“Your sister.”
“Is she okay? Does she need something?”
Hallie shakes her head and groans. “Nothing, other than for me to say yes to a blind date she’s trying to set me up on.”
Without my mind’s permission, my heart skips a beat, and I try not to show it on my face, instead opening the pack of hand warmers I grabbed from inside and shaking the small packet before offering it to her.
“A blind date?” I ask as casually as I can manage. She finishes her message, accepts the sachet, then rolls her eyes and slides her phone back into her pocket.
“It seems now that your sister is in a happy, committed relationship, she’s decided I need to be too.”
“You two have always done things together,” I say, turning the key in the ignition and sitting behind the steering wheel. She walks to the vehicle, sits beside me before I start driving.
“Yeah, well, that’s not something I’m looking for, and the sooner she realizes it, the better.”
Unsure of what to say to that and concerned that if I do say something, it will absolutely be the wrong thingtosay, I start to drive, moving into the woods and toward the field where the trees are.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care, wherever,” she says, and I hesitate, then look over at her skeptically. Her gaze is locked on trees in the distance, and she seems lost in her thoughts.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” she asks, but her tone further proves her anything but dull and emotionless, so completely far frommyHallie. Gently, I attempt to explain that, trying to keep levity in my words.
“It’s just, you’re Hallie. You always care. You always have opinions on what to do and where.” A moment passes, and I wait for a sassy remark, which doesn’t come. The unease builds in my chest. “Is it my sister that’s bothering you? I can talk to her, tell her to lay off, or have my mom?—”
“No, no…it’s not Wren. I’m used to her meddling in one way or another by now. It’s different. It’s…it’s just been a weird day.” Her words are weighted down with emotions that are clearly weighing on her.
“Do you…” I hesitate, not wanting to push too hard on our new, tenuous friendship. “Do you want to talk?” There’s a long pause, and I continue to drive slowly along the property as she seems to contemplate how to answer before a reluctant sigh leaves her lips and she speaks.
“It’s silly, really. I saw that—” she starts, then her words fade off before her hand reaches for my leg and squeezes, hard. “Oh my god,” she whispers, then starts slapping me. “Stop.”
“What?” I ask, shifting toward her as I take my foot off the gas.
“Stop! Stop the vehicle, Jesse!”
“Hallie—” I start to say, but do as she asks, panic moving through me. Before I even come to a complete stop, she’s moving off the UTV and off into the distance, before her steps slow and I see it stepping out from behind a tree, maybe ten yards from Hallie.
A deer, maybe six months old, is chewing on a low-hanging tree branch.
“Goddammit,” I murmur as I approach her, then reach down for a pinecone. When Hallie looks over her shoulder, she glares at me, seeing my intention before I even make a move.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she threatens under her breath. “Do not scare that deer off, or I will spend the next two years teaching your daughter to be an absolute tyrant.” That makes me stop, and I look at her in a mix of hilarity and shock.
“Did you just threaten to indoctrinate my daughter to be a terror?”
“Scare off that deer, and it won’t be a threat,” she says, then turns away from me again, taking slow steps in the deer’s direction.
“It’s chewing a tree branch, Hal. Don’t know if you’re aware, but my family kind of sells those.”
“It’s winter! She’s hungry!” Hallie argues over her shoulder, then takes another step. The deer’s head lifts, and Hallie stills.
“That’s not how that works,” I grumble, but drop the pinecone all the same. Hallie takes another tentative step toward the deer, her phone lifted to take photos.
“Where’s your mom?” she whispers, her voice so low it barely carries over to me as she takes another step closer.
“Hallie,” I murmur in warning, but there’s no way I’m going to stop her from doing what she wants. She’s Hallie, after all. So instead, I pull out my phone and, even though I know they won’t be as good as hers, I take a few photos of the two of them together. She murmurs a few more soft words to the deer a few feet away from her, and they look at each other as if they’re genuinely having a conversation I can’t hear or understand. After a moment, Hallie sniffs, then wipes her cheek, and I realize that she’s actually crying. Something in my chest tightens as I watch the exchange, as she continues to speak to the deer softly.
