Page 56 of Now and Then

“It’s embarrassing reading this now,” I say.

“Why?”

“High school isn’t nearly as great as the movies make it seem.”

My so-called friends I found at the bowling alley? They would never see me sad again. That’s when I started portraying only the bubbly, energetic version of myself.

I fold the letter and place it at the bottom of the box. Hunter places the cards from his nightstand inside and returns it to the top of his closet.

“I’ll start packing up your bathroom, okay?” I say.

“Sure thing.” He shakes his head. “But don’t for one second think I didn’t notice how you completely changed the subject.”

My cheeks flame. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. This week’s been a lot for me too, okay? Sue me if I don’t feel the need to reopen every emotional wound I’ve ever endured.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Understandable.”

For the next hour, we work in companionable silence. He turns on music, and before long, we’re both singing along to our favorite country songs while we pack.

When we finish, we haul the boxes out to the barn to give Easton’s crew enough room to begin demo. When we walk back inside, the house feels different. Empty.

I glance around the bare kitchen and try to picture what it’s going to look like when it’s done. Then I picture what it’s going to look like tomorrow. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to stay here while we work?”

Hunter shrugs and walks to the refrigerator, pulling out two beers. “It’ll be fine,” he says. “I’m in and out for work most days, so as long as I have a quiet place to sleep, I’m good.”

He twists the cap off a beer and hands it to me.

I look around the empty room again, trying to imagine living in the middle of a construction zone.

“You’re a lot more relaxed about this than I’d be,” I admit.

“I am relaxed,” he says, “because you’re the one running the show.” Hunter gives a grin.

We settle on the back patio. Hunter doesn’t have much in the way of furniture—just two of those cheap, striped lawn chairs that pinch your skin if you move around too much—but the view makes the discomfort worth it.

His backyard stretches out into a sea of wildflowers and grass, their colors softened to hues of faded golds, dusty purples, and hints of rose. The breeze moves through them in slow waves. Trees line the edge, leaves turning and thinning, and beyond them, the sun sinks behind the mountains, casting the area in golden light. This place is more than anything I could’ve dreamed up when I picture a place to watch the sun go down.

“You’re going to have to upgrade because these chairs are terrible,” I say.

He eyes me, suddenly serious. “I’ll take care of the backyard.”

“Okay?” I say, curious at what he’s got planned. “So, uh, Easton gave me the number for his cabinet guy. I’ll order the new ones tomorrow. Hopefully, we can get going really soon.”

We’re quiet for several minutes, fully immersed in the serenity of the space. Although most of the flowers and shrubs are dull and faded, there’s something magical about this place.

“So . . .” Hunter says and takes a swig from his beer.

“So . . . ?” I say when the awkward silence stretches too long.

“Easton’s a nice guy.”

I bury my laugh. I know exactly where this is going. “Yes, Easton is a very nice guy.”

“Are you two . . .” He clears his throat.

I can’t help but tease Hunter. “We are . . .”

The panic that flashes across his face is worth the trouble I know is coming.