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CALDER

Shane would barely look at me.

He was talking to me, so that was at least something .

But trying to keep eye contact with him seemed impossible, his gaze leaving as soon as it met mine.

It’d been like that ever since he’d fixed the generator and tried to get away from me as quickly as he could afterwards.

It was like Shane had become allergic to me overnight, everything about him a little more distant than usual.

Today, we were on a supply run to a ranching co-op.

We’d been riding in Shane’s car for hours, the sun setting behind us now.

I’d turned on the radio, letting country classics fill the silence between us, twangy guitars and heartfelt lyrics abounding.

And even though Shane wasn’t looking in my direction, I’d practically been staring at him, somehow trying to read his mind.

Suddenly, the truck bumped and banged.

“Shit.” Shane’s tone was calm, even as he cursed.

“What? What is it?” The trail ahead of us was muddy and narrow.

“We need to stop here for the night.” Shane was already pulling his truck off the road, headed for a clearing.

“Not worth it, as is. Last time I was over here, it was full of little cracks and ditches. Easy to avoid when you can see where you’re going.

Not so much when there’s mud everywhere.

It’ll probably be clear by the morning.”

“By the morning?” I pressed. “Wait. Does that mean we’re spending the night out here?”

“There’s no point in risking it. We’re not even halfway there.” Shane shrugged. “It’s annoying but that’s why I always have camping gear, just in case.”

A few minutes later and the car had come to a complete stop.

Shane casually leapt out of the truck and moved towards the back of it, pulling out various camping supplies.

I watched him as he worked, his confidence radiating off him like usual.

Shane didn’t seem rattled by the situation, at all, treating it like it was just another part of his workday.

“Has this happened to you before?” I asked, leaning against the truck.

“Never.”

“Always a first time for everything,” I muttered. “Do you need me to help? Grab stuff out the back?”

“I think I’m good here,” Shane replied. “But could you start building a fire? Wherever looks good to you. We can get started on setting up camp soon.”

He didn’t even look at me as he handed me some gear for the fire, his focus still on the back of the truck. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” My tone was deflated as I started looking around for somewhere to build the fire. I could’ve sworn I’d felt something between us, some kind of spark, but Shane made me feel like it’d all been in my head.

Maybe it is all in my head.

My very concerning, still not fully healed head.

That would’ve explained why I was attracted to Shane, despite the woman in the photo.

It would also explain the dream of him at the end of some trail, like a romantic end to some cowboy western.

Besides, it was more obvious than ever that Shane wasn’t interested in me, possibly less so now than ever before?—

Shit.

Maybe Shane knew exactly what I’d been thinking.

Maybe he just wasn’t interested in me the same way.

Is this Shane’s way of blowing me off?

I got on my knees with the supplies Shane had given me, setting the kindling up a few inches away. When it was ready, I lit a match, tossing it onto the sticks in front of me. I blew gently at the base of the fire once I saw the first few flames licking at the wood?—

But just like that, the fire was gone, the wind blowing it right out of existence.

I couldn’t help but let out a pained laugh, the situation resembling the one between me and Shane a little too closely.

I lit the match again, and the same thing happened, the wind taking it all within seconds.

I laughed again, like a maniac, as I tried to keep the fire going for the umpteenth time.

The universe seemed to have a sense of humor, and a dark one at that.

“Uh, you okay over here?” Shane’s voice interrupted my moment of madness.

“Just trying and failing to start a fire.”

“Here. Let me try.” Shane crouched down next to me, soon lighting a match of his own. He then stacked logs on top of the fire, parallel to each other, before adding more on top of them. It was something I hadn’t even thought to do, probably another result of my memories still being fuzzy and faded.

“Is this just how it’s going to be now?” I murmured, suddenly feeling tired and worn. “Sometimes, I know exactly how to do things. And other times, what, I’m just hopeless?”

“Worse comes to worst, you can always learn again, Calder. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nope. But there is something wrong with me?—”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Calder.” Shane finally looked over at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re not your condition, you know.”

“Are you done being mad at me? Or whatever this is?” I was grateful for his gaze, some part of me feeling calmer for it.

“I was never mad at you.”’

“You wouldn’t even look at me, Shane.”

“That wasn’t—it’s not—” Shane started and stopped. “Look, do you want something to drink?”

“Like water?”

“Something a little stronger than that.”

“Oh. Yeah. Obviously.” I let out a light laugh. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d ask.”

“What is this?” I sniffed at the thermos before swallowing down a swig. Shane and I had gathered around the fire after he’d finished setting up camp, expertly putting together a tent and rolling out the blanket.

“An acquired taste.” Shane smirked in my direction. “How do you like it?”

“It tastes like whiskey and… cream? There’s something sweet in this.” I frowned before taking another sip. “Pretty disgusting, but I’m worried it’s growing on me.”

“They call it a Cowboy Cocktail.” Shane settled a little closer to the fire. “I had my first one years ago. I thought it was pretty bad too, until it started tasting pretty good.”

“I was expecting straight whiskey from you.”

“Then I’m happy to defy your expectations.” The smile lingered on his face. “I don’t like being too predictable.”

“Yeah, you are full of surprises…” My words trailed off as I spoke. “How’s your farm coming along, by the way? Any closer to it?”

“I haven’t really started looking,” he admitted. “I don’t know. I talked to my accountant and my finances are looking good. I just…”

“You just what?”

“Dreaming is one thing. Making it real is another.”

A lump formed in my chest, as images of Shane at the end of that trail ran through my mind.

Dreaming is one thing. Making it real is another.

“I think you just have to pull the trigger on it, Shane,” I replied. “You’ll never know how far you can fly if you never jump.”

“You’ll never know how far you can fall, either.”

“You’re not going to fall.” I shook my head. “You know that. You’re way too smart for that.”

“What about you?” Shane turned to look at me.

“What about me?”

“How’ve you been? I know I was kind of quiet today, and I was M.I.A. the day before, so we haven’t had a chance to talk lately,” he went on. “How are your memories? Anything coming back?”

“I… actually, yeah.” My voice was low. “Something about the woman in that photo you showed me.”

“Oh? What about her?”

“We’re not together.”

“What?”

“I mean, I think we were together, before,” I explained.

“But we went through a breakup. I don’t know how long ago.

I do know that it wasn’t our first. I think we were off and on or something, always kind of together, always kind of not.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t… stable. I wasn’t able to just relax and… be… like this.”

“Like this? Like what?”

“Calm. Like I am when I’m around you,” I murmured. “I’ve never been this calm around anyone before, Shane. Not that I can remember.”

“We should… get to sleep. I think you’re a little more tired than you realize,” Shane said, already moving away from the fire.

“Wait. Shane. I—” I poured water on the fire, making sure it was all the way out.

I even moved dirt around it for good measure, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. By the time I reached the tent, Shane was already under the blanket, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

I didn’t say a word as I joined him under the covers, slipping into place beside him. Our shoulders were side by side, his gaze straight up. I reached for his hand, linking our fingers together…

Shane didn’t pull away. I slightly shifted beside him, not stopping until I was leaning over him, just enough for our faces to be inches from each other’s.

Staring at his skin, I gently pressed a kiss against his neck, his chin, his cheek.

His eyes met mine, as my lips hovered over his.

I softly brushed my lips against Shane’s, my hand squeezing his, our chests seemingly beating in time?—

“Calder. Don’t.”

“Shane?” I said his name, confused. “You don’t want me—you don’t want to?”

“You’ve been through a lot. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Actually, I think this is the only thing that makes sense.” My voice was low. “You’re saying you don’t feel it, too?”

“Goodnight, Calder.” Shane closed his eyes tight, like he was willing me to disappear on the spot.

“Goodnight, Shane.” I rested my head on his shoulder, fingers still intertwined with each other’s.

I didn’t know if he’d forgotten we were holding hands, or if it was supposed to be my consolation prize.

Because Shane Stratton was never going to give me any more of him, or give anything more to us.

We were warm hands under a cold blanket, and that was all we were ever going to be.