Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan
“What’s happening?” Burt asked, his walking stick clicking on the wood of the porch as he came up beside Betty.
“I don’t know, but I’ll describe the scene as it . . . as it . . .”
“Happens,” Burt said quietly.
“No, no . . .”
“Unfolds.”
“No . . .”
“Occurs.”
“Exactly,” Betty said.
A car appeared in the distance, turning onto the road that led to the B&B and coming to a skidding halt in the driveway.
Travis jumped out of the cruiser, throwing the back door open and removing the saddest-looking plant I’d probably ever seen. I gasped, turning the water on with a flick of my wrist and dragging the running hose to where he stood. “Oh my God!” I said, gasping and then laughing. “You found them? You found them?”
“Yes!” he called, his head back in the cruiser as he removed another plant, setting it next to the first one. “Hurry! They might only have minutes left.”
I laughed again, but got right to work moving the hose back and forth over their roots and leaves, giving them the drink they so obviously needed, crooning to them while I did.
As Travis shut the doors of his cruiser, I lifted the hose too quickly and accidentally shot a stream of water in his face. “Eek,” I said, lowering it and soaking the front of his uniform.
He brought his hands up in defense, running one back through his saturated hair, laughing suddenly, water droplets flying out around him.
I dropped my arm, water pooling at my feet as I stared at him, laughing proudly in front of the plants he’d rescued. For me.
My heart constricted. My muscles felt heavy. It made me feel both energized and . . . afraid.
He ran his hand over his face again, his gaze meeting mine, his smile slipping as he watched me stare at him.
Behind me, I heard Betty’s soft voice rise and fall as she narrated the scene for Burt.
“You did this for me. Why?”
He paused, as though the question had caught him off guard and he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. “Because that’s what friends do.”
I felt a small drop inside me but shrugged it off, the fear from a moment before lifting.
Travis’s face went very serious, water droplets catching the sun and shimmering in his thick, dark lashes, highlighting those unusual whiskey-colored eyes. God Almighty, but he was beautiful. “And also,” he said softly, “because I wanted to say I was sorry. For what I did . . . with Gage. The possums. Ticks. You know.”
I couldn’t help laughing. How could my heart not soften at that? “You’re forgiven.” He’d saved my plants. He’d done it just for me. “How’d you find them anyway?” I asked, nodding to the dripping line of greenery . . . or . . . brownery as the case may be.
“I put out an APB. And I hung official police department flyers on bulletin boards all over town.”
I grinned and so did he. For a few moments we stood there smiling inanely at each other, my shoes saturated by the running hose, still held at my side.
Behind me, Betty’s voice had lowered, almost to a whisper and when I glanced back, Burt had a dreamy smile on his face.
I looked back at Travis. Were we ever going to discuss that kiss?
Or was it unnecessary? A one-time-deal chalked up to . . . anger stirred up to a mostly incoherent breakdown, that had then flared to some form of passionate temporary insanity?
Travis raised his head and squinted to where Betty and Burt stood, lifting his hand and giving them a small wave and then returning his gaze to me. “So um, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d like to come with me to the blueberry festival tomorrow.”
The blueberry festival? Oh right, the one Clarice was in town for, and I’d heard mention of at the club.
“As friends,” he clarified, as though my pause may have indicated I was wondering if he was asking me on a date. He’d said that about Gage’s party though too. The one where we’d kissed, and done . . . non-friendly things.
I released a small breath, ignoring that. “A whole festival surrounding . . . blueberries?”
He grinned again. My God, that grin. Those eyes. The dents in his cheeks. That stubborn jaw.
Some insanely ridiculous idiot had cheated on this man . . . with my brother.
He’d been hers and she’d let him go.
Right. Friends.
He nodded behind me to the house. When I glanced back I saw that Betty and Burt were no longer there. “Clarice will be there,” Travis said. “I bet the whole crew will be.”
The crew. “We have a crew?”
He laughed. “For better or worse, for now, yeah, I think we have a crew.”
I laughed too but something about that made a flush of happiness warm my insides. A crew indicated . . . belonging. Even if temporary.
“Most of the town will be there,” Travis said. “My brother will give a speech. In sign language. His voice box was injured when he was a kid.”
“Oh.” I frowned, adding that small nugget to what I already knew about Travis’s family. “How sad.”
Travis shrugged. “Everyone is used to it now. Most of the town speaks sign language, as does his family, even my six-year-old nephews. They had this group class at the high school about six years ago. They had to move it into the gymnasium it was so crowded.” I smiled softly. He was babbling and I wasn’t sure exactly why, but it was very endearing coming from Chief Hale, the picture of masculine law and order, even if he was standing there in a sopping uniform.
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