Every day was just… good.
“You know I have almost zero experience driving in snow,” I reminded them.
“This isn’t really snow, Ora,” Jackie argued. “There’s only about an inch out there.”
That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. But to me, who had only seen significant snow from the windows of a tour bus, a quarter of an inch was snow. Kaden avoided going on tour during the winter, after all. We had usually gone to Florida or California the minute the weather started to get cool. Some flurries had fallen in town over the last few weeks, but most of it had been focused in the mountains, leaving them capped and beautiful. “I know, I know. Either way, I’m putting people’s lives at risk just driving home, I feel like, but if I change my mind, I’ll give you a call for your address, deal?” I asked Walter right as the door opened.
“No, no, no, just come on over. I want you to meet—”
I glanced back toward the door to see a familiar figure in a thick dark jacket coming in, stomping his feet on the rug I shook out every hour if I had time.
And I smiled.
It was Rhodes.
Or as my heart recognized him as: one of the main reasons I’d been so happy over the last two months, even though I’d only seen him a total of seven times, including the two visits he’d squeezed in while he’d been working in Colorado Springs.
“—my nephew. Oh, how’s it going, Rhodes?” Walter asked as he caught sight of our new visitor.
Rhodes dipped his cute chin down, a little notch forming between his brows. “Well. How are you, Walt?” he greeted him.
How he knew people when he said about twenty words a day, depending on his mood, was beyond me.
“I’m doing just fine, apart from trying to convince Aurora here to come over to my house for Thanksgiving.”
My landlord’s hands went to his hips, and I was pretty sure his lips pressed together before he said, “Hmm.”
“Hi, Rhodes,” I called out.
Things were good between us. Since getting back, that something that I’d thought before had changed, had changed even more. It was like he’d gotten back and decided… something.
Some part of me knew that he wouldn’t have done everything he had for me and with me if he was indifferent, landlord or not. Friend or not. Finding people attractive was one thing. But liking other things about a person, their personalities, was something else entirely.
I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, it felt different than friendship somehow, but I could see it in the way that he had accepted my hug that first day he’d gotten home and squeezed me back tightly. It was in the way he would touch my shoulders and my hand randomly. But mostly it was in the way that he talked to me. In the weight of that purple-gray gaze. I ate up every single word out of his mouth after dinner when we sat around the table, and he told me a lot of things.
Why he’d chosen the Navy—because he thought he loved the ocean. He didn’t anymore; he’d seen more of it than most people would in a lifetime.
That he’d had that Bronco since he was seventeen and had spent the last twenty-five years working on it.
That he’d lived in Italy, Washington, Hawaii, and all over the East Coast.
I found out his favorite vegetable was brussels sprouts, and that he hated sweet potatoes and eggplant.
He was generous and kind. He cleaned my windshield off in the mornings if there was ice on it. He’d become a district wildlife manager—his official title—because he had always loved animals and someone had to protect them.
And in that moment, this man who loved scary movies, looked so, so tired.
So I wasn’t totally sure what to think about the scowl he made at the possibility of me going over to Walter’s house, especially if he’d heard the part about the older man’s nephew.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he replied before tipping his head to Walter and starting to come over.
You could have heard someone fart from all the way in the employee bathroom after that.
He’d called me sweetheart.
In front of all of three people.
It took me a second to swallow, this bright little rush going through my chest, and I had to fight to keep my smile normal instead of this massive one that more than likely would make me look like a lunatic. “Whatcha doing?” I asked, staying where I was until he stopped about a foot away, willing myself to act cool.
He looked exhausted. He’d been gone by the time I left that morning, just like most days. Gone before I was and not back until I was already toasty in bed. He worked endlessly and tirelessly, never complaining. It was one of the many things I liked about him.