The therapist opened his mouth to object, but Teagan couldn’t hear him on account of the mower, and also on account of walking away very quickly. The gap between his shoulder blades itched as he imagined people staring at him, but he took big strides that carried him away from the circle. He escaped.
Darcy was a good distance ahead of him, but the mower didn’t move that fast. He began to close the distance between them, calling her name. She had noise protection earmuffs on, though, and the white wires of her ever-present headphones dangled down below them. Teagan broke into a jog until he caught up alongside her. His side ached, but he ignored it. It would heal eventually.
Darcy turned her head, saw him running, and broke into a grin. The brightness of her smile sent a feeling like homesickness coursing through his chest. Darcy was fully awake and alive in the early morning light, and Teagan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that.
She nudged a lever at her knee, and the motor of the lawnmower revved to full power. She leaned over the steering wheel as if racing him down the freeway.
A laugh bubbled out of his throat. “That thing can’t go more than five miles an hour!” he yelled over the roar, jogging faster. He didn’t think she could hear him.
“Race you!” she called, pointing to the trees.
“Stop!” he called, even though he wanted to laugh.
“Man versus machine,” she yelled back.
“Darcy, come on,” he tried, feeling breathless as he jogged alongside her in the world’s slowest chase scene, his stitches aching in earnest.
He was at least a hundred meters away from the therapy group now though. Possibly that meant he was done for the day.
That would be great.
He poured on some speed to pull ahead of the mower and loped to the end of the wide grassy meadow. He waited at the edge of the clearing, holding his side and trying to slow his breathing as Darcy rumbled up. She hit the brakesmere inches from his knees, killed the engine, and slipped her earmuffs around her neck.
Despite the morning’s chill, she wore only a black T-shirt over cutoff shorts and hiking boots. The T-shirt was printed with an airbrushed picture of three wolves howling at the moon. Teagan squinted. Her two fuzzy, dangling braids obscured some of the design, but it appeared that the wolves were armed with laser rifles and launching an assault on the moon, which was emblazoned with the logo of the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife, and Parks.
He jerked his eyes up to her rosy cheeks when he realized that he probably appeared to be engaged in a lengthy study of her chest. She was waiting for him to speak, an amused expression gracing her red lips.
“Hi, Darcy,” he said, because it seemed that he still couldn’t get any further than that.
“Looks like you’re healing up nicely,” she said when the silence stretched out.
Teagan nodded vigorously, because the last time she inquired about his bear wound, she’d nearly pantsed him in the dining hall to check if his stitches were infected. She eyed his belt buckle as though in contemplation of doing it again. He put two protective hands on his waistband.
“Stitches are dissolving. Bruises fading. Good as new,” he said.
“Can I see?”
“No, I swear they’re better,” he said.
Then he said nothing else.
Darcy waited expectantly. Teagan’s brain did not deliver the clever opening he wanted that would allow them to discuss something unrelated to his mauling or treatment for diseases he did not have.
“Did you just literally run away from therapy?” she asked when he came up empty.
“I guess I did,” he admitted.
“Doc running short on insight this morning?”
“He wanted to talk about my relationship with my dead parents,” he said, keeping his expression straight to make it clear that this was not a bid for sympathy.
“Oh, ew,” Darcy said. “Keep that shit deep down inside where it belongs, right?”
“Right. Never ever talk about it. Generations of my WASP ancestors can’t be wrong.”
“About a single thing, obviously,” Darcy agreed, smothering a giggle before she tilted her head back and laughed. “Anyway”—she finally looked down at her phone to pause her music and take her earbuds out—“what’s up?”
“Ah,” Teagan said, abruptly remembering why he’d gone running after her. “The doctor was wondering if it might be possible for you to mow at another time.”
