And it’s ours.
What is unusual is the fact that I haven’t seen him since.
At first, I didn’t think much of it.
There had been nights throughout the summer when he didn’t show up. We weren’t attached at the hip.
So, when one o’clock rolled around Friday night and there was no knock at my door, I simply left my back door unlocked and went to bed.
No big deal.
But then Saturday came and went, and I didn’t see or hear from him.
Saturday night, no Axle.
By Sunday afternoon, I finally sent a text. One text.
I stare at my phone, sitting beside me on the blanket.
Me: You okay?
His response came nearly an hour later.
Axle: I’m fine.
That’s it. His default two-word reply to every question.
The kind of response he gives when he doesn’t want to discuss it any further.
I drag both hands down my face.
Maybe he’s really fine, and I’m overthinking. Maybe he’s just busy. I mean, he missed Sunday supper at the ranch house. He wouldn’t skip that unless he had a good reason.
I spent nearly the entire meal resisting the urge to ask where he was.
But how exactly was I supposed to ask?
Hey, has anybody seen Axle? He hasn’t been sneaking into my cabin to ravage me the last two nights, and I’m worried. Anyone know why?
Yeah. That would have gone over great.
I groan and flop backward against the pillows.
My chest feels tight and uncomfortable, and I don’t understand why. Because this shouldn’t matter—Axle can dowhatever the hell he wants. We’ve never defined anything, never labeled anything, and never made any promises.
We aren’t dating.
The realization causes my eyes to water.
We’re …
What are we? Friends? Friends with benefits?
I wrinkle my nose.
That sounds too cold. Too casual.
Friends with benefits don’t spend hours talking under the northern lights. Do they?
