I look at it a while before sending, but it’s innocuous enough. I’m just missing being out in the wilderness, that’s all. I choose to ignore the fact that the dull ache is almost completely gone with one single message from him.
Wanting to distract him from what could possibly be read the wrong way, I follow up with a second message:How are things? Any more annoying tourists?
Bas:always, but nothing as bad as the camper idiots. Those two are lucky they made it back to town before I could hunt them down and give them a piece of my mind.
I laugh. Then I type:Well no one said the life of a ranger would be easy. Heroic acts of patience and mental fortitude were committed.
There’s a pause, and I wonder if he’ll leave the conversation there. It would be a natural place to. He’s done the friendly check-in. We’ve both shown we’re not being weird about things.
I slip my feet into my shoes and shrug on my jacket. But as I’m locking the door, my phone buzzes again.
Bas:nothing else making your week feel long? Unreasonable assessments or early tutorials?
I almost walk into someone coming up the stairs because I’m too busy reading.
Vera:no nothing like that. I dunno. Maybe I’m getting sick. Just feeling a little average this week *sad face emoji*
Bas:I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?
Classic Bas. Always looking out for me.
Vera:Nah, I’m good.
And then, because that feels harsh and I feel the ache in my belly returning:it helps just talking with you.
My pulse climbs into my throat wondering if I said too much. After all, I'm trying to pretend this is fine. I am fine. Or I will be fine after a while. I just need some time so the memory of how perfectly he stuffed me full fades and I don’t wake every night thinking about his bourbon-honey scent.
Bas:well in that case, can I call you? I’m only sitting around at home watching the game anyway. It would be nice to have some company. Some virtual company.
I should turn him down, but instead I don’t even wait for him to call, pressing the button and lifting the phone to my ear.
My feet already feel lighter on the last few stairs.
“Hi.” His voice is deep and warm on the other end of the line.
“Hi. I’d love to talk. If you aren’t busy.”
He snorts. “Well, the Jacks are losing. Again. So I’m all yours.”
I’m glad it’s a phone call so he can’t see the way I almost trip at his last few words. I choose instead to respond to the first thing he said. Keep things light and simple. Not weird. Because we’re not being weird. “Bas, the Jacks haven’t won anything in my living memory. What’s new?”
That’s a little unfair. The Lumberjacks, which is the official nickname for the local team, the Black Pines, haven’t won a championship since the year I turned five, which I well know, because Riley and Bas didn’t shut up about them for the next ten years. They still haven’t. Though the chances of the Jacks repeating their championship win get slimmer each year.
“You’re trying to push my buttons. Don’t think I don’t know that,” he says on a laugh. “Now back to you. You’ve been sick?”
He sounds so concerned it’s hard not to smile. “No, not sick. Just… I don’t know. Something. I’m probably just hating being back at school instead of out in the wilderness.”
“Mmm. I can understand that.”
The little campus general store charges ridiculous prices, but it’s open all hours and I’m too lazy to walk into town right now.Now that I’m up and walking around, my stomach growls and hunger hits me. I push the door open and the buzzer sounds.
“What are you doing?” asks Bas.
“Shopping. I should be eating better. I just haven’t had the energy this week.”
“Hmph. You should. You need to take care of yourself. Otherwise I’ll tell Tilly.”
I make an exaggerated gasp, holding my hand over my chest even though he can’t see me. “You wouldn’t!”
