Role Playing(58)

Some part of him felt like he could’ve stood there forever, but she nudged him. “Let me get some bowls,” she said, her voice scratchy. “Go sit down.”

He did as instructed. “How do you know about all this stuff, anyway?”

She looked grumpy for a second, then huffed out a breath. “I read a lot of romance,” she muttered. “All kinds.”

“You?” He stared at her. “You read romance? Really?”

She crossed her arms. “You have something against romance?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. He couldn’t help it. He laughed, just out of a joyous sense of relief. “It’s just so hopeful of you. That’s awesome. Like you’re less of a grumpy butt than you pretend.” He was delighted with the image of cranky, cantankerous Boggy tucked in with a love story.

It showed she was more of a marshmallow than she let on.

“Shut up,” she growled, but there was a little smile at the quirked corners of her lips. “I’ll show you fucking grumpy.”

He shook his head. She was a very good friend, and he was lucky to have found her.

As she put the dishes in front of them at the table, he looked at her. “And . . . they talk about stuff like this? In romance novels?”

“The ones I read do,” she said, with a firm nod. “You’d be amazed. Anyway, dinner . . .”





CHAPTER 24


OBLIVIOUS TO LOVE


Maggie had her woodstove going and the TV on for background noise. She’d been puttering around her house aimlessly for most of the afternoon. She’d tried to get some work done but had trouble focusing. She’d thought about cleaning, but she’d find herself in a room, unsure of why she’d decided to come in and what she ought to be doing next. It was like brain fog. She wondered if it was menopause, which made her want to growl. Like the hot flashes and irritability weren’t bad enough, there needed to be confusion too? Thanks, body!

But she knew that her current state had less to do with hormonal chemistry, and more to do with Aiden. More than she wanted to credit, if she was honest.

She’d taken him to the doctor that morning, and he’d finally gotten the all clear to lose the air boot. His hairline fracture had healed, and he was now under his own steam. He’d been so happy, his smile broad and genial and so him that she’d found herself staring. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like that, and she found herself drawn to it, like a lizard sunbathing on a hot rock.

She’d dropped him off at his house, and he’d thanked her profusely, which she’d brushed off with embarrassment before fleeing back to her own home. It occurred to her that since Aiden’s injury, she’d spent time with him almost every day. Sometimes to help him get groceries, and sometimes to cook. She’d found herself loading up his freezer, showing him easy meals to make and having him help, although never straining his foot. Afterward, they’d watch something, or eat something together, or sometimes just drink coffee and bullshit together. She’d even brought her laptop to his house, and they’d played Blood Saga together, laughing and smack-talking in real life and real time, without any of the rest of the guild being aware.

It felt . . . nice.

It had been a long time since she’d felt that close to someone. When Trev had suggested they move to Fool’s Falls, she’d agreed, hoping that it would patch the gaping cracks in their marriage, even though she wasn’t sure Trev even wanted that. But it was like trying to repair a suspension bridge with Flex Seal . . . despite the miraculous promises, it was never going to work. With five years’ distance in her rearview mirror, she was astounded at how scared she’d been about failing in the marriage, how determined she’d been that she could somehow, some way, make Trev and Kit have an improved relationship, that she could be the kind of wife that could raise her son and make her husband happy.

Fool’s Falls was a good community—or at least, she had to assume it was, since Deb and Harrison and even Kit seemed to do well there—but she’d never felt like she fit in. It was so weird how something so Hallmark could make her feel so isolated. She knew being in a bad marriage hadn’t helped matters, and the divorce had made her isolate, an injured animal licking her wounds in her den. Since then, she’d found herself lost, and cranky with exhaustion, and simply drifting.

Aiden was the closest thing to a true friend that she’d made in a decade.

She didn’t know what to do with that. Her stomach twisted with awkwardness. Should she text him, see if he wanted to maybe play some Blood Saga? Of course, she’d just seen him that morning. And he’d just gotten his cast off. Surely, he’d want to see someone else, do something else?

Gah. This was why she didn’t make IRL friends. It was easier when she had a task, an assignment. When she was useful. Just asking for his attention felt wrong and twisted her already knotty anxiety into a braid.

Fuck it. Just eat something, watch something, go to bed. She probably wouldn’t get much sleep (read: any sleep), but at least she had a game plan.

Before she could turn to her kitchen, she saw the flash of headlights through her kitchen windows, and her stomach dropped.

Who the hell is coming to my house on a Friday night?

She felt her heart pound with adrenaline. As irritated as she’d been with Deb’s observation, she had made a good point: it was hard to be a woman alone in this house, on this property. When Trev had first moved out, she’d cried herself to sleep, not because she missed him—they were too far gone for that—but because she’d been scared. The place had seemed too wild, too big, too frightening for her to handle on her own. It was only her stubborn love for her son, her determination to protect him and not to fuck up his life, that had provided the fuel in her engine to continue.