Page 79

There’s more smoke than there ought to be coming from the stack when I break through the tree line on my return from the little fishing trip. My steps falter as I run through the possibilities. That wouldn’t be my father. He’d understand that I need space.
There’s only one person that could be. Providence. I guess it’s a good thing that I kept both of the trout on my stringer. Steeling myself for what’s coming, I take a deep breath and the next step toward the cabin.
Aaron is standing at the stove when I push open the door. He glances at the trout, nods his approval, and then, just as quickly, returns his attention to his dinner prep. “Those will go great with dinner.”
The simple, matter-of-fact greeting is so not the reception I was expecting. My brain suffers a major malfunction because of how… normal Aaron is acting.
Aaron turns and holds out a tray to me, and my system comes back online. I set the fish down on the tray but otherwise remain where I am, still at a loss for words.
I don’t understand. Aaron is acting as though Maxen didn’t just blow up our entire world. “What are you doing here, Aaron?”
He stops chopping the potatoes he must have brought and leans against the stove handles. “I guess I just needed a friend and thought maybe you could use one too.”
A few drops of rain ping on the tin roof, indicating a coming shower and making me glad I came back when I did. They also mean neither one of us will be leaving for a while.
“I don’t understand. How can you even stand to be in the same room with me after the things that Maxen said?”
Aaron puts the knife down and turns in my direction. “Sadie, you did nothing wrong. Nothing. If either one of us should be angry, it should be you. Everything Maxen said about me was true. That means I’ve lied to you all these years. If anything, you should want to kick me out.”
He gives me his back again as he picks up the knife and resumes cutting vegetables, adding softly, “And I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
Aaron turns his face to the side, cutting his eyes to me. “What for?”
“For not seeing. I never knew.”
My friend grins sadly. “I wasn’t ready for you to see. I might never have been ready. I think I was scared.”
I take a step closer now, not quite believing what I’m hearing. “You afraid? You’re never afraid of anything.”
“Yes, I am. I’m afraid of losing you. I’ve always been afraid of losing you.”
“But I’m–”
“You’re Sadie. Human. Warrior. Friend. Nowhere in the manual does it say that you have to be perfect.”
Damn these men that can read my mind. “Aren’t you worried that every time you look at me, you’ll see him, hear what he said?”
“A little, but I’m more afraid of never seeing or talking with you again.”
Thunder sounds in the distance, and the rain falls harder on the metal roof. “Aaron, I don’t know me anymore. I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
“You know me, Sadie. You know me in every way that you’ve always known me. And now, you know me a little better. Look, I’m not asking anything of you. You be the woman you’ve always been. Let me be the man I’ve always been.”
Aaron returns to the stove once more. “Now, do you want to clean the trout, or should I?”
Feeling like I’m lost in the twilight zone and needing some space to think, I grab the tray and the fish knives and step outside.
The rain, pouring now, spills from the porch’s shed roof like a beaded curtain all around the edges. I sit at the small table and scale the two fish before trimming and fileting them. Holding the fresh fish filets in my hands, I stretch my arms out under the cold rain to rinse off any remaining scales.
I do the same to clean off the tray and tools and then take everything back inside. Aaron pulls the pan of potatoes out of the oven and sets it on top to sauté with a bit of butter, garlic, and parsley.
Aaron is his typical self, making me wonder if I’ve been worrying too much. If Aaron can get past this, I have to, as well. The alternative would be like punishing him worse than he’s already experienced
Clearing my throat to gather some nerve, I pull out a second iron skillet and set it out for the fish. “I don’t think this little cabin has ever seen such gourmet cooking before. You’ve always been a food snob, though. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I’m not a food snob,” he counters. “Ever since the Corps, I just like my food to have a little taste.”