Last Turn Home

Chapter 8 - You Meant Something

CHAPTER 8

CARLY

The following morning, I woke up at the crack of dawn and glanced out of my bedroom window, only to find John already up and at 'em, feeding and watering the horses. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a button-up flannel shirt, pulling my hair up into an easy ponytail.

"You're up early," I called out when I came out and started making my way towards the stables, putting my hand over my eyes to shield them from the rising sun. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Starvin'," John grinned, spinning around on the heels of his muddy boots.

"How long have you been up anyway?" I asked as I reached the stall he was in, watching him as he scooped manure and dumped it in the nearby wheelbarrow. By the looks of it, he'd been at work for a while already.

"You don't wanna know," he replied with a dismissive shrug.

I leaned against the open stall gate, watching the way he moved. "Are you okay?" I asked, suddenly noting how tired he looked. Had he slept at all these last few days? "John, just stop for a sec," I added when he made a move to brush by me, completely disregarding my question.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," he snapped.

"Okay... but if there's somethin' wrong that I can help–" I began.

"Just drop it Carly, I don't need your help," he barked.

"Fine, don't bite my head off," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest, concern still etched on my face. "Just come and eat when you have the chance okay?" I added, resting my hand on his uninjured arm.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Okay," I nodded, turned on my heels and left him alone.

I went back out and made my way around a large puddle. It'd rained all night so the ground was pretty soggy, but there was barely a cloud up in the sky now, so I was going to bet my money on the fact that it'd be a pretty nice day.

Too bad; I would've liked a reason to relax indoors and get back to my book.

As I made breakfast my mind was still on John. Something was clearly bothering him, and I hoped it had nothing to do with me. Was I being completely self-centered by thinking that?

The thing is, and I realized this as I filled a plate with pancakes, I really didn't know anything about him and he didn't know anything about me. Regardless of the way I felt about him, we were still pretty much strangers... acquaintances at the very least.

I couldn't think about it too much, or else I'd drive myself crazy. I focused on my second batch of pancakes instead.

When, half an hour later, John still hadn't come to the house to eat, I brought him a plate.

"Listen, I don't know if I did somethin' or if you're just... I don't know... the male version of PMSing... but John, I actually don't want you to starve to death believe it or not, so eat the goddamn pancakes," I told him, pushing the plate into his hands and walking away before he had a chance to say anything.

JOHN

I stood there with the pancakes, feeling like a complete jackass.

I wasn't used to anyone giving a damn about me, and to be honest I didn't quite know how to react. I didn't like some of these new feelings: it was more than just physical attraction... and along with all of those emotions came vulnerability.