going to be as easy as he expects it to be. These people have had years to get used to hating me. And it’s all well-deserved, so I can’t even complain about it.
7
Abigail
It’s almost time for the sun to set when I see Ethan again. He’s walking down the lane toward the cabins that are in the rows behind mine, and he’s thumbing through a book, not looking where he’s going. I get almost on top of him before he notices I’m there.
“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t see you.” He mutters it more than speaks it, and I can barely hear him.
“What’s got you so absorbed?” I ask. I lean over so I can look at what he’s reading. When we were younger, we used to trade books. He liked comic books and mysteries, and I liked adventure and camp books, and we’d trade when we finished ours and then argue about why one was better than the other.
He closes the book, but he keeps his thumb in the spot where he was reading. “Detective novel,” he says. He holds it up so I can see the cover.
“Did you give up comic books?”
“Back when I got old enough to notice girls,” he says with a smirk, and he looks so much like the old Ethan that my heart does a little flip. “You still reading those camp books?”
I wrap my hands around my mouth and lower my voice like I’m going to tell him a secret. “I’ve graduated to big girl books now,” I say with a wink.
He grins. “What’s that mean?”
“It means I buy books with smooching in them,” I say, and I feel the heat as it creeps up my cheeks.
He barks out a laugh. Then he points down the lane to the end of the road. “There’s a little free library down there,” he says, referring to one of the small book boxes that have popped up around the country. They operate on the “leave a book, take a book” theory. “You might find something nice to read.” He shrugs like he’s suddenly uncomfortable. “I know there were a couple of mysteries in there the last time I checked, if you like that sort of thing.”
“I’ll go check it out.” I tilt my head at him and look closely. I rub my chin. “So, what’s up with the beard?” I ask. “Have you gone mountain man lately?”
He shakes his head and looks away. “I need a haircut and a shave.”
“Why don’t you go get one?”
He shakes his head again and stares far off into the distance. “I tried. The men at the barber shop turned me away.” He fidgets and kicks at a rock with the toe of his shoe. “The people in this town don’t like me too much.”
That stuns me. Especially since he sounds so sincere it has the ring of truth to it. “Why’s that?” I can’t help but ask.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.” When he hesitates, I raise my brows at him and glare playfully. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. Gran doesn’t even have a TV in the cabin.”
“It’s not really a story I want to tell,” he says slowly and quietly. “I kind of like that you still like me right now, and I’d prefer it to stay that way. For a little while, at least.” He heaves in a heavy breath and blows it out, and then he runs a hand through his shaggy hair which is several inches too long.
“I could cut it for you.” It’s a dumb offer, and if he has a lick of sense, he’ll turn me down. “I used to cut Granddaddy’s hair.”
He smiles and mocks the way I said the word. “Gran-diddy?” Then he grins, and my God, he’s beautiful, even all scraggly and unkempt. There’s just something in his eyes that makes him shine when he grins. He reaches out and tugs a lock of my hair, which makes me laugh as warmth creeps up my face again.
“Granddaddy never complained,” I tell him.
“You got scissors?” He closes one eye and appraises me with the other.
I shrug. “I’m sure Gran has some in her sewing box.”
“You feel like cutting my hair, Abigail?” he asks, and that grin appears again. I can’t see the dimples I know he has because of all the facial hair, but the glint in his eyes is infectious.
“You want to do it right now?” I point to the ground, as though that will affect the time.