In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(134)
“Rex, I—”
“But my point, Daniel,” he says, his face close to mine, “is that all those things are true. We are good for each other. But not too good to be true. Complementary. That’s the word, right?”
I nod.
“The other night, you said that we mean different things when we say I love you. That you don’t know what it means to have someone love you. This is what it means. It means doing things together and learning what each other needs. I give you what you need. You give me what I need. And they’re not the same. And that’s fine. It’s not too good to be true. It’s just good.”
I’m nodding spasmodically as Rex talks. My hands fist automatically, which looks ridiculous with the gloves I’m wearing.
“But I have to tell you that… I just—still, every time you start to say something serious like this, a part of me thinks you’re about to end it. I don’t mean to go there, but I just—I’m sorry.”
I search his face for any clue that I haven’t just set us back months. Rex lets out a breath.
“I know,” he says. “I can see it in your face.”
“It’s just where my mind goes, automatically,” I say, wanting to explain.
“Well, I think we’ve established that where your mind goes and the truth aren’t exactly the same place,” he says. “Seriously? Is all you think about serial killers? I think you watch too many horror movies.”
I laugh, incredibly grateful that Rex is willing to joke about it.
“Hey,” he says, “I love the places your mind goes. I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious about it. Just… you know, you don’t have to think that way about me. You’ll see.”
“Okay,” I nod, trying not to sound suspicious. Rex kisses me, his hot mouth a shocking contrast to the cold air around us. I gasp into his mouth and try to put my arms around him, but I lose my balance in these damned boots and start to stumble. Rex tries to grab me, but he overbalances and we both fall into the snow, Rex landing on top of me.
Rex uses his position to kiss me again, and I try desperately to roll us over so he can be the one getting snow jammed into his collar.
“Ha, get off me!” I say. Rex is laughing, trying to find a way to stand up without squashing me. When he finally manages it, and pulls me up with him, he kisses me again, our faces both cold with snow. He reaches down and plucks the saw from its pocket of snow, putting his other arm around me.
“What does that look like to you?” he asks, indicating the spot where we rolled around.
“A murder scene,” I say, but I’m smiling at him.
“Hmph,” he says.
“Well, what does it look like to you, then, Mr. Sweetness and Light?”
“A snow angel,” he says, with an expression that clearly says that this is not what he thinks. “See? Complementary.”
“Fucked-up angel,” I say and grab the saw from him. “Come on. Are we doing this or what?”
It’s cold and I’ve got snow places snow should never be, but I feel warm from the inside out. Rex is gleeful, explaining to me the different types of trees and how long they last. He points out what makes them different, but I’m content just to walk next to him and practice thinking happy thoughts: this is our tree. We’re going to decorate it together. We’re having Christmas together. There will be a fire, and food, and the dog. There will be Rex.
“Hey, you okay?” Rex says, stopping when he realizes I’m a few paces behind him.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just happy.”
Rex’s smile is pure joy. He looks like a little boy who was told he did a good job.
By the time we find our tree, there are families wandering the lanes alongside us, kids plowing through snow that’s up to their thighs, pointing at which trees they want—always the biggest ones.
“That one,” Rex says, pointing to a medium-sized tree at the end of the row. It doesn’t look any different than any of the others to me, but what the hell do I know? The last Christmas tree I had was made of beer cans.
Rex kneels in the snow and starts to saw through the trunk of the tree. I’ve never seen anyone cut down a tree before. It’s strange.
“You want to try?” Rex asks.
I don’t, really, but it seems like one of those things that we’re supposed to do together. I take the saw and slot it into the notch Rex has started. After sawing for a few minutes, I’m exhausted. Rex touches my back and takes over again. When he’s sawn through, we stick the saw into the snow so we can find it again, and walk back to get Wallace. Rex gets on the tractor or baler or whatever it is with Wallace, but there’s only room for two, so I wait for them by the hut.
I’m watching an adorable little girl trying to braid tree branches when my phone rings. I expect it to be Rex, stuck in the snow with Wallace, or Ginger, calling to confirm when I’ll be in Philly for Chanukah. But it’s Brian.
“Dan,” he says.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, before he can say anything, because damn trying to be less suspicious, Brian has never called me in my life.
“Um,” he says, “have you heard from Colin?” His tone of voice says he assumes this is ridiculous but needs to ask.
“No,” I say. “Not since the funeral. Why?”