1. Novel

  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 21
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 21

AFTER MAKING MY move, I glance over at Tyler, who stares through his dwindling battalion, showing no signs of animation. Typically capable of concealing any despair, I can’t help but recognize the thinly veiled sting in the beautiful soul sitting across from me. Unable to handle any more of his radiating, silent pain, I force him to speak.
“Soldier,” I whisper in a slight scold, “you just lost four men and are about to lose more.”
His lifeless eyes snap to mine. “Shit, yeah.” He exhales heavily, glancing down at his newly weakened formation. “Sorry.”
When he makes a counter move, I make my own. “You just lost twelve more men with your absence of mind. Apologize to them and to the families that will mourn them.”
“I . . .” He shifts in his seat. “My head’s not in it today.”
“No need to point obvious to me.” His lips lift slightly, letting me know I misspoke another metaphor. “You must realize this is the whole point?” I ask. “To put aside all else. This will not be a convenience you have in any battle or on any day in your Marines. That is”—I position a soldier while giving him a pointed look—“if you’re still imbecile enough to sign up for another man’s army.”
“Counting down the days.” He lifelessly returns fire, unwilling to spar with me in our ongoing fight. It’s been our only real battle thus far—one I am determined to win. But seeing the defeat in him today, I decide against making his distracting pain any more of a teaching moment.
“Fine, we can resume our game later,” I relay as my eyes catch on the filtering rays that start to cascade through the living room window. A notion strikes as I glance back over to Tyler, who stares intently at one of his soldiers, seeming to search the plastic figure for what answers he seeks.
“The day is still very young. Maybe—” I again glance toward the brightening window before making my request. “Will you maybe consider . . . taking me to fish?”
His face animates instantly in confusion at my suggestion, and I chortle at his reaction. “Sean and Dom say your family has land and that you fish there.”
“Not so much lately, but yeah, there’s a catfish pond.”
“Which you never told me of.” He cocks his head curiously as if disbelieving of my interest. “I wish to see it.”
He furrows his brows. “You like fishing?”
“You don’t know your opponent very well,” I scold in jest.
“Because honestly, it’s kind of shocking.” He considers me. “You truly want to go?”
“Do you have poles and bait?”
“Hell yeah, I do.” He stands from the table, the severity of his posture visibly relaxing by a fraction.
“Then I wish to go,” I tell him, rising from my chair.
“It’s an apple orchard, to be more specific,” he relays.
“Is there privacy?”
“Two hundred acres enough?”
My eyes bulge. “You say your family is mostly military?”
“Most of them.” He nods. “Why?”
“Then bring guns and ammunition too.” I stand as he gawks at me.
“Seriously, you want to fish and shoot guns?”
“You truly don’t know much of your opponent, private. It’s disappointing.”
“Not for lack of trying, Fort Knox,” he jokes. “You’re not planning on shooting the fish, are you? Because that’s not how we do it around here.”
“So funny. Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes. “I’m going to change.”
Once dressed, he follows me out of the front door, holding the screen as I lock it. The twist of the key has me recalling the night I first took notice of Ezekiel’s compulsion—a nervous compulsion that started not long after Celine and Beau were killed. Three times. Always three times.
“Hey, where did you go?” Tyler asks, preventing me from getting lost in the sting the memory causes. An act he practices often and effectively, which only stokes my intent to return the favor.
“Is this okay?” I point to the tank shirt, overall shorts, and brown boots I found in my closet before I quickly braided my hair.
He scratches his head, the motion seeming unnatural as he scans my dress and nods. “You’re perfect,” he utters, the words coming out strained. “So, if we’re taking a field trip,” he adds quickly, does this mean I’ve advanced to private first class?”
“Not by a fraction.”
“Jesus, General,” he sighs, “your army is fucking brutal.”
“As it should be.” I shrug. “No soldier advances in my army without justcation.”
“Justification,” he corrects.
“Right.” I nod.
At the top of the porch steps, Tyler animates, reporting that he doesn’t fish as much anymore because his previous ‘fishin’ buddy,’ and cousin, Barrett, has become ‘distracted by the ladies.’ It’s then I know his mind has drifted back from the place he was lost in, and his heart now beats lighter. As if reading my thoughts, he pauses his footing at the bottom step and turns to look up at me. Gripping my arm lightly, his sincere whisper and rich brown eyes cover me in their warmth. “Thank you.”
“You deserve a day of RR, private.” I extend my car keys. “Today, you are the boss,” I declare.
“Good with that.” He takes the offering and rounds the car, forced to adjust it to accommodate his height before he can get into the driver’s seat. “Jeez, you’re a half-pint.”
“Five foot five is not that short,” I defend.
“It is when you exaggerate your height by an inch or three,” he says with a wink before turning the ignition and pausing. “So, is this enthusiasm to fish,” he asks in afterthought, “was it just bullshit to get me out of my head, or—”
“Imbecile,” I utter playfully. “You won’t be asking this when I catch and cook your dinner.”
Tyler stops by his house, gathering several supplies and a cooler, which I help load into my car. Though his home is far more inviting in appearance, I know its look is deceiving by the weight he sometimes carries. As he buckles his belt, he turns to me.
“My mom is already at the orchard planting vegetables with my aunt Rhonda and a few others, so we’re going to lay low to try to avoid them.” He bulges his eyes. “I’m already putting a strategy together.”
I frown at his words. “But having much family is good, non?”
His chest pumps ironically. “Depends on which family you’re talking about.”
“This I understand,” I tell him.
“I know you do. I’m just not in the mood to deal with them today,” he explains. I nod again before glancing toward the packed back seat, taking in the plethora of supplies he gathered.
“You are too kind to me, Tyler,” I admit in a soft whisper. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m happy just to fish.”
“I could say the same. You’ve done a lot for me the past six months, and it’s not something I’ll ever forget.”
“As you have done for me, soldier,” I relay honestly. “It’s been a relief to mentor you. It helps to keep me out of here.” I point to my temple. “Which can be a very dangerous place.”
“Seems like we’re pretty good for each other,” he whispers affectionately before leaning over and nudging my shoulder with his. “You’ve kinda become my new best friend, you know?”
My heart stutters at this admission. “This you believe?”
“Hell yeah, I do,” he draws out before frowning. “Am I not yours?”
“I don’t have any friends,” I joke.
“Thanks a lot,” he retorts sarcastically as he grips the seat rest behind my head and glances back to exit the driveway. As he does, I take in the changes in him—so much more confidence from the shadow-ridden boy who approached me for help last fall. My chest squeezes at his admission that I might have had something to do with this.
“What, General?” His lips lift slightly as he senses my speculative stare. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m excited to fish.” A half-truth. The other half is that I believe this admission about our friendship. In the months I’ve mentored him, I have spent fewer days lost in my mind—in the haze—while trying to sort my past in the bath and consuming slightly less drink.
As we pull off, I can’t help my excitement in believing again—trying is working.
Several minutes into the drive to the other side of town and after stopping for fresh worms, Tyler turns onto a winding road. The sudden shift in the atmosphere is jarring as I take in our new surroundings. Outside our windows, endless evergreens give way to rapidly blooming terrain. Just ahead, water trickles over two-toned, jagged cliff rock, and a cloudless, neon blue sky hovers above.
“It’s a beautiful day,” I utter, my voice coated by my captivation.
“Very,” Tyler agrees easily next to me. “This was a great idea.”
One last turn has us emerging through a vast opening that gives way to a blindingly beautiful stretch of massive, sprawling green hills. To either side of us sits endless rows of crooked-branched trees, their blossoms solid white. The rest of the grounds are blanketed in a colorful array of various blooming bushes and mixed grasses. The sun lights much of the bright lime-green hillsides, those still shaded in contrast next to them, making the view even more spectacular.
“Mon Dieu!” My God. “Tyler! Is this the land, your family’s land?”
His widening smile pops his dimple. “Yeah, and I actually know a guy who’s about to inherit some of it, but he’s kind of an asshole.”
I frown. “Why is he asshole?”
Smile dimming, he takes his arresting, warm brown eyes from the road and gently rolls them over my face. “Because he didn’t realize his new best friend loves to fish.”
“Tyler! You will own some of this land?” I exclaim, stunned by both our surroundings and his admission.
“Yeah, fifty acres will be signed over to me when I turn eighteen at the end of the summer.”
Utterly enthralled, I get lost in the misty sunrays beaming down upon his family’s orchard as if in blessing. “It is a dream here!”
“Ah, so she’s a sucker for scenery.”
“I suck for what?” I ask in mild confusion as he chuckles at my expense, and I narrow my eyes.
“Don’t raise your sword just yet, General. It means you love nature’s view.”
“More than you could ever imagine,” I tell him honestly.
“I think I’m getting a pretty good idea, but I’ll show you what I’m to inherit on our next fishing trip. I want to bait the hooks while the fish are biting.”
I nod as Tyler takes a turn on a long gravel road, slowing the sedan as we pass some stacked crates. I inaudibly sound out the name Jennings & Sons, which is printed on the side of each. My eyes feast on it all as questions start to pour from me. He patiently answers each of my inquiries, a constant smile playing on his lips due to my enthusiasm until he parks next to a large, white, two-story farmhouse. A house that is situated perfectly amongst the land for the best imaginable view.
Stepping out of my car, mixed scents start to fill my nose. Feeling transported, I inhale deeply as I turn to him. “I cannot imagine waking up to such a view! I would never stop smiling! Though I do not think I would stay indoors if I lived here . . . What?” I ask, of his return expression. “What is this look?”
He shakes his head, a clear something in his eyes even as he answers, “Nothing.”
“Where will we fish here?” I ask, scouring the florescent green grounds, the rolling hills, and endless rows of apple trees, seeing no pond.
“We’re not. This is my granddad’s house. We’re just here to switch modes of transportation.” He points to a utility vehicle parked just a few feet away, and my smile only grows.
“So much history here,” I gawk, grabbing the poles from the back seat as he goes to gather the cooler. “You must be so very proud!”
“Of the history part and of most of my family, yeah, I am. All military, most serving before quietly retiring here.”
I still, knowing that he can’t possibly know that his privilege is my life’s dream. Instead of the bitterness I thought I would feel at this, I find myself happy for him.
“That is your plan?” I ask. “To soldier and one day live on this land?”
“Absolutely, and not one I have any intention of messing with. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”
“Oui”—I wrinkle my nose—“no . . . fix what?”
He again chuckles at my expense, but it doesn’t irritate me like it does when Dom does the same. Tyler’s intent is never meant to humiliate me.
“It’s an expression that means if it works for someone, there’s no reason to change it.”
“Ah,” I say as we continue to unload the back of my car. “Ain’t,” I laugh, “what a stupid word.”
“It’s not really a proper word,” he relays. “More a Southern thing.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
The sun beams down on him as he lifts the cooler and leads me toward the vehicle as I haul the poles and tackle box behind him.
“Did you know land has been a main reason for many wars?”
His dimple appears. “And here I thought I had the day off.”
“It’s just conversation. Your America has participated in over one hundred sixty wars, only just over two hundred years old.”
“So, what you’re saying is we’re nosy bastards,” he declares.
“Oui, but you’ve also been very powerful allies.”
“It’s your America, too, you know,” he points out.
“I’m French. I will die a French immigrant because I don’t align wholly with all American values, but I’m happy to borrow your land. Your reason to fight.” I trail off and feel his stare on my profile. “This is a very good reason to fight, Tyler. To protect this land, I would fight.”
“Agreed, they don’t call it God’s country for no reason.”
I look over to him. “That’s what it is called?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, just as taken briefly by our view.
“It’s the perfect name for this land. There is so much peace here.”
A mischievous glint flashes in his eyes. “Peaceful, huh?”
“Very peaceful.” I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Just hold that thought.”
* * *
“Mon Dieu!” I roar, a hysterical laugh leaving me because of Tyler’s erratic driving. “Imbecile! You’re going to kill us!” I shout over the engine as he speeds down a very steep slope, never letting off the gas.
“You sound really terrified,” he muses sarcastically as the vehicle takes every bit of his abuse. My eyes bulge as I notice a deep gap between some hills feet ahead and screech his name in warning. When Tyler does not deter, I brace myself for impact, shrieking with fear as he laughs at my reaction. Peeking through my fingers, I’m shocked as he steers right for a fallen tree limb before turning back to see we glided right over it.
“Wow, fuck!” I exclaim, thoroughly impressed with the vehicle’s capabilities.
“Right?” Tyler chuckles.
“It performs very, very well.”
“I know.”
I glance over to where he steers, the breeze in the open cabin lifting his sunlit brown hair. “You’re still an imbecile!”
My poke does not faze him, his smile telling. “I consider it a term of endearment coming from you.” He eyes me. “Don’t forget I heard you unleash on the mailman last week.”
I frown. “Because he knocked over my plant with his carelessness. Connard.” Jerk.
“And that’s why I’m sure he’s reconsidering his career choice,” he jokes as we glide effortlessly over another gaping hole. I whip my head back in disbelief. “It’s all-terrain,” he calls over the whirring between us. “That means—”
“I know what that means,” I scold in irritation while still smiling. “What is this vehicle called?”
“A Polaris Ranger.”
“If ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” I shout.
“Not exactly how it’s used, but you’ll get there.” He shoots me a confident wink, and I burst into more laughter as he rounds a hillside, the two of us riding vertically while holding onto the frame of the Ranger. Nervous, excited laughter continues to pour out of me with the knowledge that if my door weren’t firmly shut, I’d be rolling down the side of a hilltop.
My enthusiasm only grows when the pond comes into view. Tall mixed grasses surround it, encompassing all sides of the water. Moss covers part of the surface next to the outstretched dock, which stops halfway into the length of the pond. The only sign of life is small ringlets of tiny waves breaking over the surface of the otherwise calm water. A peace washes over me as we unpack the car and sit next to one another on the dock, feet dangling. We spend a few quiet minutes baiting and casting our lines before he speaks up.
“What were you like in school?”
His question catches me off guard, but I answer honestly. “Bored”—I shrug—“and mostly annoyed.”
“Sounds about right,” he chuckles.
“I started in school very late because of my father and was behind in their curriculum, and in learning English. This caused me many conflicts with the girls. I did not like them because they were boring, and they did not like me because I kissed all the boys,” I tell him. “I was a salope—” I search for the English word. “. . . tramp.”
Tossing his head back, he howls with laughter at my admission.
“A kissing tramp,” I correct. “I did not fuck the boys.” His eyes widen as he chokes slightly on his receding laugh, and I shrug. “It’s the truth.”
“Well, thanks for the honesty,” he says with a humorous shake of his head.
“What?” I counter. “I never understand why so many people polite dance around the truth so much. It annoys me.”
“I’m learning that. It’s just that your delivery is just a bit . . .” He trails off.
“You won’t offend me, but I know what you’re not wanting to say. That I talk like a bitch.”
His eyes bulge. “Not a bitch, just bold with your word choice, more like . . . brash,” he says.
“Brash. I like that. I am brash.”
“Unapologetically,” he confirms before biting his lip and nailing me with his soul-filled stare, “but you should know that’s why you’re often misunderstood.”
“I don’t care if they understand,” I declare defiantly.
“That’s admirable,” he says, and I sense his curious stare but glance over to see his eyes on his bobber.
“Not admirable. My brash honesty has cost me much, but I still see no point of being so overly careful around the truth.”
“Trust me, I’m annoyed myself. Both my parents have been tap dancing like fucking professionals around the truth for years now.”
“You can talk to me about it, Tyler. I, too, struggle very much with forgiving my own papa for unforgivable sins he committed. I won’t be brash to you about this.”
“Hey.” He commands my attention. “Don’t ever tap dance around the truth with me, Delphine. I would fucking hate it.”
I nod.
“So, these unforgivable sins he committed, you mean you and Celine’s dad?”
When I shake my head, Tyler’s eyes widen in shock.
“Celine was not my true sister. Her father was my father Matis’s nephew.”
“So, that means Dom and T aren’t really your nephews, but your cousins?”
I nod.
“Holy shit . . .” His mouth gapes as he stares at me in shock. “Do they know?”
“I told Dom that day in the snow.” He nods. “And I told Ezekiel some of my past before he left for school in France, but this is a secret I share with you, only you. A new best friend secret.”
“I won’t tell a soul, Delphine. I promise.”
“Merci.” I inhale deeply as I scour the grounds. “Relation doesn’t matter anyway, Tyler. Celine became a sister to me in my heart.” I palm my chest. “She accepted me as I am. The filthy, brash orphan dumped on her parent’s doorstep. She loved me as I was, and in return, I loved her the same, so we had the sister relationship she wanted us to have. I care for my nephews the same way, and relation will never matter.”
“I get it . . . but you just said orphan?” I tense at this. “Can I ask what happened with Matis and to your mother?”
I bite my lip, and he nudges me. “Hey, some other time, then. We’re here to fish today and get out of our heads, so let’s do that, deal?”
“Deal,” I say, turning my face up to the sun. “Deal, private.”
Not long after, my bobber goes under. We spend most of our day fishing, and to my delight, when the fish don’t bite for Tyler, he reports the catfish have turned lazy, preferring the cold water of the bottom, no longer trying for the worm. To him, I report he’s a terrible, lazy fisherman, which earns me a scowl. Just after, he takes me on the Ranger to explore some of the orchards. Our plan is to cast lines again after sundown when it has cooled enough in temperature.
For some of the day, we shoot what guns he could gather, and I surprise him by taking the tops off several plastic bottles he lined up yards away.
“Shit,” he says, “remind me not to piss you off.” He bulges his eyes, which has me laughing before I again take aim and fire.
“It would be good for you to try for marksman certification,” I tell him between shots.
“Are you?” he asks curiously.
“I was never a real soldier, so I never tested.”
“Well, you have a terrifyingly accurate aim.” He swallows in intimidation as I take another top off before shooting holes through the water-filled bottle and blasting it off a fence post. “You’re a fucking headhunter,” he gawks.
“Like riding a bike,” I boast proudly, and he nods in approval of my use of the metaphor.
Just before sundown, Tyler starts a small fire on the top of a grassy hillside. Kneeling, he adds some of our collected kindling as the sun begins to slowly sink past his shoulder. Its descent merges the blue sky with a dazzling melody of pink, orange, red, and gold. The fire chases the slight chill now seeping over the land, the grass cooling under my bare thighs. I run my palms over my arms at its arrival.
“Cold?” he asks. “I can head down the hill and find a blanket.”
“I’m far too happy to be uncomfortable. This land . . . this place has a magic kind of peace. This has been the perfect day, Tyler. Merci,” I whisper, hearing the slight shake in my voice. My spoken happiness clear in my words.
He stills at this briefly before responding. “My pleasure. We can make this a weekly thing if you want.”
I perk at his proposal. “I would be your new fishin’ buddy?”
He nods. “Slot is all yours if you want it.”
“I want it,” I tell him honestly. “For so long, I have wanted—” I stop myself as he tilts his head, his chocolate eyes prodding mine.
“What?”
“This land, this life. Your future was my dream for myself for so long. To soldier and then to settle in a place like your God’s country. To fish and hunt, to watch the sunset every single day as seasons change.” I sigh, palming the grass behind me as I inhale deeply. “I am truly happy for you, Tyler. For you to have this dream to make your future reality.” I feel the weight of his stare and shake my head in slight embarrassment. “I must seem like a simple woman to you.”
“Simple? Shit,” he chuckles. “That’s not a word to describe you—the opposite of the word to describe you, Delphine. And you loving to fish and hunt. Well, that description is pretty alluring for a lot of the men around here. Trust me.”
“I don’t at all care about that,” I tell him sharply, too sharply. Too brash.
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “I’m just saying you’re not simple, that’s all.”
“I know . . .” I bite my lip, and he tosses some kindling at me.
“Stop pausing,” he scolds gently. “Best friends don’t pause when they talk. That’s a rule.”
I nod. “I say that I don’t care, that is mostly the truth, but I know I make it hard for people to like me.”
“I like you,” he says softly, tossing the last of the kindling on the fire. “And fuck anyone who doesn’t. Like I said, you’re misunderstood. That much I know, so if they don’t want to take the time to figure that out about you, it’s their loss.”
I can tell he wants to say more, but I change the subject.
“How will we fish in the dark?”
He grins. “I’ve got us covered. Electric lanterns.”
“Smart,” I give in compliment.
“Yeah, well, some tiny French lady—who gives me a lot of hellacious orders—is always on my ass to stay prepared.”
“It’s good advice,” I boast as the sun starts to slowly disappear between the hills. “Soldier, do you prefer sunrise or sunset?”
“Sunset,” he answers quickly. “You?”
“Sunset.” I give him honesty. “Because it means I have made it another day.” A day fighting through the haze and farther from my past.
“I get that,” he tells me.
“You so often understand what I say, Tyler, and there is meaning behind it. Some people simply pretend. Dom is lucky to have you as a friend.”
“I’m your friend, too,” he reminds me.
“Then I am also lucky,” I tell him.
“Me too, General Brash.” He winks, the breeze lifting his dark hair as he glances over at me. It’s then I notice his rich brown eyes are crowded by thick, naturally curled lashes—it is probably why I find them so beautiful.
As the sun sinks a little deeper and the fire begins to glow a little brighter, I perk at the sound that starts to surround us.
“I know that calculating look,” he says, “what’s going on in that beautiful brain?”
“Does your watch have a timer?”
“Yeah”—he angles his head—“why?”
“I want you to time fifteen seconds when I say and count the cricket chirps when you start it.”
“Okay.” He clicks his watch a few times and nods when the allotted time passes. “Done.”
“How many chirps?” I ask.
“Twenty-three,” he replies.
“If the crickets chirp twenty-three times in fifteen seconds, you add forty to that, and it gives the current temperature in American degrees. Or very close to.”
“Huh,” he says, glancing down at his watch and pressing a button to light it to see the screen, which I assume gives him both time and temperature. “Shit, you’re right, it’s close, sixty-two degrees. That’s a pretty cool trick.”
“If you tune into the crickets and remain aware, the absence of chirp can alert you to the presence of predators and help you gauge the direction the danger is coming from.”
“Unreal,” he whispers, staring at me over the low-lit fire.
“What?” I smile.
“Leave it to you to find a teaching moment out of nothing.”
“You knew about crickets’ chirps to tell the temperature,” I confront in a dry tone.
His jaw drops slightly. “How did you know that?”
“I can detect lies, Tyler. I’m very good at it.”
“Then you must teach me this, General Yoda. And I didn’t lie. I just didn’t want to impress you too much,” he jokes.
“Ha, you caught no fish, and if you want to impress me, disappear into the wild with nothing but a knife for two weeks.”
He gapes at me. “Seriously?”
“It’s a true test of man’s abilities, a test you are not yet ready for,” I declare as I stand, scouring the cliffside adjacent to us. “Ah, Tyler, come.”
Without hesitation, he follows me as I walk over to the clay ridge at the side of the mountaintop and stop when I see what I’m looking for.
“You know, I grew up here,” he says, “but I have a feeling you’re about to embarrass the shit out of me.”
“You’re young,” I state, bending to the protruding foliage, urging him closer. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. God may provide, but we still need education from mentors of what to look for. See?” I point to a branch protruding from the cliff rock. “Count the leaves. See the pattern?”
He nods, hovering just behind me. “Yeah.”
I gently pull one of the roots from the rock, making sure to keep it intact. “Smell,” I encourage, lifting the root to him, “take a small bite.”
He does, and the genuine surprise in his face is my reward. “Licorice . . . no wait, root beer?”
“Sassafras,” I tell him, dropping the root and wiping my hands, “which does make root beer, but you can make tea with it. It has nutritious value, vitamins, antoxidants, and is used in many medicines.”
He shakes his head in astonishment. “And once again, my general summons a lesson out of nothing.”
“Not nothing, never nothing. God provides,” I say, soaking in the peace surrounding us. “He gave us everything we need. He mapped this earth with hints and clues, colored nutritious food. He marked snakes and other animals for danger. God gave us so much to guide us.”
“Let me guess, Matis taught you that?”
I nod, scanning my sucker scenery view as the last of the sun sinks behind the hills. “My papa . . . Matis was so smart, Tyler,” I relay, my whisper strained.
“So is his daughter,” he relays in a rough whisper of his own, gripping my hand and lifting it slowly to his lips. My chest stutters at the look in his eyes. A look he maintains as he presses and holds his warm lips to my hand before lowering it, spreading his thumbs across where the kiss lingers as if to push it further into my skin.
Ripping my hand away, I ignore his flinch, playing blind to it as I turn and begin to walk toward the dock. Equally and purposely deafening myself to the “I’m sorry,” which carries on the wind behind me as he quickly snuffs the fire out by kicking dirt over it with his boots.
Not long after, those boots sound on the wood planks of the dock before Tyler slowly takes a seat next to me, lighting the space between us with the soft glow of the lanterns. We sit for many uncomfortable minutes, casting our lines as my anxiety continues to build from our exchange on the hilltop. Cursing my stupidity, I turn to him to ask him to take me home when he speaks up.
“I didn’t forget,” he utters softly, opening the cooler before lifting a flask toward me.
Shame fills me at the sight of it, and I bite my lip and nod in silent thank you. Taking several numbing sips, I mull over the nature of our unconventional friendship, of my influence, and the unfriendly kiss and discomfort now between us because of it. Disheartened, I’m just about to speak when he nudges me.
“Come on, fishin’ buddy, cast your line. I need to catch at least one before we go home, or my man card might get revoked.”
Nodding, I cast my line before slowly easing back into the peace surrounding us, the cicadas calling loudly on the chilly breeze as night sets in. “Tyler?”
“Hmm?”
“What is man card?”
* * *
General Half-Pint: Tyler is Delphne questn for sodler
I know who it is, General. Sure, what’s your question?
General Half-Pint: Can fish todya
Sorry, I can’t fish today. I’m in class and have errands to run for my mom after. How about tomorrow after class? I get out at noon.
General Half-Pint: Oui m erci pleas e vry muc h want to fish with solder
I want to fish with you again, too, General. I’m looking forward to it.
General Half-Pint: one more queston for solder
Anything.
General Half-Pint: Be honets wiht me
Of course, I’ll be honest. No tap dancing around the truth. Promise.
General Half-Pint: Jean domicn humulate tell me my tex t is so bad d
I will not lie. Your texting is rough. You get letters backward, use space when you shouldn’t, and often misspell by a letter or two. No punctuation either.
General Half-Pint: Merde I knw Jean not li e
General Half-Pint: Merde is shit in French
I know what it means. And you didn’t misspell that. Ha Ha!
General Half-Pint: ha ha funy I resad and wri et so bettr before haze
You read and wrote better before the haze?
General Half-Pint: oui now embarees taks me very logn time to make tetx and read text kyesboard very har d to deciph er Frech esier
I’m sure it is easier. French is your first language, BUT I promise I understand your texts just fine. I promise. I’ll be patient and wait for any text you want to send me.
General Half-Pint: nerci fish bud dy
How about we text every day to practice?
General Half-Pint: merci doo not think I stupd wo man I am not stupd i
I could never think you’re stupid. You’re fucking brilliant. You speak English fine. More than fine. You just misfire a few verbs here and there and still need a little Americanization and help with metaphors. Which I can help with. I’m sorry I poke fun at you. I won’t be an asshole about it anymore.
General Half-Pint: non solder k eep poke me asshle
Ha ha, there’s my brash General.
General Half-Pint: Donot want fee sorry for me don want fsel like imbelcile when tex t poeple
You’re anything but an imbecile. Take your time. I’ll wait for every text you send. Don’t feel bad. It’s no big deal. Dom’s a dick for making you feel bad about it.
General Half-Pint: You are go od best frend solider merci ha ve much happy in heart for yuo
I’m happy in my heart about it, too, General. I’ve got your back, always, Delphine.
General Half-Pint: I knw this mea ns
Good, because that’s the truth. I’ll always look out for you. Please don’t let Dom hurt your feelings over this anymore.
General Half-Pint: Oui goodnigt privite
Night, General.
Report chapter Comments
Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.