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Natalie watched Dylan's strong sure movements. He'd be the death of those weeds, yet. An hour ago he'd taken off his sweatshirt which only drew more attention to his strong shoulders each time he swung the pickax. Tension radiated off of him like a fine mist. She wasn't sure what to say, but thought a long day of manual labor would help. Working side by side, maybe they'd find their friendship again. She put her empty mug down and started down the steps. “I've got something that will help with that,” she told him as she strode down the path to her truck. She lowered the tailgate and lifted the small tiller. “Wait, I'll--” His words stopped as she sat it effortlessly on the ground. “Thanks. I do this every day, remember?” She flexed her bicep and grinned. He didn't return her smile, just picked up the tiller and carried it up the stairs to the pathway. Nat felt the oddest emotion, but she wasn't sure what it was. Disappointment maybe. He'd never not returned her smiled. In fact, he was always quick to smile and laugh. He couldn't really be that irritated about her string of dates, could he? With a frown she unloaded the flats of pansies and bags of bulbs. Mrs. O came down her front steps, a trowel in hand. “We've got it, Mrs. O. Remember, this is your present,” Nat reminded her. “I've gotta help a little.” The older woman smiled and her face lit up when she saw all the yellow and purple pansies. She looked years younger. She'd had Dylan later in life but that hadn't kept her from loving him to pieces. But since her husband had become ill and later died, Mrs. O had aged over night. It was good to see her smile again. “Ok, how about you set out the bulbs and I'll come behind you and plant them and the pansies? We'll follow Dylan.” Mrs. O nodded enthusiastically and Natalie realized this was probably the first fun thing that the older woman had done for herself since her husband had died. It seemed like she'd been in mourning forever. Nat couldn't imagine loving someone so much that it would take her three years just to get back out in her garden or move on with life. But then, the O'Reilly's had had a very special relationship. Nat handed Mrs. O a bag of bulbs and then grabbed her own tools. Within a few minutes they were trailing behind Dylan who was slicing through the earth at a breakneck speed. He'd finished one side of the walk and was starting on the other. Nat was glad that Mrs. O wasn't asking questions today. Normally the older woman was just full of questions about life and work and the men Natalie was seeing. Today was a well timed reprieve. She wondered if the other woman could feel the tension. Or had Dylan told her about their fight. That thought caused the cider in her stomach to sour. Before long Mrs. O had caught up with Dylan so she sat the bag of bulbs on the walk and turned to Nat. “Care for some cookies?” “Sounds great, Mrs. O.” Nat dug into the soil with a vengeance. She'd already planted two flats of pansies. The third would probably finish out this bed. It felt great to be digging through the dirt and getting her hands dirty. Or in this case, her gloves. She'd always felt that gardening soothed the soul. It was a lot cheaper than therapy, that's for sure. If only she could figure out this latest turn of events with Dylan. His handled the tiller like a pro. The earth gave way to the rotating blades and crumbled beneath his feet. He was inches from the end of the bed. Still, she could tell by the stiff set of his shoulders that he didn't find anything therapeutic about this gardening session. When had he become the injured party? How had he become the injured party? “Are you jealous,” she shouted over the noise of the tiller. The blades stopped turning but he didn't turn around to face. He took a deep breath and she waited, ready for yet another fight. He killed the motor and half turned. “I suppose I am.” “Why?” “Why are most people jealous, Nat?” “I have no idea. Why now? Why is this suddenly an issue for you? It's not like I just suddenly started dating.” “I know that.” He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. She was so confused. This wasn't like him at all. Her warm and caring friend who'd always been there. And now he was suddenly deserting her. Because she dated too much. “If I was a guy you wouldn't care how much I dated.” He laughed. It was harsh and rueful. She couldn't believe the sound had come from him. The man who'd watched comedy after comedy with her, laughing with her until their sides ached. “No, I wouldn't.” “Isn't that a little sexist?” She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest, dirty gloves and all. “Maybe.” “What the heck is wrong with you Dylan? Why are you acting like this? I thought you'd be happy for me.” “I want you to be happy Nat. Always. I'm just tired of waiting on the sidelines while you go chasing happiness.” “Chasing--” She frowned. “Is that what I've been doing?” “Isn't it?” He raked his hand through his hair. “Having a good time. Passing the time. I was happy with Ryan. I was committed.” “And that turned out poorly. I know.” “Poorly? What a nice way of putting it. I was devastated. You know that.” “I do. Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself.” “I don't know what to tell you. I didn't realize I was putting our friendship on the back burner. I didn't mean to.” She wanted to hug him and tell him that everything would be fine. She'd see him Friday night for popcorn and a movie. But the look in his eyes stopped her. “Cookies are ready,” Mrs. O called from the porch. Neither one of them moved. “Is this really how it's going to end, Dylan? Years of friendship? All because I won't go steady with a guy?” “I don't want you to go steady with some guy.” “Why not? Isn't that what all this is about? You said I had commitment issues!” Her voice was raised high enough for the neighbors to hear but she didn't notice. She stared at him and felt something inside break. Odd... it felt like it had when Ryan had dumped her a year ago... only worse. “Dammit Nat, you just don't get it, do you?” He turned and picked up the tiller and then carried it down the steps. Fallen leaves swirled by, caught by a chilly autumn breeze. His angry words fueled her temper. “Obviously not! My best friend has suddenly turned into a jealous jerk and accuses me of having commitment issues. What am I missing here?” she shouted across the yard. “I'm in love with you, you little fool!” He glared up at her and her heart started pounding like a bongo drum. “Finally!” Mrs. O cried. “What?” Nat croaked. Had she really heard him correctly? He was in love with her? He just have her a hard look and hoisted the tiller into the back of her truck. “Since when?” she demanded, starting across the yard. Before she could blink she was falling forward. A startled cry on her lips, she managed a glimpse of her foot and the hole it was stuck in. And like she was in a bad B movie with too much slow motion, her momentum pushed her forward and she rolled down the bank. She heard Mrs. O cry out as she tumbled forward. A sharp pain stabbed through her leg and then her hands as she hit sidewalk. Everything seemed to be happening at a snails pace, even her heartbeat. But Dylan was at her side in an instant. “Natalie!” Mrs. O's voice barely entered her daze. “Where does it hurt?” Dylan asked. All over, she wanted to tell him. Her head, her heart. Most especially her ankle. “My leg,” she said, her voice little more than a gasp. “Is it broken?” he asked helping her sit up. Suddenly her warm, kind hearted friend was back. “I don't know.” “Should I call an ambulance?” Mrs. O asked. Nat was vaguely aware of the older woman coming down the steps towards them. Dylan raised a questioning eyebrow. An ambulance? God, it hurt to think. He loved her. Was in love with her. But he couldn't be. He was her best friend. He was going to ruin everything. Love ruined everything! “Let's go get you checked out.” Before she could utter a word her wrapped his arms around her and gently lifted her into his arms.
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