guy had only been to winnie’s house once in all the years they had known each other. it had been some backyard barbecue she hosted not long after he started working at city hall, when she still felt obligated to invite everyone and he was still new enough to accept. she could not remember all the details now. only that he had stood in her yard looking stiff and unimpressed, and winnie, in turn, had decided she was not particularly impressed with him either. he had never been back after that until tonight.
now he was standing beneath her porch light, sun still clinging to his skin, the scent of the ocean on him like he had carried part of the beach all the way to her door. winnie watched, helplessly, as his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. he looked like he was searching for the right words and coming up short, which was strange enough on its own. guy always had words. usually too many of them, usually arranged in the most irritating order possible. then his gaze moved past her, into the house, and winnie’s brows drew together. what was he looking for?
the answer came too late. maybe he was checking to see if she was alone. maybe he was looking for signs that someone else had come with her, or that someone had hurt her worse than the red eyes and oversized shirt already suggested. then his brown eyes found hers again and when he finally spoke, something in winnie’s stomach tightened. he was checking on her. guy boucher, who criticized her paperwork and rearranged her bonfire logs and made her feel like a silly girl with a nameplate, had come to her house because he noticed she was gone.
then he stepped closer. not all the way inside. not enough to be improper. just enough to lean into the doorway, bringing himself down closer to her eye level, his voice dropping to match hers in the quiet. that low tenor, softened by his louisiana accent, seemed to wash over her skin before she could brace herself for it. winnie hated that she noticed. hated that even now, with her heart sitting broken in her chest, her body could still respond to the warmth of him. to the closeness. to the way his voice moved over her like a hand she had not given permission to want.
her face flushed then he asked what happened and whatever fragile thing she had been using to hold herself together began to crack. the hurt from earlier rose up again, thick and humiliating, pressing behind her eyes. winnie did not want to cry in front of guy. not the man who already thought she was careless and frivolous and unfit for half the responsibilities she carried around like costume jewelry, but he was there, and he was asking, and worse than that, he looked earnest like he actually wanted to know.
her lip trembled before she could stop it. she bit down on it quickly and looked away. “i’m an idiot.” the words came out small. she let go of the door handle to wipe under her eyes, and the door opened a little more between them, like even her house had betrayed her by making room for him. when she looked back at guy, her mouth pulled into a faint, wounded frown. she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to decide why she was telling him any of this. maybe because he had shown up. maybe because he had asked. maybe because she was tired of pretending she was only embarrassed when really she was devastated.
winnie took a shaky breath. “he didn’t...” she stopped, swallowing hard. “it turns out i was one of many.” saying it made her feel stupid all over again. “he only wanted to have fun,” she continued, voice thin with the effort of keeping it steady. “but he thinks i’m great.” she gave a small shrug, like maybe if she made it look casual enough, it would hurt less. it did not. “so there’s that.” her eyes shone as she looked at guy, all the brightness stripped from her face. “i’m just not someone people take seriously.”
