The Cabin - Jasinda Wilder Page 0,79
books I’m gonna check out. I kinda make an event of it, I guess. Just so we’re on the same page. I don’t just pop in, find books, leave again.”
Another smile. “I haven’t been to a library in ages, actually. It sounds fun.”
“I mean, I dunno if fun is the right word, but I sure enjoy it.”
We’ve been browsing separately for an hour. We cross paths now and then; she has a small stack under one arm: a biography of Amelia Earhart, a Jack Reacher novel, and something by Nora Roberts; I have an Agatha Christie mystery, a Tom Clancy novel, and two small sci-fi space operas by writers I’ve never heard of, chosen for the blurb, the cover, and the first few pages.
I find her, later, sitting in a corner with her books on the table beside her, reading the Nora Roberts book. I sit next to her, place my books on hers, and dig into one of the space operas.
We read quietly for…well, I’m not honestly sure. It’s quiet, only a few other older folks browsing here and there, the librarian gliding around with a cart of books to be reshelved, and there are no clocks.
It’s easy to sit here with her, in the silence, reading.
It’s not until I hear her stomach growl that I glance at the windows and see that, judging by the movement of the shaft of sunlight, we’ve been here reading for several hours.
“You wanna go get lunch?” I ask, in a whisper.
She nods. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”
I smirk. “I heard.”
She gives me a droll eye roll. I take our whole stack of books, carry them to the check-out. This is when she realizes she doesn’t have a library card here.
“It’s fine, I’ll check them out for you,” I tell her. “No worries.”
“But…” she starts, and then trails off, appearing to reconsider her protestation. “Okay, thank you.”
Lunch is cheeseburgers and beer at the bar, with ESPN running highlights of college football. The books are in my truck. The bill arrives, and Nadia frowns.
“I don’t have my purse,” she says, her frown deepening. “I didn’t even think about it. It’s been so long since I’ve even needed it.”
“Nadia,” I say, tossing my card onto the tray. “It’s fine.”
She shakes her head, and seems unduly upset. “It’s not. You shouldn’t pay for me.”
“It’s like forty dollars. No big deal.”
“It’s…” She lets out a breath. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the principle of the thing.”
I nudge the tray toward the bartender as he passes by with a pair of beers for a couple of local old guys. Then I glance at her, toying with the leather stitching on my wallet. “Doesn’t make this a date, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She blushes, rolls a shoulder in a vague, unsure gesture. “I…I don’t mean anything against you, Nathan.” A deep, delicate pause. “I…I enjoy spending time with you.” Another pause. “It’s just…I don’t know if I’m…”
“It can be just two friends having lunch, Nadia. I get it.” I try to catch her eyes. “If anyone gets where you are on this, it’s me. Okay?”
She seems to be struggling with what she’s feeling and how to express any of it. Boy, do I get that, too. “I’m really confused, Nathan.”
“Like I said, I get it.”
“Are you confused, too?” she asks, looking at me, finally.
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Or you mean you’ve have been confused like I am now, so you get it?”
“No, I’m pretty damn confused right now.” I’m the one wrestling with what to say, now. “I like you, Nadia. You’re easy to be around. Easy to talk to. I don’t have to…explain things that most other folks just won’t ever understand. I like that, around you, it’s…it’s easier to not think about…all the heavy shit.” I lick my lips and wish the pint glass in front of me wasn’t empty. “But I feel guilty about not thinking about it…”
Harsh, thick, acid pause.
“About her,” I finish.”
She tilts her head back, sniffles at the ceiling, and the sniff is not quite but almost a laugh. “Yeah,” she murmurs, wiping under her eyes with her two middle fingers. “What you said.”
“You want to head back?” I ask, after a minute.
“Yeah,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
We drive back, and it’s silent between us. I let it be, that silence. Sometimes you just can’t talk your way out of awkward silences. Sometimes, the awkward silences are important.
When we get back to the cabins, she stops halfway between my