew picked up on the side of the road just so I hadsomethingto work at until we get actual furniture in here. I don’t mind.
