“I’m not sure who you’re trying to convince, yourself or me, but they’re lucky to have you. You’ve done a great job here.”
I hate that he’s figured me out.
“Thank you.” My voice comes out soft, and accepting his praise is hard. I don’t feel like I’ve done a whole lot here, but the beginning of projects always feels like this. Jumbled, unorganized, and a little bit chaotic, all things that I absolutely despise, but somehow find myself drawn to fixing.
When we finally make it down to my cabin, Weston shocks me when he says, “Well, at least this one won’t need as much work.”
Technically, he’s not wrong. It has running water and is definitely a stable structure. That’s about where I would end the differences between this cabin and the others.
I let out a snort. “Sure, if you say so.” This man is delusional. I wonder if he’s just saying all this to make himself feel better about putting me in a run-down cabin. Admittedly, I have come to love my cozy cabin.
I don’t wait for his help to get off the horse. As soon as we come to a stop in front of my humble abode, I swing my leg over and drop, thankful to get some space from him and clear my mind.
“Are you okay if I head on in?” Weston says as soon as his boots hit the ground, he starts striding to the front door, and I don’t stop him from going in. I knew we would be stopping by on our tour, so I made sure everything was tidied up after Josh left.
He takes a few steps in and looks around. I focus on my notes while he takes in my cabin. I've already got a laundry list of things I plan todo to this place. I guess that’s one benefit of my having stayed here. I know exactly what I would want as a guest and I can implement that in all the cabins.
When I finally look at him, I realize that his face has lost all its light. His face has paled, all color drained.
He silently walks around, studying the space as he goes to the sink and turns on the water, testing the temperature with his fingers. His jaw grinds when he continues to hold it under the cold water that never heats up. “How long has the hot water been out?”
I roll my eyes at his naivety, sarcasm heavy on my tongue. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m guessing the year 1984.”
His voice is steel, but his control is slipping. “You mean to tell me you’ve been living in this cabin for almost a month with no hot water?” His usually calm eyes are wild with hurt. He uses his hand to point at the sink, and I notice the shake to it.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so shocked, you’re the one who put me here, “I retort.
He scrubs his hands over his face and his beard, closing his eyes for a long time before looking back at me. Well, crap, now I’m feeling bad for the guy because he’s clearly having some sort of revelation of sorts.
Trying to make light of the situation, I joke, “You should’ve seen it when I first got here. It was buried under a few inches of dust, and I almost had to sleep on a pile of clothes before I could run into town for an air mattress.”
He doesn’t laugh. If anything, my comment throws him deeper into his pit of despair. “You're telling me there was no bed in here, nothing?” he asks, his control is all but gone now, he isn’t yelling, but the anger is clear in his voice, and I can’t tell who he’s mad at. Surelyit can’t be me. I’m having a hard time believing he didn’t have at least the slightest hint that this cabin wasn’t really livable.
My hand flies to my hip as I stand my ground. “And you’re telling me you had no idea?” I clarify. The pain that crosses his face makes my heart skip a beat. I’ve been using this cabin situation as my reality check with him, and I think we both just got one.
“You seriously think I would expect you to live here knowingly?” His brows furrow, and the devastation on his face would be visible from a mile away.
This may not be intentional, but the man still has a track record. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done something without considering my feelings or well-being.”
“That's not fair. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I asked the boys which cabin was in the best shape, or if it was even livable, and they said this one was fine. They must not have realized how bad it’s deteriorated.”
My head rears back and I fold my arms across my chest. “What? Was it too much work to come check it out yourself?”
He takes a big deep breath, looking up at the ceiling, I’m guessing to try and get a hold on his emotions. Really, I should be doing the same thing. “You’ve got me there. I really should’ve come out here and checked. But you should’ve told me it was this bad. Never in my life would I have you living in something like this. I can’t believe you think I would be okay with this.” He says the last part more to himself than me, his voice barely audible, but I can hear the crack in it. He shakes his head and a vacant look fills his eyes.
Well, now I’m feeling a little guilty for lashing out. This man looks completely distraught. He takes off his hat and runs his hands throughhis hair. It stands up in all different directions; his eyes look like he’s close to tears.
He keeps walking away and looking at things. He pulls open one of my kitchen cabinets, unfortunately, it’s the broken one, and it falls off its hinge. He drops it to the ground with more force than necessary. He moves to the window to investigate the seal. He tries to open it, and no matter how hard he pulls, it doesn’t budge. The anger he has is radiating off in suffocating waves. Seeing him be this worked up over this cabin, I’m one hundred percent confused about my feelings for him. The majority of my anger was toward this cabin, even after I came to somewhat enjoy it; it’s not really a place you would put someone you care about. I mean, obviously, anger of the past has bled in too. But even I am having a hard time pinpointing what hurt is coming from what.
He swipes his hand over a dusty window seal before turning back to me. “Get your things, you’re not staying here another night.”
“My grandpa‘s house doesn’t have a room for me, and I’m not about to impose on him. I have nowhere else to go,” I state defeatedly. Kind of the whole reason I told him I needed a place to stay. He knows this.
“As long as I’m still on this earth,” his hands powerfully clap against his chest as he gestures to himself, “you will always have a place to go. I don't care if it’s fifty years from now and you still hate me. I will always have a place for you. Meet me outside when you’re done packing.” He turns to walk away toward the door.
Frustrated, I throw my hands in the air. “And where will I be staying?”
“My cabin has multiple bedrooms. You can stay with me. I can promise you it’s a hell of a lot better than this, but it definitely is a bit of a man cave. I promise I’ll get it cleaned up tomorrow.”
