Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,27
at the thought. Those old fears about being stuck here in Elgin with nowhere else to go. Trapped here.
It makes me feel like I can’t breathe. I have to go.
There’s nothing I want more than to stay next to this man who makes me feel like I am actually worth something. But I can’t stay. The only thing I’ll do is panic, and I don’t want that.
And more than that, the clock tells me that it’s almost four AM. My father will be up soon. And I don’t want him to see me coming back from Casey’s and have to explain why I’m outside so early. Though my father probably wouldn’t care and wouldn’t pry, that’s not exactly a conversation that I want to have with him.
Casey doesn’t even stir when I gently ease out from under his arm. He breathes slow and deep and even, utterly exhausted. That makes me smile. I wore him out.
I find my clothes and put them on. The only thing missing are my boots, which are still downstairs where I kicked them off.
This time as I walk through the house I actually get to see it. And it’s really nice. Cozy and comfortable. Far more lived in and warm than the white and stark steel that Tyler insisted for our apartment. And it isn’t cluttered and dated like my parents’ house. It’s just…nice. It’s missing some plants, but that’s an easy addition.
As I grab my boots I spot one in the kitchen window. It’s very, very dead. I laugh. At least he tried.
The early morning is cold and crisp in that rare way that you can only get in the dead of winter. I love that feeling of cold going directly into my lungs and waking me up.
I stand on the porch for a moment and consider going back inside. I could. He would never know that I was gone. And then I step off the porch and make my way across the field toward home.
The next few days seem like a blur. I help with breakfast in the mornings and I take walks in the afternoon—never in the direction of the Bowman farm. Mostly I’m by myself. And that’s okay. Mom and Jessica will inevitably try to bring up Tyler and steer me toward taking him back. Rhett and the kids are friendly, but we don’t have much to talk about. And Dad is Dad, constantly moving, like always.
I’m putting away some dishes from the breakfast table on the fourth day since my night with Casey when my dad appears in the kitchen. “Want to come to the store with me, Carley? I have a few things to pick up.”
“I’m okay,” I say softly.
He smiles. “I phrased it like a question, but it wasn’t. Time for you to run the gossip gauntlet.”
I roll my eyes.
“Seriously,” he says. “Go get your coat.”
“Okay.”
My mom calls after me from the kitchen. “You can pick up some things for me. I’ll let you know what. Take your phone with you.”
I don’t answer or ask why she wouldn’t just ask dad since he’s the one going in the first place. I just get my coat and boots—and grudgingly my phone—and follow my dad out to his truck.
“Why’d you really bring me out here?”
He laughs as he starts the truck. “You don’t think I’ve seen you taking walks for hours just to avoid everyone? It was about time you got out of the house.”
I shake my head. My father is more observant than people give him credit for.
“How’s your job?”
“It’s okay. It was nice of them to give me this much time off, but I like working there.”
“What kind of arrangements do you all specialize in?”
My father grows flowers for a living, so I know this is partially professional curiosity. But it’s also his way of asking about my life without asking me about Tyler. He’s been careful not to talk about it. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t care, but because he can see how much it hurts to talk about.
“Honestly we do a little of everything. But a lot of wedding arrangements. Funerals too. Events. The nice thing about Chicago is that there are a lot of super interesting events all the time. Some of them ask for floral sculptures or succulent planters. Nothing is ever the same.”
“That sounds fun. Do you get to work on those more? Or are you more on the gardening side?”
I think about it. “For me it’s about half and half.