Page 16 of Delayed Intention

“It’s a good thing you’re cute girl, because you smell like shit. I love you too much to leave you behind, but damn, Ginger.”

When I rescued her, she was terrified of everything, and I worried she would become aggressive.

I’d had no experience with border collies, but my last dog was part pit bull.

It turns out Ginger is brilliant and was easily trained from the beginning.

Now, I think part of her genius is that I’m the one who was trained.

I reach over and scratch behind her brown and white spotted ear.

It probably says something pathological about me that I only have a few women consistently in my life, and that the only one I’m not related to is a dog.

Whatever —Ginger has my heart.

My phone rings, and I check the display on my dash to screen for one of my angry exes.

Catching me off guard, Lily’s name pops up on the screen.

So far, we’ve only exchanged emails and letters.

I haven’t heard her voice in years. Not exactly an ex and not angry, as far as I know, but for some reason, I’m edgy and hesitate before answering.

Don’t be a chicken shit .

Psyching myself up, I tap the screen on my dash after closing the windows so I can hear.

“Hello, Lily.”

“Hello, Josh.” Hearing her voice feels odd but familiar at the same time. I realize she is not saying anything, and I wonder if the call dropped since I’m currently driving on I-80.

“You there? Did I lose you?”

“I’m here. Sorry, it’s surreal to hear your voice.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” I smile at the coincidence, even though she can’t see me. “You ready for your trip out?”

“I am—I’m staying at some mini-cabin off Elkhorn. If I remember, that’s the main street, right? Right beyond the downtown area? I forgot to check, are you near downtown or outside of town?”

“I am in town—on the river, close to the movie theater, if you remember it?”

“I do. Wow, I haven’t thought about that place in years.”

For some reason, I’m driven to steer the conversation away from memory lane.

“What day do you arrive again?” I cringe to myself because I know the answer, and she knows I know the answer. I’m just filling airtime with words, and I’m not sure why. What the hell is wrong with me?

“November 4. I’ve already done my early ballot,” she laughs, and something moves in my chest at the sound. Shit .

“Great, are you renting a car?” You know she isn’t—why the fuck are you being weird?

But I’m lost in my head, remembering that second to last summer we spent here. As if it were yesterday, I remember sitting next to Lily in that theater, missing the film because I was too busy daring myself to hold her hand but too afraid to do anything about it.

“Sorry, I thought I mentioned it in my email. I’m taking a shuttle to Estes.

I don’t think I can handle driving past Boulder.

” She had sent me detailed information about her plans, but I am struggling to be normal and grasping for what to say.

She giggles, and I have an urge to either fake laugh or hang up on her. I’m legit having palpitations.

“Great. Well, text me when you get in and we can grab dinner and map out our week.” My heart feels like it is about a half-mile ahead of me on the road.

“Okay, will do.” She sounds so at ease and cheerful. Meanwhile, I’m freaking the fuck out.

“Great,” I said great twice . Ginger, sensing danger, is suddenly on alert and looking out the car window and over at me. She barks, and I glare at her, Benedict Ginger.

“Is that a dog?” Lily asks, not unreasonably, apparently having no idea that I want nothing more than to end this call and unpack whatever the fuck is happening to me.

“Yeah, that was Ginger.” I sound so breathy; do I always sound like this? “She thought we were in danger.” Shut up. Just shut up forever.

She laughs again, this charming, sweet sound, and my gut is doing something that feels both good and unpleasant at the same time.

Like the first drop on a roller coaster after a big climb: you know it is supposed to feel fun, but why did you pay to feel like your life could be in danger?

I haven’t found that feeling works for me.

“Why would she think that? Are you in danger?” Apparently .

“No, no danger. Hey, listen, I have to go, but I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.” Smooth Josh, now she sounds worried, but I’m in full-on survival mode, and I need this call to end. “See you soon then.”

“See you soon.” I pressed to end the call like I just diffused a bomb. Maybe I did.

I pull into a gas station to grab a coffee and think. Letting Ginger out to do her business, I stand there stunned. She returns to sit at my feet.

“What the hell was that?” Ginger whines and just looks at me. “You were no help,” I grumble at her. Sensing I am starting to relax, she wags her tail and hops back into the truck.

Bells chime over my head as I pull the door and head into the station. Working to slow my heart rate, I fix my decaf coffee with sugar. I walk out after paying, continuing to try to process my reaction to Lily.

When I get back into the truck, Ginger cocks her head at me, tongue lolling to the side.

I pour some water into her travel bowl, which she laps up while I think for a minute.

It has to be a muscle memory from hearing her voice.

One word, and I turned back into a clumsy fourteen-year-old with a crush.

Sipping my coffee, I absently pat Ginger on the head.

Okay, I got that weird reaction out of the way, I hope.

I started an audiobook I had downloaded for the drive—a fantasy about a social worker for magical children that Michelle recommended.

It’s distracting enough that I put Lily and my response to her voice out of my head.

I feel myself start to relax as the brown, flat plains and distant horizons give way to the enclosure of a narrowing road, followed by steeper mountains and rocky hillsides.

By the time the trees turn to pines and the air cools, I’ve nearly put Lily out of my mind.

Two hours later, I’m pulling into my driveway. Ginger hops out to go sniff the perimeter, as is her habit. I grab my duffle and head in, scooping up my mail from the basket behind the door.

On top of the stack I’ve collected, there’s a letter from Lily.

I rub a spot between my brows with the heel of my free hand as Ginger runs past me into the house.

I put the letter on the desk by the front door and moved inside.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I feel the urge to regain a sense of distance.

I move the letter to the bottom of the pile and walk away.