Page 96 of After We Fall

He takes my hand and rubs the top of it.

“What is it with these emotions? I’m like the girls here at the ranch, riding an emotional roller coaster, but I’m much further from puberty than they are.” I clench my fists. “I hate these numbers.”

“Nonsense. You love structure. These numbers should be right up your alley.”

“They should. But instead, they betray me.”

Luke chuckles.

“These numbers are erratic and unpredictable. Do you know what I love most about numbers?”

“Their fancy curves?” he teases.

“Their predictability. But these numbers are anything but predictable.”

Right now, this number game is leading me straight into a wall of frustration. So much for Dr. Ridding’s “healing” path.

I point an accusatory finger at Luke. “And you owe me a clipboard, mister. I was approved to work with paper today as long as I don’t push it.” Still no electronics, but I’ll take paper. Beautiful, cottony, tree-filled paper that will allow me to do something other than stare at the wall during the day.

“I thought we were talking about the numbers.”

“We were. It’s on the list of things I’m annoyed with. So is not having my clipboard.” I hold out my hand. “So hand it over.”

“I’m afraid if I give it to you, you’re going to start working too hard.”

I open my arms wide in exasperation. “There’s nothing for me to do.”

“Liar. You know Claire is coming into town over her Christmas break to work with Meredith at Twelve Bluebells. And if I had to guess, you’re going to try to be quite ‘helpful’ to her while she’s here.” When he says “helpful,” he uses air quotes.

I shove his hands down. “I am helpful.”

“I think your kind of helpful is crossing the border into codependency.”

“It’s not codependency. It’s just a very helpful ‘someone is clearly not doing their job’ mentality.” I use my own air quotes.

Luke throws his head back and laughs. “All right, Miss Helpful. I’ll see what I can conjure up in terms of the clipboard. In the meantime, I have Chinese food. Do you want to eat in the dining room, kitchen, or here in your room?”

“Did you bring me vegetable rolls?”

“Do I look like a stupid man?”

No, he looks like a phenomenal, smart, charming, thoughtful man. “No. You don’t. Okay. It’s date night. Let’s eat in the dining room.”

“I’ll get everything set up and come back to get you.”

If our previous dates are any indication, I have a few minutes to myself while Luke sets the table, complete with tablecloth and napkin rings. He’ll turn all the lights low on the path from my room to the dining room table. Awaiting me will be candles, but he won’t light them until he asks me if my head can handle the stimulus.

Phenomenal, smart, charming, thoughtful man.

While I wait, a warm feeling wraps me in a soft, downy blanket. Only there’s a draft, one that I can’t pull the covers over to stop the cold air from chilling my skin.

With Claire actually coming into town, my dream to be the program director at Twelve Bluebells Ranch slips further from my grasp.

23

Standing alone in the dark kitchen of Twelve Bluebells, I lean a hip against the counter and stare out the picture window above the sink. Light flakes of snow coat the ground with a gentle dust of Christmas Eve sparkle.

During the day, snow betrays me. Its glaring reflection stabs my eyes with such sensory overload, a migraine is sure to begin.