Pieces of Me - N.R. Walker Page 0,1

done, which felt good. It was slow-going like everything else, but it felt good to accomplish something. Progress was progress, one piece at a time.

Dallas came up for lunch and he was all smiles when he saw me at the table. “Hey, you.”

My belly did a little somersault, and the pleasantness was a nice change from the confusion that I’d been shrouded in. “Hey.”

He came over and put his hand on my shoulder. It was warm and there was a gentle strength in his touch. “Getting more done, I see. It’s looking really good.”

I didn’t know why his approval meant a lot to me. I smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

“I’m gonna make myself a toasted sandwich. Want one?”

Food. Did I want to eat? I thought about my stomach and if it was hungry, but I couldn’t really tell. If Dallas was eating, then I probably should too. “Sure.”

He set about getting the toaster thing out, then bread and other stuff from the fridge. I left the table and scooted over to the kitchen, and remembering where the plates were, I put two plates on the counter.

Dallas grinned at me. And instead of making a fuss about me doing stuff, he talked about the bikes they were working on: one was a simple service, one needed a new brake line, and another was having the forks replaced because the guy had stacked it hard in the national park up north. “Sorry if the noise down there is disturbing you,” he said. “Did it wake you up?”

I had to think . . . “Nope. Didn’t hear anything.” Had I heard anything? I knew how loud mechanic shops could get with motors kicking over every so often, things banging and clanging . . . How could I not hear that? I was right above it . . . “Haven’t heard anything.”

“Well, good,” Dallas said. “I wondered if we were disturbing you.”

I put two bottles of water on the counter, trying not to think too much about me not hearing loud noises outside. “It’s weird,” I said. “My head is blank most of the time. Like really misty and empty, but it’s full. There’s no more room. I can’t think about stuff because all the space is taken up by mist. That probably doesn’t make sense, sorry.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he said, that kind smile ever-present. “It’s probably a good thing you can’t hear it. Especially Sparra’s singing.”

I smiled at that and Dallas slid the toasted sandwiches onto the plates, then took them to the table, careful of the jigsaw puzzle. “Let’s see who gets the next piece.”

I carried the waters from the counter as I scooted over and Dallas sat next to me and slid a plate in front of me. “Careful, these’ll be a bit hot. Might want to leave it for a bit.”

“’Kay.” I picked up a puzzle piece and slotted it into place.

Dallas gasped. “You cheated!”

I laughed. “Did not.” I had all the same colours put together. “I’ve just been looking at it longer.”

He grumbled and picked up a piece but couldn’t get it to fit. “Oh, this is bullshit,” he said with a chuckle.

I sorted through the pieces near me and gave it to him. “Try that.”

It slotted straight in and I laughed. “Okay, you win,” he said, giving me a full grin. “So I was thinking about this date tonight.”

Date . . . oh yeah. “Our second first date.”

“Yep. I was thinking we could order some Chinese food for dinner and start watching Game of Thrones, make some popcorn, and maybe if I’m real lucky, we could hold hands.”

I was smiling at him, that giddy feeling was back. “Hold hands, huh?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, looking all kinds of cute and happy. “How does that sound?”

“Good.” I know he said a few things—Chinese food and TV—but one stuck out more than the others. “I like holding hands.”

He laughed and picked up his sandwich, then nodded toward mine. “These are fine to eat now.”

“Okay.” I took a bite, and it was good. I liked mustard and it was helpful that I didn’t have to tell him what I liked, because if I tried to think too hard about what food I liked and didn’t like, I couldn’t name them. Everything was harder when I was tired, and I was tired all the damn time.

I wanted to try harder, though. I wanted to be better. I just needed to try and wade through the mist and make sense of