Internal Fixation - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,3

Deacon. Angela had never been to my trailer, but I’d told her about it often enough—and this was where I’d come home during the days when she was in the hospital, as we’d treated her cancer. I’d done research into her type of leukemia at the small table or out on my porch. In my bed here, I’d wept many tears after we lost her. Like it or not, the memory of the woman who was my friend and Noah’s late wife was part of this place.

Noah and I never shied away from talking about Ang. We both missed her, and that was what had drawn us together at first—a desire to be with another person who remembered and loved Angela.

But we rarely mentioned Deacon’s name. In those first few months, when for me, the pain was still too new and raw, Noah had avoided talking about Deacon to spare my feelings. And then, as time went by, there was simply less reason to bring him up. The longer he was gone, the less real he seemed. Maybe that was all for the best. I’d been angry and devastated by turns after he’d taken off—or more accurately, after he’d run away. Despite the letter he’d written to me and left on my desk, the one where he claimed he was going away in order to return a better man, I held onto more than a touch of bitterness.

I wasn’t sure Noah knew the full extent of my relationship with Deacon, and I was perfectly okay with that. He didn’t ask, I didn’t tell, and we got along fine without exploring those feelings. Still, perceptive as he was, I was sure he had a sense that some of the unhappy memories that I’d just referenced were connected with Deacon.

“Okay, no sloppy farewells, then. Let’s hit the road.” He opened my door for me, his finger squeezing mine gently as he helped me up into the truck. I buckled my seatbelt and rolled down my window while I waited for him to come around to his side and get behind the wheel.

We rode in companionable silence on the familiar route to the cabin. It was one of the things I loved about my friendship with Noah; we didn’t need to fill our time together with meaningless chatter and small talk. He stretched his arm over the back of the bench seat, his fingers absently rubbing over my hair now and then. His window was down, too, and he had the radio set to his favorite country music station.

We had a running joke about his taste in music. While I didn’t mind some country, it had never been my favorite genre. I liked to tease Noah that all of the singers and songs sounded the same.

“Okay, so this one. Is he . . . um, Willie Nelson?” I pretended not to recognize the voice on the radio.

Noah shot me a reproachful look. “Seriously, Em. C’mon. This doesn’t sound anything like Willie.”

I laughed. “I know. He doesn’t have the same whiney twang. This one is Brad Paisley.” I sighed, grinning. “I remember him because he’s super cute, and he’s married to Kimberly Williams.”

“I don’t know about the super cute part—” Noah imitated my intonation. “But he sings a damn good song. I’ve been listening to him since I was in high school.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “Ang loved his song about waiting on a woman.”

“I think I know that one.” I turned to gaze out the window. “He sings some really deep ballads, but I like his lighter ones, too. This one about the I in beer is good.”

“Reminds me that I picked up a six-pack of that purple stuff you like. I figured we could christen the new place the right way.”

I shifted uncomfortably on the seat. Christening the house could have a connotation that I wasn’t sure I could handle yet. Instead of thinking about that, I chose the understanding I preferred.

“Perfect. Drinking Purple Haze at the end of a long moving day is a great idea.”

Noah grunted in agreement, and then seconds later, he turned the truck onto the gravel driveway that led up to my cabin. I’d operated the grader we’d used to create this driveway myself. It was a huge source of pride and satisfaction that I’d poured so much of myself into this home.

“Oh, my God! Look. Everyone’s there already—and oh, Noah, there’re flowers in front of my porch! They’re all planted and everything.”

“Huh. Wonder