Valentine's Day was soon upon Jackson, you helped decorate the church in preparation. Now deep into your second job cycle of "getting your feet wet." It was maintenance, it was rather quiet, everyone kept to themselves. Gathering trash, shoveling, relative cleaning, tending to minor fixit jobs and then special stuff like this. You really did enjoy the decorating; the school had made some things for the celebration along with other special handmade props that featured hearts galore.

You stayed until midnight, indulging in the champagne. Evidently the bartender fermented his own, and had been saving it all year.

Your indulgence in the champagne had caught up with you and your head was buzzing. The tables had been moved from the center of the room to the walls— making room for dancing. The speakers blared 90s alternative; you laughed a little to yourself. Only imagining the scenario in which it had been decided that this was the music they'd play. One head light by the wallflowers picked up and you could see the people shuffling around trying to find a way to dance to the tune. Laughing inwardly, you moved yourself to one of the corner tables to hunker down with your champagne and people watch.

Danny had been the only one to approach you tonight. Loneliness crept up inkling through your body, only to be numbed by the alcohol. Maybe you should feel worse about it all but not right now. And maybe you were being too hard on yourself, why did you feel a need to make friends so quickly? (Because you're lonely) there was a constant push and pull— not wanting to care too much about anyone but also craving companionship. You stopped the thoughts as quickly as they came, you definitely would cry. You were always a drunk crier. Your mind flashed mildly to all of the ridiculous things you had cried over while drunk. Your friend had straightened her hair for a party once, you cried about how beautiful it had been.

Trying to fill your mind with something else, you cast your glance to the dance floor to play the name game. Which was just trying to remember people's names. It wasn't going well, there were possibly 3 Tyler's out there. Joel crossed your mind; you scanned the room in hopes of finding him. With no luck.

"You sit alone a lot," a voice called from your right.

You jumped and turned to see who was talking, silently hoping they weren't talking to you. It was Cassidy, she worked in the stables, you had worked with her the week before. Your mind blurred as you tried to recall anything about her.

"Just an observation." She said now looking out to the crowd, arms crossed over her chest. Her tone was hard to gauge, this felt like an accusation more than an 'observation.'

You shrugged taking her in before you spoke, letting the awkwardness in. She was probably around your age. She had braided her black hair back into a short ponytail where small tendrils jutted out every which way. Her features were soft despite her stiff posture. There was a deep skinny scar near her lips that seemed to pull the right upper lip to the left ever so slightly. "Astute observation."

"Thought you could use the company, though I think the champagne might already be sitting here with you." She said nodding to your empty glass.

"The champagne and I were having a great conversation." You laughed loudly at your own joke. You looked to her clamping your hand over your mouth to muffle the laugh.

She looked calm and collected, though stiff. "How are you adjusting? I know it's a lot at once."

You shrug at this, your thoughts are clouded. "I think it's going okay. I sort of made a friend." You glanced over to Ellie who was giggling with some of her friends. "Though my friend," you said putting the word 'friend' in air quotes, "is a 15 year old, wise beyond her years, but still 15."

Cassidy nodded at this; her stiff stature softened. "I'm your friend, if you'd like to be."

"Well, now I have two friends, look at that." You said smiling to her.

"We should get lunch next week huh?" She said uncrossing her arms and leaning on the table.

"That would be nice." You smiled.

You sat the rest of the night making small talk with Cassidy. It felt bizarrely normal, you let the normalcy wash over you.

—

Lunch with Cassidy almost became a daily occurrence. You learned she had arrived with a larger group a few years ago. She had a wife— whom you had yet to meet, but from what you had heard she was the best person to exist. Cassidy grew up in Wyoming on a ranch, and quickly rose to one of the head stable leaders. She helped train the horses and was eager to show you all the tricks to riding. She had said it in a more eloquent way, but you couldn't remember the word she used.

As the weeks passed you often felt trapped in your own body. The new push of a functioning society threw you back years. You felt newly 24 again trying to navigate adult life. You fell back into it easily, however each time you had to restrain yourself. You were almost in your mid-forties— though you didn't know how to act like a woman in her forties. Should you be having this many insecurities about what to wear? How to approach new people? So far it had been a loose only speaking when spoken to. Loneliness continued to eat at you.

Cassidy made it easier, bringing you under her wing in a sense. When the trial basis of all the jobs was finally finished you requested to work in the stables. Cassidy was excited to have you on board full time. Though you'd be doing the grunt work to begin with— mostly shoveling out stalls. You were happy to have a familiar face always around. It was almost the end of February by then, the snow still persisted, and you invested in a nice pair of handmade mittens to keep you warm. The horse barn was always cold.

You finally settled into a routine; the stables were nice despite the constant poop scooping. However, you found yourself still keeping to yourself, going a few days where Cassidy was the only person who you'd have a real conversation with. Sometimes after his shift you'd chat with Tommy, but he always seemed to be in a hurry. There was the occasional glance passed between you and Joel. Though he still was relatively unapproachable unless absolutely necessary.

"You're my only friend here." You had said to Cassidy that day at lunch. You were sitting at a small card table in the stable offices. "How does one make new friends? I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

She looked up from her lunch and gave you a long look before speaking. "Well, I um..." she looks down at her lunch. "I'm gonna be honest with you, you're kinda scary looking sometimes."

Your eyebrows rose, the look of surprise spread across your face.

Her general stiffness melted, and she quickly leaned over resting her hand near you. "No! You're just hard to read and the people here— while friendly— are just cautious." She stopped to take a bite of her sandwich. "And it's been a while since someone new came and stayed. There has only been 2 other people since I came," she counted on her fingers motioning with her sandwich, "3 years ago. And that was Tommy's brother so, it was different," she confesses, "Joel kinda gets away with his aloof-ness and well, Ellie, you've met her" she shrugs.

A seed of insecurity began to sprout. The feeling was like an old friend, a bitter one.

Cassidy spoke up again, "listen, give yourself a break. Adjusting just takes time, you were alone, right? When you came in?" She looked over to you.

You nodded in response.

"And when you're alone like that, you can't just snap out of it. And I'm lucky to be your friend. And let me tell you, it's more to do with the people here than anything you've done."

You nodded slowly to her, giving a weak smile. "How do I make friends."

"Well for one, you can stop ducking your head and running from everyone." She said pointing at you with her sandwich. "And don't pretend like you don't. The stable boys have started to call you skitter."

You gaped at her, "skitter? I feel like I'm too old to be called names?"

"Evidently not." She shrugs finishing off the last of her sandwich.

You hadn't ever really thought about how you must look to others. There was the occasional insecurity about what you were wearing, but nothing about your general behavior.  The initial shock of assimilating into Jackson had worn off, you were now just going through the motions of your routines. You thought you were playing it off cool.

"I don't know," you shrug, pausing for a second, "I feel just out of place."

"That fades, like most things it just takes time. Old habits die hard you know."

"That they do."

"Maybe Aiden and I can host a game night. She's been hoarding full decks of cards. Nows our chance to break one out you can come and that would be a better way to meet someone other than the big parties."

—

The walk to Cassidy's house is long, she lives in the outskirts of town. Training horses must have its perks, the house was secluded. Someone had recently walked the trail to her house, leaving behind large footprints in the snow. You follow carefully in the footprints.

Cassidy's house slowly comes into view, it's an older house. With a front porch stretching the length of it. This house seems out of place from the rest of Jackson, the homes surrounding Jackson were newer. Part of the fancy ski-town aesthetic. But this seemed to be an old farmhouse. The windows glowed warmly against the snow. You trek up the front steps taking a deep breath as you knock on the door.

A tall muscular woman opens the door, this must be Cas's wife. Her features are sharp, and she has her hair in a loose braid, hanging long on her shoulder. She's beautiful, you can see freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. A red tattoo swirls near her left cheek and disappears into her hairline. She smiles down to you towering probably a foot taller.

"Aye, you must be our newbie!" She has an accent you can't quite place.

You nod motioning to her. "Aidan?" You ask politely, giving her a small smile.

"Aye, Cas has told me all about you, it's nice to finally meet you." She reaches out her hand.

You meet the handshake, her hand engulfing your own completely. Her shake is quick and firm. She opens the door wider, stepping to the side to let you in.

You take the lead, stepping into the entryway. You smell cinnamon, there are a few pairs of shoes already gathered near the door. You pull your own boots off leaving them neatly by the door.

"Almost everyone's here, c'mon I'll show you in." Aidan turns around and disappears through the entry way.

The night slowly ticks by— you find yourself glued to Cassidy. This was an old habit, the need to cling to someone familiar in an unfamiliar situation. Following your friends and family around like a lost puppy at gatherings. You make the occasional small talk, but you keep hitting that wall. The silent, not wanting to talk wall. The games are fun, and a few teenagers lead them up. Bringing a light tone to it all, Ellie you notice is among them, she sneaks you glances. Snickering when she has a winning hand or when she's trying to help you out during a game.

After an hour or so you need a break, the room is starting to get hot. And you need to just get up. You excuse yourself to get some air, you can feel Cassidy's eyes on you.

The winter night hits your cheeks first, nipping at your exposed skin. You take a deep breath letting the air fill your lungs. You have half a mind to light the cigarette, feeling the lighter against your ankle tucked into your sock. It had been a minute since you last had one. Though you quietly tuck the thought away for a later date. Then swallowing the guilt, you had felt trading your rations for it. It was hand rolled, bought when you were working in the greenhouses— from someone you couldn't remember the name of.

The house is on a hill, the back porch overlooking the woods, you can see Jackson's wall in the distance. You wonder how they've managed to keep this all so safe for so long. Someone clears their throat next to you.

You jump and turn on your heel to face the danger. It's Joel. "Jesus, scared the shit outta me." He's about 10 feet from you, leaning on the balcony.

"I was waiting for you to notice; it was taking a while."

You nod, looking out to the Forrest below. "I don't mean to intrude." You look back to him and head around back to the door.

"I don't mind, I know it's crowded in there," he says not turning to look at you.

You nod and join him leaning against the railing, keeping your distance. He has his jacket on, something you neglected to grab. His breath shows lightly coming out of his nose. You think about your cigarette again, wondering what he'd think of it. Would he ask for a hit, or would you even offer? You dismissed the thought, just save it for something else. Maybe you should talk to him, then tonight wouldn't be a total bust.

You look over to him. "I didn't know you were even here. Have you been out here the whole time?"

He doesn't respond right away; the silence begins to get uncomfortable. "No, I've been in and out."

"Ah, I see."

After his prolonged silence you figure he's not in a chatty mood. The quiet night engulfs you; the wind picks up and you can't help but shiver at it. But you stay put, needing the space from inside. And Joel's company, though stoic is nice. He seems to have that effect, a strange comfort in just his presence. Again, the simple knowledge that you're not alone.

His voice cuts through the quiet, and he mumbles, "you're gonna catch somethin without a coat on." There's a softness to his demeanor, you can see his mask slip, if only for a second.

You look to him; he's still staring off into the distance. He's probably right, it's February and close to 10 degrees out. But at this moment you don't mind. The cold is a breath of fresh air, helps you clear your head. "I'll go back in eventually; I don't make habits of lurking on back porches" You confess still looking at him.

A ghost of a smile appears on his lips, he doesn't turn.

"Ellie is quite the card player." You say remembering the 5-game winning streak she had in the game of spoons the group had played.

"Oh, I'm aware." He says with a hint of humor in his tone, chuckling.

"She's won most of the games tonight, I thought she was cheating for a second." You pause and look at him, he still doesn't turn. "But she is just too fast, good trait for winning."

"She's a ruthless blackjack player." He replies. His arms are hanging off the bannister, he clasps them together. You can see a watch peek from his jacket, it was shattered. You file this away for a later date.

"I would've never guessed," you replied letting a light laugh bubble up. "Are you any good?"

He laughs at this, "I'd like to think so, was never much for cards though, Tommy always had me beat."

So did your own brother you thought, grimacing. You kept the thought to yourself thinking of how you had made Joel look at all of those pictures of yours. Crossing your arms for warmth, cold started to leech through your skin. "Well, I'm cold and I don't want to catch anything so I'm going in." You pause. "Are you gonna come join us? "

He looked to you, it felt like he was reading your thoughts. The tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks were red. His features were soft yet unforgiving. You allowed yourself a moment to linger on his face. He was very attractive you thought, you hoped he couldn't hear that. "I'll follow behind ya in a second." He gives a long pause. "Wanted to give Ellie time with her friends."

You nod to him, "it was nice chatting, see you inside." You turn and enter back through the door.

The rest of the night you could feel Joel's eyes on you, however every time you tried to catch him, his gaze was elsewhere. When everyone was leaving, you let your eyes trail him to the door, to which he turned finally giving you eye contact and you gave a small wave. He returned it.

—

"Hey, wait up," your pace quickens as you try to catch up with the older man. He's a few feet ahead, you're unable to tell if he heard you. "Joel!"

He stops not turning, standing to wait for you to catch up.

"You going to lunch?" You were taking a chance. You'd hadn't spoken to him since the card night and a few weeks had passed. You would catch the occasional glance or gruff good morning. Cas had been working with an onslaught of new horses that had come in— leaving you to your own devices for lunch. You were getting tired of sitting with the other stable hands, they were poor conversationalists and kind of cliquey. Maybe just maybe you could have lunch with Joel. Then you could become best friends.

"I am." He replied.

"Mind if I join you?" You replied falling into step with him.

"I don't mind but I was going to go home."

"Oh." Was all you said, you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. He was probably just being nice and had to find a polite way to say no.

"Yup."

"Well, another time then?" You asked, needing to evade this awkwardness. Your pace slowed to break off from him.

"You're welcome to come, I don't mind." There was no inflection in his voice. You could not tell from his tone either.

You were taken a bit off guard; you quickened your pace to match him again. "Oh, I- uh, sure."

He nodded, and pressed on. You walked in silence to his house, quietly hoping he'd be the one to strike up a conversation. No such luck.

Joel's house was situated at the end of Rancher Street, one of the cut away streets from town. A small cement staircase leads up to the porch of the house, white picket-fencing follow either side of the front yard. It's a relatively large house, at least for only two people. It sits at two stories with a large front porch stretching the entire front side of the house. A dying wreath adorns the red door, reminding you that it's March. Joel struggles for a second on the door, pulling a single key out of his Jean pockets to unlock it.

You almost laugh out loud at the single key. "Woah there, I can't believe you don't have a keychain for all of the keys you keep in your pocket." You have to stifle a laugh.

"Huh." He turns the doorknob, pushing the door in. He's not looking at you.

You feel the warmth climb to your cheeks, the awkwardness your body is exuding is palatable. "Oh, uh it's nothing. I just thought your one key was funny."

He stops before fully pushing the door in. "What's wrong with my key?" He sounds exceptionally southern.

You try to back track, "nothing, nothing, it's honestly not that funny."

He pushes fully into the house, turning his back to you "mhm"

You follow behind him, shutting the door behind you. He pulls off his boots and leaves them neatly by the door, you mimic. His house is astonishingly clean, and tidy— not really knowing what you expected. You watch him as he sets down his key on the entryway desk and heads down the hallway. You trail him taking in the house as you go, the living room is spotless and rustic, with horse themed paintings about. You take note of the large built-in bookshelves, only about half full, but you can see there is an effort to fill them. More horse paintings line the staircase leading up. He cuts into the dining room, which has a comically small table compared to the room size. You enter into the kitchen, lit by the soft light of the midday sun. It's a stark white kitchen and it is pristine, what you wouldn't give to have a kitchen like this.

It feels a bit off that he would just let you come over like this. He continually seems like an incredibly guarded person, most of the communication you had with him was through you saying hello and him grunting in response. It feels like you're intruding, like you don't belong.

"Got some left-over soup, just started using my fridge." He says opening the fridge bending over to look in it.

"That sounds delicious."

He grunts in response.

"Thank you for this, I do not ever want to intrude."

"The company is nice, don't mention it." He replies gruffly pulling out glass Tupperware from the fridge and lighting up the stove.

"You have a very nice home," you hesitate, and he looks over to you from across the island. "It's uh- very homey."

He briefly knits his eyebrows together, "thanks?"

You can feel your face heat up.

You both settle into a silence, it's once again that comfortable silence. Even despite your awkwardness, you've never had this with someone else. You appreciate him for this, wether he's aware of it or not. Or even if he's just like this with everyone.

You two sit at the small dining room table, he's at the head of the table and you're in the next seat closest to him. The dining room is broad and open, there's a small bar in the corner and a second fireplace in the middle of the back wall. Sitting in the mantle is a carving of a steer, large horns coming from the head.

"You wood carve right?" You look up from your soup to him. You took a chance with this question. Though there was a comfort in the silence, talking meant a higher chance of something going wrong. From your conversations with Ellie, he seemed to keep this hobby close to himself.

"I do," he says simply, not looking up from his bowl.

"You're very talented, I really like the horse you gave me, I don't think I thanked you for it. So, thank you." You say remembering it from one of the first days. You kept it on your side table.

He looks up, you can see the smallest tint of red on the apples of his cheeks. "You're very welcome." This is said with a bit more warmth.

"Was woodworking something you did before?"

He takes a second to reply, letting the pause linger. He shrugs a bit "a lot actually, though it never was as fun. I do sculptures and guitars now." His voice is the softest you've ever heard it. This is the tiniest little glimpse of him, you feel a bit honored to see it.

"Do you play?"

He laughs "I do."

"Don't laugh" you say laughing. "Maybe you just have an affinity for making guitars. I played flute in high school— though truth be told I pretended to play most of the time."

A small chuckle rises out of him. "No, I- I play for real."

"Well, I'd love to hear you play for real sometime, it's been a while since I've heard an instrument." You smile earnestly at him.

He makes a brief eye contact, then focuses back on his soup, "I'll play for you when you play the flute for me."

You laugh at this; it comes out louder than intended. But it feels good, you can feel it fill your lungs. "Okay hotshot, you get me a flute and I will play for you, no problem."

He chuckles "deal."

"Maybe we can start a band, tour and stuff."

He looks up to you, cocking an eyebrow, "where in the world would we be touring?"

"House to house like carolers, I think people would like it."

"Just what the people need, us two showing up at their door." He has a coy smile on his lips.

"See you get it." You smile to him.

Silence settles over the room as you continue to eat. It's a hearty potato soup, with cheese sprinkled on top. Something that you are still reeling from. And it is delicious, though before handing you your bowl he apologizes for the lack of roux to the soup. To which you tell him it's really no big deal, not mentioning that you have no idea what roux means.

"Have you found any hobbies here yet? Or uh- started any back up?"

The suddenness of his voice startles you, you shoot your head up to look at him. He's not looking at you.

"Oh um, I haven't really had the time. I used to crochet; I liked old women's hobbies. Never learned how to knit properly though." You look over to him and he's looking up now— his eyes are trained on you. You clear your throat and continue, your brain fogs a bit, "I really like that yarn lady's shop."

"Hilde?"

"Oh, wow yeah that name definitely fits."

There was a woman in town who had a knitting shop. It was quite extravagant; she would spin the wool from the sheep and dye it herself. Her shop was probably your favorite, it had a fireplace and a quaint sitting area near the front. The decor reminded you of your grandparents' house. And the handmade knitted items were strung about, filling the rest of the shop to the brim. The woman herself- was sight to behold. She was always draped in several knitted shawls, her purple reading glasses on the tip of her nose, adorned with a knitted glasses necklace and her nails painted red. She looked like she was about to read your fortune from a crystal ball. You had saved up a few rations to get your mittens there, having eyed them for a few weeks.

"I hear she has a vice for tea."

Your face softens into a small smile, "thank you, noted." You nod your head, now searching your mind on how to get ahold of some tea. Your mittens had been expensive.

"Don't mention it, I know a few tricks of the trade." He replies returning the smile.

Your lunch hour wanes as you help Joel clean up, moving silently around the kitchen as he points directions. Soon everything is back in their rightful place, and it looks as though no one had ever been here.

"Thank you for lunch again, honestly this was great— my compliments to the chef." You pause. "And if there's anything i can do to repay you— "

He grunts, cutting you off and waving from across the kitchen island. "you're welcome anytime."

You point at him narrowing your eyes at him, "mark my words Joel, I will repay you— that is a threat."

He puts his hands up in surrender.