—— ✥ Brynne had been feeling off ever since the Spring Ball. She hadn’t been prepared for meeting Nolan, and in her classic style, she ended the night on a very sour note. It wasn’t often that Brynne felt overwhelmed. She had an innate desire for adventure, a thrill seeking gene in her core. Every dangerous or unknown thing she could possibly do had made it on her list. But meeting her soulmate… that hadn’t been part of her plan.
It hadn’t gone poorly, at least not at first. She’d forced herself to open up to possibilities, long enough for one dance. Brynne still couldn’t put her finger on exactly what caused her to finally step back from him. Nobody could ever identify the straw that broke the camel’s back. Maybe it had been something about the way he’d spoken to her, like they had known each other forever and would know each other forever more. Or perhaps it was the touch, the burning of her finger leaving a lingering sensation she couldn’t describe.
Either way, her instincts had kicked in and she had left Nolan on the dance floor, with little to no explanation. Brynne would have eventually worked it out on her own, the feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She probably would have realized that the solution to the hollow feeling in her chest was finding Nolan and trying harder to understand their bond. She didn’t need to reach the answer on her own, though. That was where her sister came in.
Their conversation had instilled a small sense of confidence in Brynne, at least about the connection she felt. Fear could be overcome, at least with help, and that was one of Kenzie’s skills. Although she wasn’t ever going to be one hundred percent sure about her actions with Nolan, this was an easy decision.
She wandered through the town, her feet guiding her in unknown directions. She didn’t know how or why, but she trusted them to take here where she needed to be. It was a similar sensation to the ball when her mark had throbbed more or less depending where she walked.
Brynne soon found herself walking down the middle of a street lined with houses, each one different, but all with a fenced yard. Something shifted in her and she knew, somehow, that she was getting closer. Music seemed to drift up the road, but the source wasn’t as clearly identifiable yet, so she kept walking. Maybe whoever was playing it would know if Nolan was around.
There weren’t many people outside, despite the warm sun breaking through the clouds. When she finally saw someone, she stepped off the road and onto the sidewalk, trying to peek over the fence. As soon as she did, she froze. The very man she had been looking for was there, and suddenly her nerves shook her entire body. What if he didn’t want to see her? What if the way she had left the night of the ball had ruined any opportunity they had together? Brynne stood idle, playing with the strap of her bag as she stared.
After several days, the worst of Nolan’s strange symptoms had finally subsided. The aches throughout his body were becoming weaker and less frequent, and no longer did he experience chills that were only intensified by how warm his insides felt. Still, there was one key part of him that remained without much rest: his head.
It had been difficult to bury away the thoughts of the Spring Ball. Daytime brought questions over the cause of his condition, ideas that perhaps it was the champagne or the cozy sausages that had simply gone down him improperly. Nighttime, however, provided the true answers. He could not control his dreams, and so he could not prevent the replay of every step that was taken or the echo of every that was word spoken.
He could not deny that she was more than just another partner in dance.
The appointment that he had scheduled at the local hospital only drove the notion further, fueling the whirlwind that circled within. He subsequently vowed that ‘enough was enough’— he needed to reclaim some measure of control over his life and it would start right in the comforts of his new residence.
Nolan had been outside for hours, intent on finally setting up a garden in the front yard. One would easily believe that the absence of his custom-tailored suits would fill him with immeasurable discomfort; the truth was that he could not have felt more of the opposite. There was unmatched value in hard, physical labor, especially when it bore fruits of all kinds.
His grandfather’s cassettes kept him company, voices of the past crooning through the static of a portable player that had seen far better days. They had not lost their smooth authority, even decades later, and at present they guided him into a reverie that only deepened with every word.
‘ I’m on a lonely road that leads to nowhere ’
There was no telling what point he had joined in on the tune. The only thing that was clear was when he stopped— upon noticing that he wasn’t actually alone.
Nolan remained hunched over his plants, his eyes darting left and right. His cheeks burned, not necessarily as a result of the sun’s rays as much as it was the realization of how unkempt of an appearance he had at that moment. He moved upright slowly, as though doing so would render her unable to notice, but one of his gloves brushed against the bottom of his shirt.
“Sorry, my— my apologies, I d— it’s, ah—” he silently cursed the gracelessness of his being, “It’s good to see you.”
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