Robin:omg you’re a genius
Robin:I love tea. Pip pip
Robin:was the pip pip a bit much? I feel like it was a bit much. I’m not British. Which you know because we’ve met. Last night. I was the guy hanging from a statue.
Robin:Just in case you like forgot or something
I snorted at my phone, then typed back:Thanks for clarifying. I meet a lot of guys hanging from statues.
There was a solid minute of triple-dot purgatory after that, and when Robin finally responded, it was with approximately twenty laughing emojis. Then he told me which coffee shop to meet him at, and a quick google showed it was a little place just off campus.
And that was that. I was still tense, but as I read back over Robin’s last couple of messages, a small ripple of affection unfurled in me. It was a horrible way to have met someone, but there was something about Robin Finch; underneath the terror of whatever he was going through, he sounded as willing to meet up as I was. He clearly wanted, even needed, a friend. Like I did.
I told Robin I would be there, and I made sure the number for campus police was in my contacts.
Just in case he changed his mind.
July 20th
It was a perfect lazy morning. I was curled up on Darren’s luxurious couch, using my day off to putter away on Photoshop while my boyfriend did boring lawyer work beside me.
I checked my phone for the tenth time since breakfast. No word yet from Mothman with regards to whether I would ever receive visual proof of his existence.
At least some things were going well—the End is Neigh website looked stunning, thanks to Skyler having an absurdly charismatic face and an even more charismatic way with our horse babies. It was such a relief to edit photos of someone else, someone with strong features and clear skin and an objectively lean torso. I didn’t have to use any of my usual filters to bring out Skyler’s shine.
I’d finished adding a picture of Skyler communing with Grandpa Milkshake to the site banner when Darren’s hair tickled my neck.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
I took a moment to boop his forehead with my own before angling my computer screen toward him eagerly. “Didn’t those photos turn out great? I actually just splurged on a 200-mm lens and you can really tell the difference in quality, especially if you scroll down to this one here, see—”
“Lucas.” Darren’s voice was even but oddly clipped. “Who is theguy?”
“Oh!” I’d forgotten that Skyler’s name wasn’t listed on the website—sure, his face was on the internet, but we still valued privacy when it came to the personal information of our workers. “That’s Skyler Evans; we hired him on to help out at the ranch. My mom’s been wanting updated photos for the website, and I had to explain to heragainthat I wasn’t going to pose for any myself—”
“Because you’re insecure in front of a camera, I know,” Darren said. Something stiffened in the shoulder I was leaning against. “So you’ve been taking pictures of this guy instead?”
He was getting jealous again—I took a breath, contemplating what response would stop whatever fight Darren was working up to. “Well, yeah, he’s saved my ass. And the kid’s got a photogenic vibe, doesn’t he? Look at that profile—” I clicked through the gallery. “And it worked out, because our other ranch hands aren’t comfortable in front of a camera, but Skyler’s got such a childlike innocence about him...” Any interaction with Skyler Evans inevitably tugged at my heartstrings—he was a total sweetheart. “I don’t know the whole story, I don’t think he likes to talk about it, but I know he’s going through a rough time, and he doesn’t have any friends or family in town, and he’s starting college and needed a helping hand ...”
“And you couldn’t say no,” Darren jumped in, avoiding my eyes. “That’s generous of you.” He didn’t wait for me to respond before he got off the couch, grabbed his computer, and padded instead to the kitchen island.
I sighed. He needed some time to pout, but he’d get over whatever silly thing he’d got into his head; he always did.
“I want to visit the ranch.” He’d set himself up at the counter to work, but now he was staring at me.
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You want to come see the horses?” Darren had never taken much interest in The End is Neigh—he didn’t know all that much about horses or photography unless I foisted information upon him. “I thought you were super busy with work.”
Darren pressed his lips together before returning his attention to his laptop. “I want to see what you do all day.”
“Okay,” I agreed, walking to the kitchen to place a kiss on the top of his head, “but it has to be Nice Darren, not Bitchy Darren. We can’t spook the horses.”
Or the sweet young people who worked there.
Once he had deemed his case notes as done as they could be for now, we headed to the ranch. It was more bizarre than I’d originally expected, having my be-suited lawyer boyfriend strolling through a senior horse sanctuary, nose delicately wrinkling at the smell of horse and outdoors-ness, complaining under his breath that his Italian loafers were probably ruined. Which was fair, considering that the only bit of outdoors that Darren usually subjected himself to was the quarterly brunch his firm hosted at the local country club.
But his gaze was attentive as he scanned every inch of the grounds we strolled through, staying quiet and allowing me to ramble as I led us on a full tour. Until his eyes locked on something that stopped him in his tracks.
Skyler was out in the pasture, holding Major Banana’s lead rope as he slowly and carefully guided the old horse to step backward in the way I’d showed him, working those joints and muscles to keep the old fellow as limber as was reasonable for a horse his age. The mama-bird feelings came rushing back in—he was such a fast learner, a hard worker, and always eager to please. I hoped that whatever was going on with his parents back in Washington that they were proud of him.
