Page 94 of Teach Me How

“Silver Bend isn’t exactly the wilderness.” I pause. “But it’s not far off.”

“What’s it like growing up in a small town?”

“Great. And awful.” I chuckle at her expression. “Everybody is almost family, which is nice, I guess. But it also sucks, because nobody needs that many cousins. There’s no such thing as secrets, but that also means if you need help, you’re not going to be alone.”

“Sounds kind of nice.”

I tilt my head. “Does it?”

Her eyes are warm. “I think so.”

“Would you ever move there?”

The question hangs in the air. Big. Impossible to edge past.

She will know why I’m asking.

I want to know if there’s any point in dating. She knows I won’t move, which means she’d have to come to me.

Her lips tug into a tiny smile. “I’d have to see it first.”

My heart throbs. It’s probably just nerves. Funny, it feels an awful lot like pain. “That’s not a no.”

Her smile is genuine now, broad. “It’s not a no.”

That night, I drop her off at her matchbox sized apartment in a questionable neighborhood and I only walk her to the door. I tell myself I’m only kissing her cheek and not sleeping with her, because I’m trying this new thing where I take it slow.

Reese would be proud of me.

Seems like her dating lessons are wearing off on me.

I’m not such an impossible student, after all.

63.

Reese

We watch Mitch’s friends pull away in their beat-up pickup trucks. Even Colorado boys drive those old Fords.

They honk when they get to the corner, waving out the truck windows. I lift the box, thelastbox, and Mitch takes it out of my hands. “Lead the way.”

I walk ahead. “Thanks. My arms are dead.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re pretty scrappy for such a little thing.”

We take the little side stairs up to my apartment. It feels uncannily like the apartment back in Clark, except that one was over a florist and this one is over a bookstore. Maybe I have a type.

The biggest difference is the last place was painted blinding white, and this one is painted a soft pink.

It would never have been my first choice, and I intended to paint over the offending color, but with my blue couch and my funky rug, it works. Like a snug little jewel box.

“Thanks again for convincing your friends to help. I know it’s not how anybody wants to spend their Saturday afternoon.”

Mitch sets the box next to another stack and gives me a cheeky grin. “Helping a cute girl move into her new apartment? Yeah. I’m sure they had way better things to do.”

“Careful with the sarcasm. You don’t want to strain anything.” I swing the fridge door open. It’s got that lonely feel all empty fridges have. Except for a partially demolished twelve-pack of beer.

I hand him a beer and he grins. “I’m saying you have some admirers.”