Chapter 22

Dell's mindwent fuzzy when he returned to his truck. When he backed out of Luca's driveway. When he turned south.

And somehow, a seeming blink of an eye later, he found himself standing inside of Bay Books, in front of Mae, who was arranging books on Dell's bookshelves. Mae had been arranging books on Dell's bookshelves all week. She had this look on her face, every single time he walked in and saw her like this, that made him want to take her lower lip between his teeth.

"He said no."

Mae turned, eyes blinking up at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Luca."

Recognition dawned, and her eyes turned to pools of pity.

"Oh. He's not into it?"

Why had Dell come here? He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be…somewhere, anywhere, outside of his own skin. He'd needed to tell Mae, straight away, some bone deep, instinctual feeling that had swept over him as soon as he'd left Luca's cabin, like when he needed to talk to his mom after a trigger. But he could have just sent a fucking text. Why was he here?

"No," he managed.

"Dell." Mae's eyes were entirely too soft, and she smelled entirely too good. "Oh, Dell, I'm so sorry."

All that honesty shit piled up in his brain, and he almost blurted, I'm sad, but stopped himself just in time. He'd felt like enough of an amateur at Luca's.

"I need some time."

"Of course." Mae nodded, taking a step back, as if they needed an extra barrier between themselves for Dell's processing. Which, well, they probably fucking did. Dell had no idea what he was likely to do, just then. "Take all the time you need. Seriously, Dell."

"Okay." Dell scratched his beard. "Okay."

And he turned and left.

He found himself at the house next, grabbing the dogs. He gathered every single one, even Young, and opened the door of the truck, watched them all hop in, even though he'd never had them all in the truck because Young was still too much of a loose cannon. But he closed the door behind them all with a bang and hoped for the best.

And then they drove.

* * *

When Dell got back to his house that night, an email from The Nature Conservancy sat in his inbox, finally signaling movement about the wetlands at the edge of the old Edwards' farm.

Dell thanked whoever was out there for saving graces.

They'd been in protracted communication about the Edwards tract for months. While Dell always tried to reach out to local land trusts first with spaces like these, all the non-profits in Lincoln County had been strapped for cash lately. But he knew The Nature Conservancy could do something with it, if only the guy in Eugene would come out and walk it with him. Which it sounded, finally, like he would.

Dell was behind on orders for his online shop, too. Had been for weeks.

And so he hunkered down in his workshop, and walked through a marsh with someone who would help save it, and hammered out paperwork, and continued working on Mae's bookshelves, when he could.

Even if he barely talked to her, barely stepped inside the shop, when he did.

The truth was, he wasn't entirely sure how to make this transition. He still felt more raw over Luca than he wanted to be, even if he knew he was being dramatic about it. Sadder about the loss of their potential, perhaps, than what they truly were. Either way, it had been his favorite routine in his new life, and now it was gone.

And approaching Mae—god, he'd really fucked things up with her from the start. Didn't want her to feel like she was just his second choice, now. She was always reading romance novels. She deserved a better start to a relationship than…whatever the mess of the last week had been. Whatever the mess of the last two months had been, maybe.

Did he ask her on a date?

He hadn't been on a date in what felt like a decade. Had never been very good at them, even when he was younger.

God.

A mess.

And then Friday afternoon hit him in the gut.

Maybe it was something about the turn in the road, on his drive home from the post office. The slant of October light through his windshield, the glint of it off the ocean in the corner of his eye. Or perhaps his slow brain had simply finally had enough time for things to sink in.

A few years ago, he'd looked death in the face.

And here he was, next to the Pacific Ocean, safe and fucking alive, feeling bummed because he'd only been able to sleep with a gorgeous man for two fucking years. Feeling conflicted, or guilty, or something, because a beautiful person who made him laugh somehow wanted his sorry ass, too.

If you had told the Dell McCleary of three years ago, newly moved to Greyfin Bay, still recovering from multiple surgeries, nothing but hollow and a little stunned inside, that in a few years he'd be surrounded by the ocean breeze and the dogs that made up his heart, feeling a little sad that his attempt at polyamory didn't quite work out, he would have simply dissociated the entire thought.

Luca had let him go.

Luca had maybe let him go weeks ago.

And Mae was there, waiting. Like she'd always been there, waiting, in his ADU, in his damn Main Street property, inside his skin since she'd first shown up at his doorstep over two months ago.

Life was short. God, life was short. If he hadn't learned that, what was even the point of anything?

What the hell was hewaiting for?

Except one tiny detail snagged in his brain. Luca in his cabin, saying you're not obligated to me. Dell was pretty sure they were safe, but pretty sure wasn't good enough for Dell. Wasn't good enough for Mae. He glanced at the time on the dash.

With a squeal of his brakes, he turned around in the parking lot of the Fin Inn and turned north again, toward the clinic in Lincoln City.

* * *

Mae sat on the kitchen counter, eating out of a carton of Ben Jerry's (prohibitively expensive out here on the coast, but every time Mae waffled in the frozen aisle of the IGA, Jesus nudged her shoulder and said, "I am TELLING you—"). It was a bit of a precarious thing, sitting on the counter; she had to help herself up with a footstool, and her big ass just barely fit before the cabinetry bit into her back.

But she'd discovered recently that it was worth it to sit on this corner. From this corner, she could see around the edge of Dell's house, where the sun peeked through the trees on its way down the horizon. Shining on Dell's overgrown patch of lawn, over the landscaping between his space and hers. She could best picture the ocean here, past that grove of trees, down, down past a few more, until you reached the highway, and then sand: as close to the sun as one could come.

And so Mae sat and ate her ice cream and watched the sky turn peach, and told herself she was just fine.

It was just fine that Dell had barely said two words to her since last Tuesday, over a week ago now, the day he must have spoken to Luca. She had meant it when she'd told him he could take his time, but she hadn't thought she'd be so thoroughly shut out while he processed. She had thought, perhaps naively, after their conversation in his bed, that perhaps they could process whatever had happened together.

But of course, Dell was still Dell. She'd witnessed how he processed things. And so it shouldn't have bothered her that he'd only shown up at the shop intermittently, this past week. That he'd barely even looked at her when he had.

She…well, she missed him. The shop was quieter without the sound of his saws and drills and sanders in the background. He felt almost more remote to her than when she'd first moved in. Remote enough that her doubts began to get the best of her. Maybe, instead of bringing them closer, going to Portland and the night she'd spent in his bed had only spooked him. Maybe something had changed between them, something that couldn't be recaptured now.

Maybe she'd have to drink all of her future matcha lattes alone.

Which, she reminded herself with another shovel of ice cream, was okay.

It had been a bonus. Seeing Dell sing at Moonie's. Getting to hold him that night.

It was okay if all of this had only been a bonus.

His silence would hurt less soon. She was sure of it.

The sound of Dell's truck swept up from the road like an incoming wave, ending with the close crunch of gravel, the abrupt quiet in the cutting of the engine. A moment of stillness, like the holding of a breath before the air was punctuated by the slam of his door. The dogs barked. Mae bit her lip, wondering where he was coming from. What he was wearing today.

And then?—

Three loud raps, right on Mae's door, and she almost fell off the counter.

She couldn't remember a time Dell had knocked on her—his—door, a time he'd even set foot inside the ADU since that first day he'd let her in and handed over the key. Yet before she could even gather herself to get off the counter with grace, another key turned in the lock.

And Dell McCleary strode inside, door slamming behind him. In three long strides, he was there, in front of her, standing at her knees.

Mae blinked.

He appeared almost out of breath, eyes dark and serious. And even if the week of silence between them had, perhaps, hurt her feelings, she was so damn happy to see him that she couldn't help but smile.

"Well, hello," she said.

"Sorry," he answered, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry I didn't wait for you to get the door, sorry I haven't?—"

He grabbed the ice cream from her hand, followed by the spoon. Placed them on the counter a safe distance away.

And when he was done, he rested his hands on her thighs, which had, unbeknownst to her, parted to make room for his.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I wanted to do this right, and I'm sure everything was probably fine anyway, but I wasn't completely sure, that Luca hadn't slept with anyone else, and so I went to get tested, and I've been waiting, but I just heard, and—are you good, too? Health wise?"

Mae was overwhelmed at the sudden closeness of him, so very close and surprising and wonderful, his hands moving up her thighs to grip her hips.

"What?"

Dell's mouth twitched. "Have you been tested since your last partner?"

"I—" Oh god, he smelled like Dell. He was so close. She swallowed. "Yeah. I have."

His hands moved again. They wrapped around the back of her neck, fingers gripping into her hairline, thumbs pushing upward against her jaw. She inhaled a breath she couldn't quite release.

The amusement faded from his eyes, replaced by that dark seriousness once more.

"These lips," he said, right hand crawling over her jaw, until his thumb pressed down on her bottom lip. "You are always biting this lip. Drives me fucking wild."

And Mae had meant every word she'd said to Dell that night in his bed. She had been patient and understanding and she knew he'd stood behind her at the bar like he owned her, had pressed her against his truck; she knew he'd said the words the next morning—I want you so badly, too—but it was possible she hadn't fully believed them until this moment. It was possible she'd forced herself to not believe them, this week. Until now. Until she saw the desire in his eyes. For her. Until his thumb pressed down into her bottom lip.

"Mae," he said, voice quiet as sin, "do you still want this?"

Wordlessly, as much as she could under the command of his palms, she nodded.

The moment he clocked the movement, before her chin had barely dipped, he closed the gap and kissed her.