Everyone’s watching.
And that’s fine.
Except for the Heath part.
I just—I get the impression he doesn’t like me, and I don’t like to show emotion in front of people who aren’t safe.
People who don’t like me.
People who judge me.
The way my parents do.
For all that he’s been outwardly patient with me—even while pointing out that my parents aren’t the best for me—I can’t shake the feeling that he wishes I wasn’t here.
And yet Istillhave a crush on him.
Lav’s right.
Grown-ups are complicated.
I wish I could be a dragon instead.
“There’s a bunch of wood in the fermentation building,” Heath says to Mabel. “I can probably reconstruct fencing or a trellis with it.”
“You can’t do everything.”
Well.
That’s a derisive snort of a response if I’ve ever heard one.
“Watch me,” he says dryly.
Mabel looks at me. “Yes, he’s always like this.”
Like she’s tellingmewhat Heath is like because she thought I’d ask.
Like I have reason to care.
I know from just listening that none of the seemingly straight women here—not Mabel or Ginny or Dori—consider him anything other than a brother. And Elizabeth didn’t meet him until the same day I did, but she says he’s only a couple years older than her daughter and she’s not into the young ones like her husband apparently is.
But I also know what those feelings are that I’ve been squelching, and having Mabel talk to me directly about him right now is making me warm in the face like I’ve never been attracted to a man before.
Like I haven’t used dating apps for one-night stands and hookups between boyfriends for years.
“We all have our issues,” I say brightly.
The chuckle that goes around the room tells me it was the right thing to say.
Thank you, all of those years of broadcast practice.
That, at least, feels normal.
“My grandpa was a woodworker,” I tell the room. “He taught me to pick good boards. Point me to the fermentation building, and I’ll go poke around.”
This time, the response that goes around the room is less enthused.
Understandable.
