“Like I would ever let you that close to me with scissors.”
I was on the porch, unlocking my door, when I overheard Sophie say, “She looks like a princess in that dress, Daddy.”
As they crossed the threshold into their house, Jake’s voice seemed to carry, marking my skin with goosebumps.
“Yeah, she does.”
I scurried inside my cabin, heart pounding and hands shaking, and overturned three drawers in my dresser in my rattled attempt to find my old bag with all my hair-cutting supplies inside. The one I’d cut my dad’s and Chad’s hair with for most of my life. No cupboard door was left unturned before I finally found it hidden under the sink in my small bathroom.
And then I kicked off my shoes and paced the floors, touching everything and nothing, trying to calm my breathing. Something whispered that we might be different people by the end of tonight, and the thought got stuck in my chest, making it hard to catch a full breath.
It smelled like rain when I had gathered enough courage to step outside. The starless night made seeing difficult, so I set the kitchen chair on the grass near my porch lights and dragged a plastic lawn chair closer, using it as a table for my things.
Jake’s screen door slammed shut. I didn’t look up and instead concentrated on the soft crunch of the grass beneathmy feet, helping to ground me in something real. I grabbed the scissors out of my bag, and when he drew closer, I gained the courage to look at him.
He’d changed and was wearing his usual shorts and a t-shirt. And his cowboy boots. His stride was sure and strong. And he was looking right at me.
And then I knew…no matter what happened tonight, whether I’d be moving or not, he would keep me safe. My feelings would be safe with him. My heart would be safe.
This was Jake.
He stopped before me, his hair rumpled and messy, as though he had just run his hands through it. His dark eyes were on mine, exasperation in their depth.
“You planning to torture me all night wearing that dress, Tuck?” His low voice skittered over my skin, causing my breath to catch.
My heart might be safe with him, but my jitters didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. I needed to get a hold of myself. I was acting like a skittish newborn calf. Wobbly and afraid of my own skin. That wasn’t who I was anymore. At least, that wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore.
Not with him.
So I raised my chin and answered. “Maybe.”
He stared at me for a long moment, but still, he said nothing.
I cleared my throat and motioned to the chair. “Sit.”
His eyebrows raised as he took in the chair in the grass for the first time. “Oh. We’re really doing this?”
“Huh?”
A tiny smile crept across his face just then. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t you want a haircut?”
“Yup. I did. This is great. It’s perfect, actually.”
“Huh?” I said again.
But his smile only grew broader as he sat down on the chair in front of me.
“How fast can you cut? It’s going to rain,” he remarked pleasantly, as if we had all the time in the world, and I wasn’t moving away in three days.
“I told you. You’re the one who dragged us out here.”
He breathed out a soft laugh but said nothing.
“I’ll hurry,” I added.
To be honest, the way my hands were trembling, it would be dangerous to hurry. I pulled out the kitchen apron stuffed at the bottom of my bag, cringing as scissors and clippers fell out. When I moved to put them back in my bag, more things fell out, to my growing agitation.