Bastian:
About the festival setup…do you want to do the final fence inspection with me?
I don’t know what I’m doing with this. I need your expertise.
Do I need to buy flowers for the bees, or will they go hunt on their own?
Yesterday I moved on to unashamed desperation.
Bastian:
You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.
Taylen, please.
I scroll through timestamps, marking my increasing lack of dignity. But dignity seems less important than breaking this silence, than finding a way past the walls he’s rebuilt between us.
Gouta bleats her encouragement from her corner.
“If this doesn’t work, I’m blaming you.”
My fingers hover over the phone screen, composing and deleting several versions before settling on:
Bastian:
Gouta’s missing. Can’t find her anywhere. Meet me at the lake by the oak tree?
I hit send before I can change my mind, then grab my heavy coat from its hook. Gouta watches with what looks suspiciously like amusement as I check my reflection, running my fingers through hair that refuses to behave. “Don’t give me that look,” I tell her. “Wish me luck.”
After spending most of the day indoors since completing the morning chores, the night air makes my lungs ache with each breath. I get in my truck and drive to the lake. We used to run there when we were kids, but as my joints remind me every morning, I’m no longer a kid.
The tree appears slowly through the darkness lit by the moonlight. This close to the water, the wind carries an extra bite, but I welcome the sting.
I pace near the shoreline while waiting, each step marked by the sound of ice cracking beneath my boots. The lake stretches dark and still beyond ancient oak, its surface reflecting the moon, which on a surprisingly clear night like tonight, makes everything brighter.
My breath creates steam clouds, and I breathe out my anxiety, each minute stretching longer than the last.
Headlights cut through the darkness, and anticipation turns to certainty. He’s coming. Whatever happens next, at least the silence will be broken. We’ll be face-to-face again, and close enough that I’ll be able to read what’s in his eyes.
I square my shoulders against the approaching confrontation. Time to see if my reckless plan leads to a resolution or just creates new complications.
Taylen jumps out as soon as the truck stops, the door slamming with a force that echoes across the lake.
“What happened? Where is she?” The questions come fast, concern making his voice rough. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and something in my chest tightens at the sight.
“She’s…fine,” I admit, watching as realization dawns in his eyes. “She’s at the cabin with the girls. I just…needed to talk to you.”
The change in his expression would be fascinating if it weren’t so dangerous. Concern for Gouta turns into fury. “You manipulative bastard,” he spits, already turning back toward his truck.
“Wait.” My hand catches his arm, and I pull him closer. “Please. You won’t answer my calls, won’t reply to my messages. What choice did I have?”
“What do you want?” he asks, stepping aside and walking toward the oak tree.
“I want to know what happened the other night.”
He laughs. “Well, when a boy likes another boy, things happen,” he says, voice carrying an edge as sharp as winter wind. “No need to make it complicated.”
“So you do like me,” I say, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
