Kinsley

I've almost completed my thesis and documentation of fieldwork hours. Prior to Noel offering me a place, my wildest dreams never even imagined this.

Being ahead makes me feel giddy. For a different reason than I assumed. Leaving early for Winnipeg... I no longer want to pursue that goal.

After I've completed my work, I want to stick around. If Jack allows me to, I'll pull my weight around here a little more. Instead of just feeding the chickens every morning, I'll do more. Noel may have to teach me, but I'll welcome lessons.

This realization occurred last night while I was poking at my dinner. It terrified me. Despite the time difference, I had to call my therapist back in Winnipeg. She took my call with no objections. Dr. Sullivan was warm and welcoming. She was happy to hear how I was doing. Happy to give me advice and express how proud she is of my progress.

When she asked about the nightmares, I avoided an answer like the plague. Although they've calmed down, they're still graphic and realistic.

All I wanted to discuss were the positives. Once Dr. Sullivan realized I was avoiding the topic, we discussed my daily life. She knows about my friendship with Cole. My friendship with Daisy. How I'm cooking my own meals and living alone. My interest in Noel.

How much I'm enjoying staying here.

Not because of Noel, Cole, Daisy, or Jack.

I'm enjoying myself because I've taken a step out of my comfort zone. A step I thought I'd never be able to take again. Living alone means I don't rely on other people. My grandparents aren't doing my laundry. Tristan isn't here to give me advice about campus. I feel free. Free to be myself and gain independence. 

I used to fear being alone, despite my stiffness towards people. Now, I'm adapting to it. The more time I spend embracing independence, the more I enjoy it.

Right now is a prime example.

I'm sitting on the fence, watching as Buttercup and her beautiful colt interact. Every aspect of maternal behaviour I document puts a smile on my face. So does seeing the colt.

The colt I still haven't named.

It's difficult to name an animal when you need a name as meaningful as Buttercup's.

"Darlin', if you keep frownin' like that, it may become permanent."

I recognize her voice. Closing my notebook, I balance it on the fence and slide down.

Daisy greets me with a hug. Her egg bag makes it difficult, but we manage.

"Daisy," I smile. "Hey."

She flashes me a beaming smile. "Hello there, darlin'. How are you?"

We break the hug, and I respond with a shrug. "Great. Thanks for getting my credit card back to me, by the way. I forgot to thank you last time."

"No worries," she winks. "We were caught up in conversation."

Smiling, I glance down at the knee-high grass. It tickles my skin as it sways with the wind. Daisy's become a good friend. I enjoy her presence. She's fun to be around, and I'm looking forward to a night out with her tomorrow. 

"Besides," she continues. "Cole did the returnin'. I just delivered it." She glances at the pasture. "How's the colt doin'?"

I angle my body to the pasture. Unnamed won't leave Buttercup's side. It's like they're two magnets attracting each other. Their family love melts my heart.

"He's perfect," I reply. "Adorable."

"Indeed," she nods.

We gaze out at the pasture, watching the grass sway while Unnamed suckles.

"Cole and Noel are getting annoyed." I chuckle. "I'm supposed to name the colt. It's been two weeks. Can't think of anything." 

Daisy snorts. "Cole wouldn't know how to name a horse if the name hit him in the head. When Buttercup was born, he was suggestin' names like Sparkles and Rainbow. I told that man we ain't namin' a unicorn."

Laughing is inevitable. "God forbid he ever has kids," I joke. "Sparkles Robinson. That has a nice ring, don't you think?"

Daisy chuckles and turns around, looping her arms over the fence.

"Speak of the devil."

I turn around, looking at Daisy.

Her freckled skin turns pink as she looks away. She also adjusts the positioning of her dress, smoothing the front of it.

I don't know why Daisy's fretting.

Then I see Cole walking up.

Cole can pull off a flannel and ripped jean shorts. It's a sure difference from his regular crisp jeans and button-up. There's a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. His cowboy boots are dusty, as it the backwards ball cap on his head. 

But damn. He can pull it off.

The checkered flannel is rolled up past his elbows, revealing his smooth, tanned skin. Fabric hugs his biceps, giving Daisy and me a prime view of the outline of his muscles. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he saunters over.

No wonder he's becoming an engineer. He sure as hell as the strength for it. Goddamn those arms.

Not once does he look up. He keeps his head low as he walks, only looking up when he's a metre or so away.

There, he stops.

Surprise fills his features. "Daisy."

"Cole," she replies.

The tension between these two is taut. I glance between them. Cole is gnawing on his bottom lip. Daisy is tugging at her ringlet curls.

What sets the atmosphere on fire is Cole's gaze. His green eyes are hungry. He looks like he wants to devour Daisy. Without her cute dress, I might add.

"What's up, Cole?" I ask.

He tears his hungry gaze away from Daisy.

"I was, uh, wondering if you wanted lunch." He glances at the pasture. "Don't know how you sit there and watch Buttercup all day. Doesn't it get boring?"

"I'm passionate about animals," I shrug. "Never really worked with horses before. I'm having fun."

A smile tugs at his lips. "Glad to hear it, love."

He glances at Daisy again. "Want to join us? And don't decline it. You always save the ranch for last. We're your last stop."

Daisy licks her thumb and steps closer to Cole. "You're always a mess, Cole. Nothin' ever changes. Let me get rid of the dirt." 

Cole swats Daisy's hand away. It's easy to tell he's fighting a smile. "I'm fine, Dais."

"You look unkempt!"

Cole ruffles his hair. "Better?"

He looks like a madman.

Daisy gives him a shove. "You're hopeless."

Cole rolls his eyes, turning to me. "What was she telling you, love? You don't have to listen to her."

I bite the inside of my cheek.

It doesn't help.

"Daisy was telling me not to frown," I laugh. Just to show Cole, I shift my expression to what it was before. "All I was doin' was concentratin'."

Cole gapes at me for a moment before he bursts out laughing. It's the kind that makes your stomach muscles cry out in pain. Makes tears trickle down your cheeks.

"Love," he gasps. "Your southern accent is worse than Noel's British one."

Daisy chuckles. "I have to agree with Cole, darlin'."

I flash them a grin. "You should stay for lunch, Daisy. Cole makes fantastic sandwiches."

Her expression softens as her laughter dies out. When she looks at Cole again, I see melancholy in her eyes.

"Sure," she replies. She holds up her bag. "Just need to drop these off for Jack."

Cole holds out his hand. "I can take the bag. Do you want to see if you can convince Noel to join us? He won't take a break."

The defeated tone in Cole's voice makes me glance over my shoulder at the barn. Noel is still on the rooftop. He's working hard in the heat of the sun. When I glance at my phone, I see he's been working since the sun came up. There's nothing wrong with wanting to complete a job. But you need breaks. Otherwise, your mind and body will collapse. Noel's been out there too long. 

"I'll talk to him."

My words surprise me as much as they surprise Cole.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

Noel shouldn't be working. He hasn't been down to get water or reapply his sunscreen. I bet he's fried. Poor guy will look like a plucked chicken at the end of the day.

"Yeah," I nod.

Leaning over, I grab my balancing notebook. "Could you take this inside for me, please?"

Cole takes my notebook. "I'll guard it with my life."

Daisy bumps her shoulder against Cole's. "You better. She's been workin' hard on her thesis."

Flashing them a smile, I head for the barn. When I arrive, I note the ladder and the shirt draped over one rung.

Crossing my arms, I tap my bottom lip. Can I handle looking at Noel when he's shirtless? Not really. Last week, when I ran into him on the pathway, I almost keeled over. Years of farm labour have done him well. So has his tattoo artist.

Every time I see those tattoos, I want to splay my hands across them and outline every cursive word. Every shape. I'm still unaware of the meaning behind them. My curiosity is driving me insane. 

Heights have never scared me, so I climb up the ladder with ease. The roof is slanted, which makes me a little uneasy. My stubbornness doesn't allow me to glance down. I lean towards the slant to counteract the effects while I'm walking over to Noel. Thank God my shoes have grip. 

Up ahead, Noel is leaning over the damaged portion of the roof. He's hammering away at a nail. The noise rattles my brain. It's so loud it almost sets me into panic mode. It's too similar to the accident. 

Stopping, I take several deep breaths. Ruining today with a panic attack isn't on the docket. I refuse to ruin it. 

"Do you ever take a break?"

Noel jumps. The hammer slips from his grip, as do a few nails. The nails continue to roll down the roof until they get caught in the gutter.

"Kinsley! You shouldn't be up here."

I cock an eyebrow. "Am I not equipped to do so? Or is it because I'm a girl?"

Noel stumbles over his words.

Sitting down next to him, I continue with, "Or is it because you know why I'm here? It's time for a break, Noel. I'm laying down the law."

His mouth pinches to one side as he retrieves the hammer. "Is that so?"

Once the hammer is secure in his tool belt, he sits beside me.

I try not to look at his chiselled body. At the scars and tattoos. His hands. Several times, I've seen him strum his guitar. Sometimes, I find myself wondering what else he can do with those fingers. 

"Yes." I point at the house. "Cole and Daisy are inside making sandwiches. You should come eat."

Noel looks at the work he's done. A crease forms between his brows. "I'm almost done."

"You could finish later. After you've eaten, had some water, and applied more sunscreen." I reach over and push him down. He doesn't fight me. Instead, he leans forward, giving me a view of his back. It's covered in scars. One on his left shoulder blade is prominent. His scars can be a topic for another time, though.

He's as red as a lobster.

"You're burnt, Noel."

His grin is impish when he sits up. "It's hot."

I roll my eyes. "No shit. You should've applied sunscreen. I don't understand what you were thinking."

Noel leans back, resting on his elbows. His long legs are stretched out in front of his. His dirty blond hair looks like spun gold. He looks at me, squinting against the sun that's beating down upon us. One cheek is lifted. His nose is wrinkled. "I was trying to get rid of my farmer's tan."

Just like Cole, this man is hopeless. 

"Come on," I say.

Climbing to my feet, I dust off any residue from my shorts. Then I hold out my hand.

Noel is hesitant to take it. He glances at his work.

"No." My voice is stern. "You're not finishing this job right now, Noel. You need food, sunscreen, and water. Some aloe vera will help, too."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Are you applying it?"

"If I have to," I retort.

His eyebrows raise in surprise.

My cheeks turn pink. I wasn't expecting a retort to exit my mouth, either. It sounds too much like flirting. Maybe I am. I don't know. Everything feels messy right now. I'm still being pulled in two different directions. 

Confusion aside, my words have done the trick.

Sighing, Noel grabs my hand. I help him to his feet. Sweat glistens, and my eyes follow every contour of his body. I feel guilty for admiring his body. For wanting to trace his tattoos. To feel his lips on mine again.

I have cleaved my heart into two pieces, despite the stitches that are repairing it. Moving on has never felt closer. But I'm too scared to let go. To risk losing the memories I have with Aaron. With Mads. My family.

Fear still influences me, no matter how hard I try to forget it.

Yet I can't prevent myself from asking Noel a question. The one that's burning on my tongue.

"Why a birch tree?" I ask.

Noel freezes. His shoulders turn tense. When he turns around, his lips are pressed together.

He expels a deep breath.

"In Celtic mythology, birch is a tree of new beginnings. It symbolizes renewal and purification." He glances down at his ribcage, where beads of sweat are trailing down, making his tattoo glisten. "The raven is an ill omen. It's associated with loss. I'm getting four more ravens at my next appointment." He gestures to the empty branches. "They'll be here."

Noel's tattoo is a double-edged sword. It represents the good and the bad. Hope and despair.

"Why?"

A haunted look fills his brown eyes as he looks away. Out into the distance. From here, you can see the vast property his family owns. In the distance, a lake and the mountains surrounding it.

"The past isn't kind, Kinsley," he sighs. "I'm not ready to discuss it."

Irritation doesn't spark in my blood. Nor does frustration. Noel's words have hit too close to home. I also feel terrible. All this time, I've said he could never comprehend what's happened to me. Perhaps I'm wrong.

God, I'm ignorant.

Ignorant to protect myself, but ignorant nonetheless.

I flash him a weak smile. "That's okay. Whenever you're ready."

Noel gives my hand a squeeze. My blood turns hot, making my body feel like a ravaging fire. A blaze I can't extinguish.

My emotions terrify me. Ever since the accident, I've been distant. My walls have been powerful. Now they feel like dust. Emotions I thought I'd never feel again have bulldozed the walls, reducing them to nothing.

I'm terrified.

Without another word, Noel follows me down the ladder. I restrict myself from glancing upward while he climbs down. All I do is stare at the pasture while listening to the rungs of the ladder as they creak beneath his weight.

Once Noel's at the bottom, he stumbles a little. Over his untied shoelace. My hand reaches out to steady him.

The gesture catches us off-guard.

I stare at him.

He stares at me.

Dropping my hand from his shoulder, I avert my gaze to the compact dirt. Noel grabs his shirt from the rung and pulls it on. Then he fixes his shoelace. 

He clears his throat. "We should, uh, get going."

"Yeah," I nod. "That's a good idea."

Swallowing, Noel takes my hand and tugs me in the house's direction. My blood ignites again. So does the guilt. I'm torn between two pathways. Stuck in a blaze of emotions.

Realization sparks.

Blaze.

"Blaze," I mutter.

I glace at the pasture. My words are a whisper in the wind. "Blaze. That's what I'll name you."