#Woodshed in the middle of the woods? Sure! Just take me here!

[thelostgirl21]

Jaskier knows, in that second one, that if he does make eye contact, he'll go "Forget about money! Just come with me now - we'll find a way to send a message to your brother to explain the situation and let him know you won't be coming back to court for a while... And I'll just... explain to Geralt I needed my emotional support prince by my side! It'll be fine! Last time we got separated, he showed up announcing he'd finally adopted his Elder Blood Princess. So, I feel perfectly entitled showing up announcing I've somehow managed to get myself deeply attached to the Crown Prince of Redania, and have thus decided to keep him! "

[softboywriting]

Heart Strings

Summary: Moving back to your hometown of DeLuca Falls is the best choice you’ve ever made. You promised your Grandma you would come back if she needed you someday, but it turns out you need DeLuca Falls. Going home brings inspiration, love and unexpected surprises when you meet Shawn, an unlikely friend of your Grandma’s. Shawn seems like the perfect guy but he holds a secret that may just ruin everything. [werewolf au] [light angst] [fluff] 

Word Count: 12k

|Masterlist in Bio|

Welcome to DeLuca Falls,  reads the big red sign with hand painted white letters and apples as it sticks out from the forested landscape along the side of the highway. You turn off at a gravel road and head onto the trees that pass the sign and leads into town. You've got your windows down, favorite album playing on the radio and the wind in your hair. The sense of nostalgia hangs heavy as you make your way home. 

DeLuca Falls is as beautiful as it always has been. It's the beginning of fall, the trees are just starting to turn. The air is crisp, the skies are clear and the world is full of magic here. Your hometown has always been like a little slice of heaven on Earth. It's small, cozy, just a speck on the map where everyone knows each other and everyone is like family. 

As soon as you get into town, the trees opening up to reveal Main Street, you turn onto a dirt road on your left with an old sign the says Birchwood Drive. Its the road that winds around up through the woods to various private residences. When you get to the top of the hill you turn on an unmarked drive that will take you to your grandparents cabin. 

Your grandpa died a long time ago, when you were just a teen. Grandma is still here and she's getting old, and you promised you would move back to town one day for her. It's time you made good on that promise, but it's not the only reason you're moving back. There are rumors that werewolves were making themselves comfortable around DeLuca Falls. Your whole life you've been warned about werewolves, growing up in the woods in the middle of no man's land lead to people telling horror stories of the creatures of the night. Your grandpa in particular always made a point to tell you to be careful.

Your grandma is a pretty spry old woman, but age is age. You can't stop the body from wearing out and she is definitely doing just that. There is no way she could fight off a werewolf and you worry about her living in the woods all alone. 

As you wind through the trees that you've driven countless times and come out in the front of the cabin, you see someone standing by the wood pile stacking logs. It's a young guy, dark hair, tall, dressed in jeans and a green flannel. From his profile you can guess he is probably your age. You have no idea who he is and your grandma definitely has not mentioned him. 

"Hello?" You ask, getting out of your car with your keys in your hand and the man turns around to face you. He's gorgeous, all sharp jawline, soft brown eyes and pearly white teeth as he smiles at you warmly.

He waves, friendly as can be. "Hi! Are you Bibi's granddaughter?" 

"I am? And you are?" 

"Shawn." He sticks his hand out and you take it. Despite the cold air and lack of gloves, his hand is extremely warm. 

"Oh." You introduce yourself just as Grandma steps out onto the porch. "Grandma!"

"Pumpkin!" She hurries down the steps and gives you a big hug. She's so much shorter than you as she rocks you back and forth. "Oh, it's been too long."

"I know Gram." You run your hand over her wooly sweater covered back. "But I'm back home like I promised."

"Yes you are." Grandma steps back and beams at you. "You've grown up so much. You're beautiful. Isn't she beautiful Shawn?" 

Shawn flushes, and clears his throat in a sort of agreeing way. 

"Grandma, please. You always say that."

"Because it's always true." She reaches up and pinches your cheek. 

"So...you didn't mention Shawn before?" You look to the man beside her and he raises his eyebrows, looking between you and Grandma. 

Grandma smiles innocently. "I didn't? Oh, well, this is Shawn." She grabs Shawn's arm and pats him on the shoulder. "He helps me with the firewood and groceries and things. He's a wonderful assistant. Aren't you, Shawn?" 

"I try my best ma'am." He chuckles.

"Oh." You shake your head and repress your initial response to ask why you needed you to move back if she had help. It's not fair to her to say that though, and it sounds selfish. You made her the promise to move back and besides, with Shawn around maybe you would have help in the event of werewolf troubles. 

"Shawn, will you go get some of the dry logs from out back and bring them in? I'm going to put on some coffee."

"Yes ma'am." He nods and heads around the back of the house to the woodshed. 

You take grandma's arm and walk with her into the house. It's just as you remember. Nothing has changed since you were a small child. She has the same furniture grandpa made. The same rugs, the same ancient black wood stove, the same blankets hung over the couch. Time is frozen here, and you can't help but smile as you sink into the worn out wooden bench seat against the window at the back of the kitchen. 

"So, have you found a place to work in town?" Grandma asks as she gets her coffee pot plugged in. 

You look out the fogged glass window and see Shawn loading up the canvas sling to carry the wood inside. "No Grandma. I work from home remember?"

"You don't have to go to the library?" 

"No." You chuckle. "I have a computer I can use anywhere." 

"Oh yes. You did tell me that." 

You look over and she's filling a measuring cup with coffee grounds. She was always so precise when she made things. "I'm working on my second book by the way."

"That's great! What's this one about?" 

"A single mother moving to a small town and falling in love with the local doctor."

Shawn walks in and places the wood in Grandma's holder beside the stove. He looks over at you and quickly looks away when he finds you watching him. You can't help but smile. 

"I can't wait to read it." Grandma opens a few cupboards and sighs, looking around the small kitchen for something. "I can't find the filters."

"The spice cupboard, Bibi." Shawn says and walks over. He opens the door over the sink and hands her down an unopened package of brown paper coffee filters. "Here you go."

"Ah, of course. Thank you." Grandma says softly and Shawn leans against the counter. 

"Of course. I'm going to head out, if you need anything just call?" 

Grandma nods. "You know I will."

Shawn looks over at you with a soft smile and you wave. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." 

_____________________

A few days later you get a call from Grandma and she wants you to stop by and take her to the bakery in the afternoon. Of course you have no problem taking her out, so around noon you grab your keys and a jacket and head to her house. 

When you arrive she's sitting on the porch in her chair and Shawn is leaning on the railing chatting with her. You park near the house so she won't have to walk across the uneven gravel driveway to get to the car. 

"Are you ready, Grandma?" You ask as you step over a little pile of leaves that Shawn must have been raking. 

"Oh Pumpkin, I meant to call you back. I've decided I'm just too tired for a trip today. I didn't sleep well last night, there was a terrible ruckus in the woods." 

"Oh. Is everything alright?" You lean on the post that holds up the porch awning.

"I'm sure it is. It quieted down in the early morning." 

Shawn frowns, looking as troubled by this news as you are. "I can look into it if you like?" 

Grandma waves him off. "No, no need to do that."

You sigh softly. "Well, I can still get you some stuff if you need something from the bakery."

"Would you? I can make a list...just a moment." Grandma pushes up out of her chair and before she can fully get up, Shawn stops her with a hand on her arm. 

"Bibi, I can go with her. I know what you usually buy. You don't have to go through the trouble of making a list." He says softly. 

You watch as Grandma sits back down and nods. "You and Shawn should go together," she says with a smile. 

"I don't mind." Shawn says, looking over at you. "Are you up for it?" 

"Sure." You give Grandma a look and she just smiles. You know she's doing this on purpose, setting you and Shawn up.

Shawn pushes off the porch railing and heads for the car. "Let's get going, the bakery sells out fast."

Grandma gives you a little wave and you head for the car. She's a mischievous little old woman. There is absolutely no way she didn't plan this.

The car ride with Shawn is short but quiet. Mostly he stares out the passenger window, watching the trees pass as if looking for something. You want to make small talk but you're not sure what to say. You don't want to sound like an idiot because Shawn is extremely attractive and he's really sweet. He is definitely someone you want to get to know better. If only you could sort out how to do that. Dating isn't your forte.

"Bibi planned this." Shawn chuckles as you pull up to the parking spaces outside of the bakery. "Don't you think?" 

"Yeah, most likely. She's definitely a matchmaker." You laugh, surprised he was thinking the same thing.

"Oh yeah? Has she done this before?" 

You take your keys out of the ignition and drop them in your purse. "She did once. There was a boy in town who worked at the orchard and I had the biggest crush on him in highschool. When Grandma found out, she would send me to get fresh apples all the time in hopes he would ask me out."

"Did it work out?" 

"No. He had a girlfriend and he was a year older than me."

Shawn smiles. "Too bad. He missed out."

You flush and Shawn gives you a cheeky look. "I-I are you..." You shake your head, trying to process the fact he may be flirting with you. "We should get in there before everything's gone."

He hums and opens his door. "Let's get going then."

Inside the bakery Shawn asks for a loaf of cinnamon bread and two banana walnut muffins. You browse the cases that are nearly empty already and it's just after noon. The place brings back memories of when you would stop by as a child with your grandma or mom. There are few things on the planet better than the smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls. 

"Ready?" Shawn asks and you look up from your reminiscing at the tray of danishes in the front windows. 

"You're done?" 

"Mmmhmm." 

"But I should have paid? Did Grandma give you money?" 

Shawn shakes his head and pushes open the door for you to walk out. The wind whips inside and it's definitely chillier than you realized, or maybe you had just gotten used to the warm bakery. "I paid for it, no worries."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's just a few loaves of bread. It's not much." Shawn sets the bag on the hood of the car. "I got us something too."

You lean up on your tiptoes to try and peek into the bag as he takes out a big cinnamon roll. "Those are my favorite. How'd you know?" 

"Good guess?" He tears it in half and passes part of it to you. 

"Grandma told you didn't she?" 

"Nope." He stuffs a chunk in his mouth. "Bibi didn't tell me a lot about you, but she did say you were beautiful and smart and she's very proud of you. I can confirm the first bit for sure."

"Shawn!" 

"What? I can't tell a girl she's pretty?" 

You look down and shake your head, eyes focused on your cinnamon roll. "I'm not used to it." 

"Well that's a shame." He dusts his hands off on his jeans and curls the top of the brown bakery bag down. "I'd ask you out in a heartbeat."

"So why don't you?" You look up with a smile as you put a piece of cinnamon roll in your mouth. "I'm not seeing anyone."

"Neither am I. What're you doing Sunday?"

"Probably nothing but writing."

"Will you go to the orchard with me? They're running the apple fest event this weekend."

You nod. "I'd love to go."

Shawn chuckles and picks up the bag off the car. "We should probably get this back to Bibi huh?" 

"A few more minutes couldn't hurt? We can stop by the market? I'm sure she could use some jam right?" 

"Of course." Shawn sets the bakery bag on the front seat, walks around to your side of the car and offers his hand as you step up onto the curb. "Lead the way," he says with a smile and you turn, walking quickly toward the big awning that says DeLuca Market. He gives you butterflies and you can't remember the last time you felt like this. 

_____________________

"Shawn! Come here!" You shout as you run towards a noise you've been hearing for about ten minutes. What you find isn't exactly something you'd expected.

The two of you are at the orchard for your date and Shawn had suggested apple picking after you did the tour and got hot cider. Things are going great, Shawn is funny, smart and soft. He even put his arm around you while you toured the building where they make the cider.

At the entrance to the orchard you both went out with a basket and whatever you pick you get to keep for the low fee of entry. You had been wandering around for a few minutes, showing each other huge apples and laughing at some of the funny shaped ones. Your basket was almost full when you heard a noise in the trees farther down the rows. It almost sounded like a whimpering dog. Shawn says he heard it before you but paid no mind, but since you heard it too he insisted that the two of you start searching. 

"Did you find something?" Shawn asks as he jogs up to you. 

"Yeah." You pull back a couple of trimmed branches in a pile at the end of the orchard to reveal a little puppy stuck in a shallow hole below. 

"Oh no." Shawn drops to his knees and reaches out. "Come on bud, I'm gonna help."

"It growled at me when I tried to reach into there, be careful."

"It's just scared." Shawn lays on his stomach and reaches in farther. "Hey little guy, come on, I promise you'll be okay." 

The puppy yelps as Shawn lifts it out and into his lap. The poor thing is muddy, covered in little sticks and leaves. It's shaking, pressed into Shawn's chest for dear life. From the looks of it, you'd guess it is a husky that's maybe two or three months old. 

"Do you think he ran off from someone's house?" You kneel down and pick some leaves out of his fur. "He isn't very big, I'm not sure anyone would have left him unattended in their yard."

Shawn peels off his flannel shirt and wraps the puppy up in it. "I'm not sure. He's been out here for a while. Maybe a day or two?" 

"How can you tell?" 

"I just can." He stands up, cradling the puppy like a baby. "He needs to be cleaned up and fed." 

You look around the back of the orchard and there isn't anyone around. Everyone else is up toward the front where the apple trees are full. "Should we take him to the people who own the property? Maybe it's one of their dog's puppies?" 

"I don't think we should." 

"Shawn, you can't just take it." 

He huffs in an almost annoyed way and you raise your eyebrows at him. "It's not someone's puppy." 

"You don't know that." 

"I do, just trust me."

You sigh and shake your head. "This isn't exactly how I pictured our first date wrapping up y'know. Why are you being so defensive about this? Why not just take it to the people who own the orchard?"

"We just can't."

"Shawn, I don't think we can just waltz out of the trees with a puppy in your shirt. Someone is going to ask questions." 

Shawn looks to the woods beyond the fence at the edge of the orchard. "I can go that way if you want to go out the front?" 

"Yeah, I guess that's an option. This just feels wrong though. We should tell someone." 

"No."

"Shawn! You're being irrational. I get it you like the puppy but he isn't y-"

"We can't take him to anyone because he's not a dog. It's a wolf pup okay?"

"No way." You pull back the flannel shirt and look at the puppy. You can't be sure because he's so muddy, he just looks like a puppy to you.

"He is. I promise you that this is a baby wolf. There are plenty of wolves in the valley beyond DeLuca Falls. He probably strayed from a pack somewhere and ended up here."

"What are we going to do then? We can't keep him. You can't just leave him in the woods."

"I'm not going to keep him." Shawn looks stressed. "I just...I don't know what to do with him." 

You wrap your arms around yourself and sigh. "Okay, okay, we'll figure this out. Maybe there is someone we can call to come get him?" 

"I don't know. I'm going to meet you at the car okay?" He turns and heads for the fence line. You watch as he crunches through leaves until he's almost out of sight. How did this date end up like this? Things were going so well. This is just your luck. 

____________________

Somehow you find yourself in Shawn's Jeep with a wolf pup in a box in his back seat driving to a wildlife sanctuary an hour away from DeLuca Falls. Shawn had met you at the Jeep outside the orchard where he parked and by the time he got there you had found the number for the sanctuary and called, letting them know what was going on. They said they would gladly help out.

"I'm sorry I ruined our date." Shawn says softly as he turns off the highway and onto the county road that leads to the sanctuary. 

"It's not ruined. It's definitely the most interesting first date I've ever been on though."

"I understand if you don't want to go out again."

You look over at him and he actually looks genuinely hurt at the thought of you rejecting him because of this. "You think I don't want a second date?" 

"I don't know. You seemed pretty upset at the orchard."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to handle the unusual situation. I really would like a second date."

Shawn glances over, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah," you chuckle and lean your head against the window. "Despite the end of the date, I really had a good time. I like talking to you. You're very sweet."

"You're sweet too, and I really, really appreciate a second chance. I'm sorry I couldn't just take the pup to the owners. I just couldn't." 

You lay your hand on his arm. "Its okay. I understand. You want to make sure this little puppy survives." 

"I know he's not my responsibility and everything but I just couldn't leave him."

"Shawn." 

"Yeah?" 

"I said it's okay. I promise I'm not mad at you for saving a puppy." 

He lets out a soft sigh. "Are you sure?" 

"One hundred percent sure." 

Shawn turns onto the drive that goes to the entrance of the wildlife sanctuary and follows the signs to the information office. The two of you gather up the puppy still wrapped in Shawn's shirt and carry him inside.

"Hi, I called earlier about finding a wolf pup." You say to the girl at the desk whos name tag says Mel.

"Yes! Let me go grab the vet and a crate to bring it back in." 

Shawn pulls back the fabric of his shirt and the puppy is sleeping. Mel returns and has a small carrier and an older woman with her. 

"Hello, I'm Dr. Tiva." The woman says, shaking your hand. "Where did you find this wolf?" 

"At the orchard in DeLuca Falls." Shawn says as he passes the puppy to Dr. Tiva. "It was stuck in a hole near some brush. I think it's been on its own for a few days." 

The puppy whines, waking up as the doctor places him in the carrier on the desk. Your heart breaks as it begins to cry, obviously upset. 

"That's incredible." Dr. Tiva says softly. "Wolves don't usually get too close to the DeLuca Falls area. It's too populated." 

Mel picks up the carrier and heads for the back area. The puppy whines loudly, clawing at the carrier desperately. 

"Is he going to be safe here?" Shawn asks shakily. "You'll take care of him right?" 

"Yes. We'll clean him up and make sure he's in good health before we introduce him to a surrogate mother." Dr. Tiva smiles. "You're welcome to come back and visit some time. The sanctuary runs hands on classes with most of our animals through the summer and fall months."

Shawn shakes his head. "Thank you, but I think we should probably just part ways." 

Dr. Tiva nods. "Thank you for bringing him in, and rescuing him." 

You thank her for taking him and she walks away to join Mel in the back. You look at Shawn and he's just staring blankly at the doors to the back where the pup was taken. "Shawn? You okay?" 

"Let's go," he sighs sadly, turning and heading out the entrance. 

The car ride back home is silent. An hour of silence is excruciatingly awkward but you have no choice but to endure. Shawn pulls up to your place and kills the engine. He just stares straight ahead down the street, hands wrapped around the steering wheel. 

"Shawn?" You say softly, laying your hand on his bicep. His skin is on fire, like he had just gotten out of a hot tub or something. You have no idea how he's so warm when it's chilly in the Jeep even for you with a jacket and a long sleeve shirt on. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah." 

"The pup will be safe there." You slide your hand up his arm and over his back. "They're going to take care of him, it's what they do."

"I know," he says roughly, voice caught in his throat. 

"Do you want to come in for a few minutes?" 

He shakes his head. "Thanks for going out with me." He looks over, finally tearing his eyes away from the nothingness. "Thanks for helping me with the pup."

"Are you crying?" You ask as his eyes water up and his face flushes. "Shawn, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Can we stop talking about it?" 

"Y-yeah." You lean over and kiss his cheek. "Thanks for the date. I'll call you?" 

"Mmmhmm." 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide out of the passenger seat. "I'll see you later?" 

Shawn nods. "Yeah I'll stop by Bibi's one day this week."

"Alright. Take care okay?" 

He smiles weakly and you close the door, waving as he turns around in the street to head to his place. You can't help but wonder why he was so choked up about the puppy. And how did he know it was a wolf pup? It's not until he out of sight completely that you realize he has the basket with all the apples in it. Oh well. He could bring them by later or something.

____________________

A storm is raging through DeLuca Falls as you head up the road to Grandma's house. The water rushes down the runoff ditches on the sides of the road. Even with the tree cover it's coming down heavy. When you reach the drive up to grandma's it's flooded over a few inches near the center. Your car is fine as you roll through it and park as close to the house as possible. 

You hurry inside, not totally soaked but wet enough by the time you get the door closed behind you. "Gram, I'm here."

"I'm in the kitchen dear, mind Shawn on the couch." 

You look over and sure enough the large man is curled up on his side hugging a pillow to his chest. His boots are on the floor by the end of the sofa, seemingly kicked off when he laid down. He's snoring, mouth open and everything. He's making a weird face, baring his teeth and his fangs look huge...almost terrifyingly not human.

"He stopped by to see if I needed firewood before the storm kicked up," Grandma says softly as she walks into the living area and you look away from Shawn. 

"I didn't see his Jeep?" 

"He walked most likely. I told him to stay until the weather eased up." She dusts her hands off and you can see flour remnants on her dark apron. 

"Are you baking?" 

"Oh yes, Shawn brought by some apples yesterday." 

You smile. Of course he brought the apples to her, it's exactly what you were going to do. "Has Shawn ever cried in front of you?" 

"No? I don't believe so. Why?" 

"No reason." You follow her into the kitchen and grab a spare apron off the hooks by the fridge. "Need help?" 

"Always." 

Half an hour passes and you and Grandma chit chat about your date while you peel apples and she makes crust. She admits that she hoped you and Shawn would hit off. You already knew that though, she isn't as sneaky as she thinks. 

Shawn appears in the doorway to the living room and you look up. He's a mess of disheveled clothes and bed head. What really gets you though is his when he yawns and his fangs look like they did earlier. You have to do a double take. Were they always like that? You didn't notice his teeth being weird before. 

"What're you staring at?" Shawn laughs as he sinks into a chair across from you. 

"I thought I saw...nothing nevermind." 

Shawn reaches over and grabs a peeled apple slice from the bowl you're working on filling. "When did you get here?" 

"A little while ago. You were snoozing while the storm raged on."

"I was tired."

You raise your eyebrows playfully. "What have you been doing to make you so tired?"

"Working, hiking, just the usual stuff."

"Uh huh."

"You should go hiking together," Grandma says as she walks over for a bowl of apples. "You used to love running around out there when you were young."

"I haven't been hiking in years. I don't even know if I have boots for that." 

Shawn smirks and leans close with his chin on his hand. "You can always buy a pair in town y'know? How bout it? Our second date could be a hike."

"You're serious?" 

"Mmhmm. I'll make us a lunch, we can hike the hills, it'll be a good time." He grins and his fangs still look oddly larger than you remember. It must just be the light or maybe you just weren't this close when he smiled before. 

"But what about... y'know... werewolves?"

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that." 

You furrow your brow. "Why not?" 

Shawn leans back and take another apple from your bowl. "There haven't been any sightings in a while. Besides, it'll be the middle of the day. We'll have fun."

You sigh. He's right, you haven't heard anything about werewolves since you got to town. "Okay, alright let's do it."

"I'll meet you here on Friday?" 

"It's a date."

_____________________

"You smell incredible." 

You turn around and see Shawn standing behind you with a backpack on. He's in his usual jeans, boots and flannel but he's got on an extra olive green jacket today. It might be the most you've seen him wear in the cool weather and you're surprised. 

"I smell incredible?" 

"Mmhmm. Can I?" He leans in as you nod and lean forward for him. "New shampoo?" 

"Yes?" You giggle and give him a look. "Is it that fragrant?"

He hums. "I like it."

"I've never had someone compliment my shampoo before, thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you ready to start hiking? I brought lunch." He pats the bag on his back. "Peanut butter and jelly, beef jerky, a few granola bars, a couple apples and some chocolate."

"That's a lot of food."

"I eat a lot." He chuckles and hoists the backpack up against his back. "I'll lead the way, I've got a trail that I think you'll like."

You adjust your fanny pack and make sure your water bottle is secure in its holder on the side. "Let's get going." 

An hour into the hike and you reach a ridge that overlooks the valley below. Its all trees, golden and red as far as the eyes can see. Shawn has taken you through some really pretty areas, over a creek and now the ridge. The view is just breathtaking. 

"I don't think I ever came this far out as a kid." You say as you take in the view. It has to be several hundred feet above the valley. Not a place you'd want to misstep. Its like the forests go on forever.

Shawn takes a seat and you walk back to where he is unpacking the backpack. "I thought you'd like it up here."

"I love it. You said you go hiking a lot right?" 

"Mmhmm."

"Have you ever been down in the valley?" 

Shawn looks up at you and then back to the backpack. "Yeah, a while back."

You sink down onto the rocks and take an apple he hands you. "What's it like?" 

"Wild." He passes you a sandwich and sits back against the rocks, legs stretched out in front of him. "That whole place is untouched by humans. It's probably where the wolf pup we found came from."

"Oh. How do you think it got all the way to the orchard?" 

"No idea. It probably walked a long way since it would have had to circle lower part of the valley to get out." He shakes his head. "No, maybe it came from somewhere else." 

You tear off a piece your sandwich and pop it in your mouth. "Speaking of coming from somewhere else, how long have you lived in DeLuca Falls?" 

"About three months now."

"Ah. What brought you here? We're not really a big deal."

Shawn chuckles. "I just sort of stumbled upon it and decided to stay when I met Bibi."

"Did you stumble upon her house on a hike?" 

"Yeah, something like that." 

You toss your apple core over the ridge and tuck your sandwich bag into your pocket. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Of course." He says around a mouth full of jerky. "Fire away."

You move over so you're closer as a breeze picks up and your jacket suddenly doesn't feel like enough protection. "The other day when Grandma said she heard noises that kept her awake all night, did you investigate that?" 

"I did. I know she said don't worry about it, but of course I was going to worry."

"Did you find anything?" 

Shawn puts his arm around you and you scoot into his side. "No. Whatever it was must have just been fighting or something. Probably foxes or raccoons." 

"Oh. Well that's good." 

"What'd you think it was?" 

You bite your lip and he rubs your arm encouragingly. "I just thought, maybe because it was a full moon that night maybe..."

"Werewolves?" 

"Yeah. I've heard people talking about them before I got to town. As a kid I was always warned about them but I don't think they ever actually bothered us."

Shawn's quiet. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, I was just thinking. I wouldn't worry about werewolves in DeLuca Falls. It's probably just rumors because people saw regular wolves or something. I mean, we can attest to that with the pup we found." 

"Right." You chuckle and lean your head back. "It's crazy. What would anyone want with our little town anyways."

Shawn sits up and peels off his jacket. "Here, put this on."

"Why?" 

"Because you're starting to shiver and we have the whole trek back to make still." He motions for you to sit up and he kneels in front of you, putting the jacket around your shoulders. 

"Won't you be cold now?" 

"Nah, I'm always hot anyway."

You wiggle your arms into the sleeves and Shawn gets the zipper lined up for you. "I noticed that."

"You noticed I'm hot?" He smirks playfully. 

"I meant your hands are always warm, like your body temperature, but yes, you're hot too." 

Shawn pulls the zipper up and the jacket closes around all the way up to your neck. He leans in, palm going to your jaw and cradling it. "You're pretty hot too, but not temperature wise."

You bite your lip and he raises his eyebrows, as if asking permission. You give a little nod and he kisses you gently. It's just a sweet peck on the lips but it's enough to send your heart soaring. 

"Do you wanna head back?" He asks softly, still knelt in front of you. 

"Can we enjoy the view a little longer?" 

"Of course." He pushes himself up and hauls you up against him. "We can stay as long as you like." 

You turn and look out over the valley and he puts his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. 

"Is this okay?" He asks, referring to his hold on you. 

"Mmhmm. Makes me feel safe on this steep ridge." 

"Good." He squeezes you gently. "I like it too."

You close your eyes, lean your head back against him, and take a deep breath of the crisp clean autumn air. You're happy. Completely, undeniably, happy in this moment. 

_____________________

Another storm blows through DeLuca Falls. It's the third one in less than ten days. The weather has been unusual for fall but there isn't much you can do about that. You sit at your computer in your living room, staring at a blank page that's meant to be the start of the next chapter of your book. It seems you can't focus on it, and you haven't been able to since your date with Shawn. There are so many things that don't add up, and you really like Shawn, you do, but things are just strange feeling.

In the late afternoon you go to visit Grandma to see how she is fairing in the storm. That's how you find yourself in her backyard, trapped between the woodshed and an angry badger. You saw the damn thing on the hill when you walked out into the pouring rain but you didn't think anything of it until you started loading up wood. Turns out that badger has babies in the shed and you were a threat for getting a few logs. 

You hold up a long log and ready yourself to throw it at the animal. If you miss, it'll attack you. If you hit it, you might scare it off, but it might not and just make it angrier. Worst case scenario, you get attacked and get rabies. Best case, it fucks off and you run for the house.  

The badger hisses and you back into the shed completely. You're really trapped now. There is nowhere to go. You hear growling, loud over the storm and you can't imagine dealing with something else right now. To your right you see a person appear and your first thought is Grandma.

"Grandma n-" your voice is drowned out by a clap of thunder. 

The growling gets louder and the badger backs away from you, turning its attention to the person approaching from the side of the yard. The moment a flash of lightning illuminates the sky you see the figure is Shawn. 

"Are you okay?" He yells over the rain, hurrying closer. He reaches for you, hands on your face. 

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." You look over and the badger has run off back up the hill behind the house. "I guess the badger got scared."

"Thunder must have upset it." Shawn gathers you into his arms and away from the woodshed as few of the shingles slide off the roof of it. "Careful now. What're you doing out here?" 

"Grandma needs wood."

"I told her I was coming over. Didn't she say something?" 

"Yeah, but it's just wood, I can get it."

Shawn sighs and shakes his head. "You came out here with no coat, no gloves, no rain boots and no tarp to wrap the wood in and take back. Sweetheart, you're a mess."

You laugh softly. "I am pretty soaked huh?"

"You're shaking." He slides his coat off and puts it around you. "Come on, let's get inside and I'll come back out for wood."

You walk along beside him and he keeps his arm around you. "I could have gotten it."

"You would have had wet wood, splinters and a chill. Now you're probably just going to have the chill."

As soon as Shawn has you settled down in the house he grabs a folded up tarp off the back porch and heads across the yard to the woodshed. 

"He was worried about you," Grandma says from her chair near the nearly extinguished wood stove. 

"I know."

"He's protective. It's in his nature."

You peel off your wet sweater and drop it by the stove to hang dry in a bit. "I'm glad he showed up when he did. There was a badger out there and something else growling, I think it was Shawn but that's weird right? Both went away when he came up."

Grandma chuckles. "Shawn's good at that."

"Scaring stuff away?" 

"Mmm. He's intimidating to...smaller creatures."

You chuckle and shake your head. "If only they knew what a softie he is. I'm going to go change, I'll be right back." You head down the hall past the kitchen to the bedrooms. There are two, grandma's and the guest room that she stores her crafts and other hobbies and interests in. You've got a few clothes in a dresser there that you brought by a week or two ago, just in case you ended up stuck overnight for some reason. 

You change out of your soaked clinging jeans and your undershirt. Both items you hang over the end of the little twin size bed frame. There is a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt in the top drawer of a small chest by the closet and you take them out, debating taking off your underwear since they're wet too. 

The door behind you creaks open and you jump, spinning around in your underwear to see who's walking in. 

"Shit, sorry." Shawn mutters, covering his eyes. He's shirtless, wearing just his jeans and socks. There are few times in your life when you've been completely blown away by something so unexpected you can't begin to comprehend. This is one of those times. Shawn is fit like a swimmer. Now you knew he was strong, he was lean, but you never would have guessed he had such a trained body hiding under those sweaters and flannels and good lord you have to turn away. 

"What're you doing?" You ask, now facing the window.

"Bibi said there might be some clothes in here I could put on but I think you found them first."

You laugh. "I think I have extra but you're much taller than me." 

"I don't think sitting around in my underwear is ideal, so I will have to take what you've got." 

"I wouldn't mind." You smile, tossing him your sweatpants before going to the dresser and taking out a pair of jeans for yourself. 

Shawn grins, and shakes his head. "Flirting with me while your grandma is in the other room, eh?" 

You turn away and pull on the jeans and sweatshirt. "Maybe I am." 

"Maybe I like it." 

You look back and he's got his jeans around his ankles. You flush at his silhouetted goods in his navy blue boxer briefs. Even his legs, especially his thighs are attractive. Damn. You've got it bad if you're interested in his legs.

"Like what you see?" 

"Wha-" Your eyes snap to his and he puts his hands on his hips. "I see what?" 

He chuckles and adjusts the drawstring of the pants. The legs are a bit short and sit above his ankles. "Nothing, wanna get back to Bibi? I'm sure she might get suspicious if we're gone too long."

"Yeah, you're right." You step past him and head for the living room. "Coming?"

Shawn follows after you in his ridiculously small pants, carrying his clothes in his arm to hang near the wood stove. He's so cute. No, sexy. No...endearing. He is everything.

_____________________

The storm passes in a few hours. Bibi says her goodbyes and you and Shawn head for your car only to find it's sunk into the shoulder of the road. The rains had been so bad they washed out a chunk of the road and there was no way you could push the car up and out without getting covered in mud. The two of you decide to just walk home and come back for the car tomorrow when the ground is a bit more solid. 

Shawn takes your hand as you walk down the hill towards town. He threads his fingers with yours and you smile. 

"What're you doing the rest of the night?" 

"Probably going home and watching TV."

You bite your lip and glance over at him. "Do you wanna watch TV at my house?" 

"I'd love to. I heard there's a scare fest playing on the Syfy channel." 

"You wanna cuddle me while I get scared out of my pants?" 

Shawn drops your hand and wraps his arm around you, leaning his head onto yours. "How did you know what my plan was?" 

"Just a hunch." You give him a playful smile and he quirks an eyebrow. "Plus I know you're protective. You'll probably be the best person to watch scary movies with."

"I can guarantee I am."

____________________

At the house you and Shawn get comfortable on the couch. You grab all of your extra blankets while Shawn makes a couple mugs of tea and even brings your little carafe over to the coffee table for refills while you set up the blankets. 

Shawn positions himself in the middle of the blankets, legs stretched out across the ottoman. You stare at him, wondering where exactly you were supposed to sit with him taking up the entire area. 

"What?" Shawn asks, positioning the blankets around himself. 

"Where am I supposed to sit?" 

"Right here." He pats the space between his legs. "You wanted to cuddle right?" 

You step forward and he pulls you down onto him. You move around awkwardly until you're settled between his legs. 

He wraps his arms around you and tugs you back against his chest. You take the blankets from either side and pull them around both of you, cocooning yourself in. 

"You're really warm." You press back against him and he kisses your head. "Why are you so warm?" 

"Guess I just run hot." He says matter of factly and turns the TV on. 

You close your eyes while he searches for the Syfy channel. You're so warm you're not sure how long you'll be able to stay awake. 

______________________

An hour into a movie you can't remember the name of and you're passing out. Your eyes are crossing, the movie has become ambient noise and Shawn's arms around you are all you can focus on. 

A loud jump scare in the movie startles you and Shawn holds you tight. "Easy, I got you," he says softly, nose in your hair.  

"I was almost asleep. "

"I know. If you want to go to bed I can head home."

"No, no I'll stay up."

"You're sure? I'm not so convinced."

You yawn and he flexes his fingers over your stomach.

He chuckles. "That's what I thought. Come on, I'll walk you to bed."

"Will you stay?" 

"You want me to stay?" 

You nod. "You're really warm. I'm not ready to give you up yet." 

Shawn shifts around and gets you up on your feet before grabbing your blankets to take to your bedroom. "I guess I'm staying then. Come on sweetheart, I'll make sure you're nice and cozy."

_____________________

The sun streams in your curtains and casts bright early morning light over your bed. You slept hard, barely remembering going to bed. You roll over and the bed is empty, you feel along the sheets and they're cold. Shawn had definitely gone to bed with you last night. Did he leave for work?  

You get up and pull on a sweatshirt before making your way to the living room. Sure enough that's where you find Shawn. He's curled up with something in his hands, his huge figure some how crammed into your arm chair. You rub the sleep from your eyes and yawn. 

"Whatcha doing?" 

Shawn looks up and smiles. "Good morning."

"Morning." You walk closer to him and realize what he's reading is the rough draft of your latest novel. The one you meant to take to Bibi yesterday but forgot on the kitchen counter.  "Oh no."

"What?" 

"Give me that." 

Shawn raises his eyebrows. "What?"

You reach for the ring bound draft of papers and he pulls them close to his chest.  "Shawn, stop it. Give me my book. That is for Grandma."

"You didn't tell me you were writing a book with me in it."

"I'm not." You hold your hand out stiffly. "Give me it."

"Oh you're not huh?" He looks down and flips back a few pages from where he left off. "He has dark chocolate curls and soft hazel eyes. He towers over Anya's petite frame, giving off an air of well controlled strength and softness." 

"Shawn!"

"Should I go on? Because the part where he rescues a puppy for her is awfully familiar."

You can feel the heat of embarrassment spreading up your neck and into your cheeks. This is precisely why you never wanted him to read your manuscript. He was definitely your inspiration for Kier, the leading male love interest of Anya, a single mother who moved into a small town and caught the attention of the local doctor. 

"Stop, fine. Maybe you inspired me a little."

Shawn hands you the draft and you tuck it under your arm. "I'm honored. And for what it's worth, I love the story. What I read anyways. It's definitely realistic and romantic in a way people wish they could have but very few truly get." 

"Th-thanks." 

"Do you want to grab coffee and take the draft to Bibi? We need to get your car out of the mud anyways."

You look down at your sleep pants and sweatshirt. "Let me go get changed and we can go. Don't get into any more trouble for ten minutes okay?" 

"I make no promises." Shawn smirks and you roll your eyes. 

_____________________ 

"So, you write books." Shawn says softly as a conversation opener.

"Yeah." You smile and he grabs his coffee, stepping aside for you to move forward for yours. "I've got one published so far and I'm working on this one," you gesture to the papers in your purse "But I've got a bunch of things that I haven't submitted for publishing. I always give Grandma a copy of everything I do."

"Ah," he chuckles. "I always wondered what those stacks of papers she was reading was." 

"You didn't ask?" 

"Nope. I figured she'd tell me if she wanted me to know."

You grab your coffee and walk toward the sidewalk with Shawn. "Speaking of Grandma, how did you meet again?" 

"I told you, I came upon her house on a hike."

"And that's it?"

"It's a long story."

"Is it? Because I've got time." 

Shawn rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "You're sure?"

"Yep." You sip your coffee and raise your eyebrows. "I'm all ears and free time, the walk to Grandma's will take a few minutes." 

The two of you head for Birchwood Drive, walking at first in silence as you wait for Shawn to start talking. You aren't sure why he seems hesitant to tell you how he met Grandma. What is the big deal? Why is it such a secret?

"So," he clears his throat. "Bibi and I met on a really stormy night about three months ago."

"Okay?" 

"I was...hiking in the woods...and I was pretty messed up." He sips his coffee. "Not like wasted or something. I had been in a fight."

"Whoa what?" You stop him with a hand on his chest. "You got into a fight in the woods?" 

"Well, not these woods. I was farther out on a run." 

"You were running? On a hike?"

"Uh-huh."

You look around, trying to sort out what he's telling you. This doesn't make sense. Obviously he's still telling the story but it's a hell of a story so far. You already have so many questions. "Okay...go on."

"Well I was exhausted, barely walking back when I saw the lights from your grandma's cabin. I knew someone must be there and I needed help as soon as possible. So I made my way there and collapsed on the porch."

"And Grandma just found you there?" 

"Yeah. I scratched at the door until she opened."

"W-what?"

Shawn frowns and you take a step to the side. "Please don't be angry with me."

"What are you playing at? Do you think this is funny?" 

"I'm not playing at anything." Shawn sips his coffee and stops a few feet ahead of you. "I've been scared to tell you the truth and I've been waiting for you to ask me all the things I know you want to ask. I know you think something is weird about me."

"You're fine. Everyone is a little weird, so what? What truth are you hiding? I'm confused about your story about meeting Grandma already. Are you insane or something?"

"No, ohmygod no."

"Okay then, so you were attacked on a hike and you ran from wherever until you ended up in the woods here during a storm?"

He nods. "That's right."

"And you find my grandma's cabin and scratch at her door? Who does that? Why not just knock?" 

"Because I couldn't knock."

"Well if you have hands to scratch you could knock."

Shawn sighs. "I didn't have hands."

You just about drop your coffee because that statement is like a freight train and it sidelines you like no one's business. "W-what the hell does that mean?" 

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" 

"I mean you're spelling out that you're mentally insane pretty clearly and frankly I'm not sure I want you being around my grandma if-"

"I'm a werewolf." He scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm the one making all the noise in the woods at night. I just think you should know before we get any closer." 

Your heart stops. He's a werewolf. Him. This handsome kind man who has been helping your grandma for three months, who you have serious feelings for, is a werewolf. No. No this is a joke. He can't be. 

"You're not funny." 

"I didn't tell a joke."

"Shawn, you're not a werewolf." You laugh and step up to him on the path. "You can't be."

"And why not?" 

"Because..." You drop your voice as if there were anyone else around on the gravel road in the woods. "Werewolves are monsters." 

He looks hurt. "I'm a monster?" 

"No? That's what I'm saying. I mean you have been nothing but sweet according to Grandma and you've been like a dream come true to me."

"But I'm still a werewolf." 

"You can't be!"

Shawn growls, his facial expression turning dark and your blood runs cold. It's the same noise you heard before the badger ran off. He looks dangerous, terrifying. He bares his teeth and you can see some very prominent fangs. The ones you wrote off as a trick of the light that day at grandma's cabin. They're no trick now.

You drop your nearly empty cup. Instead of turning and running away, you punch him in the chest to make him stop growling as he steps towards you. Unfortunately you've always reacted physically to fear and it's why you're not allowed in haunted houses anymore.  

"Ow! Shit!" Shawn steps back, groaning as he rubs his chest. "You socked me!" 

"Well you were freaking me out!" You say shakily.

"I was making a point!"

"I-I need to go." You walk past him and make a bee line up the road for Grandma's house. He says something about being sorry but you don't turn back. 

_____________________

You pass your car as you head up to the cabin, wiping your eyes before you get to the porch. Somewhere before the turn to Grandma's house you started crying. You're not sure why, maybe you were just overwhelmed with everything. 

"What's wrong dear?" Grandma asks as she sits you down at the kitchen table. "You look shaken up."

"It's nothing." You take a deep breath and sigh heavily. "I was just thinking about some things on my walk."

"Where's Shawn? Wasn't he going to come help you get your car out of the mud?" 

"I think he's busy."

Grandma frowns. "Oh, well I hope you can get it out."

"I'll call a tow truck if I have to." You reach into your bag. "Anyway I brought you my rough draft of the new book."

Grandma sits down and puts her little reading glasses on. "I can't wait. This is the one about the doctor?" 

"Yes."

She makes a little squeal of excitement that makes you smile just a bit. Her approval has always been a higher compliment than a review by anyone in the business. "I'll put on some coffee and get to it."

You push up from the table and grab your bag. "I'll leave you alone. I've got some stuff to sort out at home anyways. I just wanted to drop this off and grab my car."

Grandma pulls you in for a hug from her place at the table. "Take it easy alright? Don't stress yourself too much."

"I'll try not to." You kiss her head. "I'll be by later okay?" 

"Alright dear. Have a good day." 

_____________________

The tires of your car spin in the thick mud. You've been trying for ten minutes to get the thing out, using every trick you know. You tried rocking it by putting it in reverse and then back in to drive quickly. You tried pushing it, even putting sticks and brush under the wheels to gain some traction. Everything you know isn't working. 

You lean your head on the steering wheel and let out a soft cry of frustration. You're going to have to call for a tow truck, which means you'll have to walk back down the hill to get signal. 

A knock on your window jerks you out of your pit of self wallowing and sends your pulse skyrocketing. It's Shawn. 

"Can I help?" He asks as your window rolls down. "Please?" 

You stare up at him, his eyes don't seem as soft anymore. Nothing about him seems right now you know the truth. How did you let yourself open up to him? Why did you ignore all the signs? 

"Um...are you gonna say something?"

"Y-yeah."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah I need help." 

Shawn walks around to the front of the car and braces his arms against the front. "Put it in reverse and I'll push."

You follow Shawn's direction and after two pushes he gets your car back up onto the road. The front end is covered in mud and leaves but you can run it through the car wash sometime this week. Shawn walks up to the window and you put it down again. 

"So, earlier...I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"I don't...I don't really want to talk about it right now."

He nods and leans his head on the top of the doorframe. "I understand. For what it's worth, I'm still the same person. I still care for you a lot."

"Yeah." You grip the steering wheel. "I'm gonna go home now." 

"I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah, maybe." You start rolling up the window. "Bye Shawn."

_____________________

You make it a week without seeing Shawn. It's a week from hell if you're honest with yourself. You hadn't realized just how much you enjoyed Shawn's company until you didn't have it. The lack of it is your own doing though. You've created a distance while you sort out how you feel about him. His words play on repeat in your head. How he is still the same person. Is he though? 

Sunday morning you stop by the open air market set up on Main St. to get some fresh air and do a little shopping. You're not looking for anything in particular, it's just fun to walk through the different booths and see what people are selling. 

"Mums, get your mums here!" 

You smile as you step up to a booth littered with pots of autumnal flowers and foliage. "How much for- Shawn."

Shawn steps around the back of the van carrying an arm full of pots. "Hey." 

The woman before you looks back at Shawn and smiles fondly. "I don't think he's for sale, but I'm not sure."

Shawn places the pots on the open back end of the van and dusts his hands off on his jeans. "Roxanne, can I have a minute?" 

The woman nods and goes around to the front of the van out of sight. 

"You're selling flowers?" You chuckle, running your fingers over some purple mums. 

"Yeah, I help Roxanne set up and stuff on weekends. Sometimes I help Brenda over at the honey booth."

"Oh. But, I thought you worked at the lumber company outside of town?" 

"I do, a few days a week." Shawn arranges some of the pots on the table and adds more from the back of the van. "How are you doing?" 

You smile softly, feeling almost nervous. "Fine I guess. Just...doing my thing." 

"I'm sorry, again. I know it probably doesn't matter. I am sorry though." 

"Yeah." You wrap your arms around yourself and stare at the mums before you. "I'm just working through some stuff right now." 

"I understand." 

You feel fingertips brush your hair and you look up. There's a yellow flower in your peripheral vision that Shawn has tucked behind your ear. 

"I miss you."

"Shawn."

"I do." He runs a hand over his hair and scratches at his scalp. "I can...I promise to be a hundred percent honest with you about any questions you have."

"Later. Maybe." You grab a pot and hand Shawn a ten dollar bill from your pocket. 

"Can I call you?"

"I'll call you," you say softly and turn away. You won't.

_____________________

"So, how are things with Shawn?" Grandma asks one afternoon a few days after you saw Shawn at the market. She had invited you over for lunch and since you could use a break from attempting to continue to working on your book. It's been hard since the fallout with Shawn. 

"Fine."

"He is a sweet boy. Has he told you how we met?" 

You eye her suspiciously. You haven't talked to her about Shawn yet. Obviously she knows, and she seems to know that you know now too. No doubt Shawn has talked to her about the distance you've been keeping. 

"We chatted the other day."

Grandma sits down with two mugs on the table while the kettle comes up to temp on the wood stove. "Mmm, he said he told you. He was a mess when I found him on the porch. I knew he wasn't any ordinary wolf, his eyes were too kind and pleading. I'm glad he stuck around. He's been great company and a greater help. I think his presence has also run off the pesky raccoons and possums that like to tear up the garden and eat my flowers."

"You're not afraid of Shawn?" 

"What? No, never. He has never shown a hint of bad intentions towards me or anyone. Not all werewolves are bad eggs." 

You lean back in the old wooden rocking chair and fold your hands on your stomach. "I've been avoiding him."

"Why?" 

You're quiet. Why have you been avoiding him? Because you're afraid of him? He hasn't done anything to make you feel unsafe. He hasn't done anything but tell you the truth. 

"Honey, do you think Shawn is a bad person because of what he is?" 

"No."

"Are you afraid of him?"

"I guess?"

Grandma sighs softly. "I have a secret to share with you."

"What?" You sit up and Grandma stands to get the kettle as it begins to whistle. "What is it?" 

"Peter was a werewolf." Grandma pours her mug full of tea and then yours. "I found out just before I married him. Nothing about him was different when I found out, nothing changed. He was still my best friend and the love of my life. Peter kept that secret for five years because he was afraid I would leave him."

You shake your head. "Grandpa was a werewolf? Why...why did he always warn me about playing in the woods then? Why did he make them sound like monsters?" 

"Because he knew that not all werewolves were like him. Many stay in packs away from humans and they become feral. He didn't want you to get hurt." Grandma sits down and slides your mug to you. "Peter kept DeLuca Falls safe for us until he became too old to do so."

"If Grandpa was a werewolf then... Mom is a werewolf too? Am I? Ohmygod am I a werewolf?" 

Grandma chuckles. "No sweetheart. Your mother was not born a werewolf though technically you and her both have the blood in your veins, you'll never be anything but human." 

"But if the genes skipped Mom, I should have been if she wasn't?"

"Well yes but your dad was a human. " 

"Oh, right" You sigh and stir your tea with a spoon full of honey Grandma places in it. 

"Either way the chances of any children being a werewolf was very slim."

You feel bad. You judged Shawn for something he cannot control while your family also contains the same genetics. He must know, Grandma must have told him all this at some point. You've been such an ass. "I need to apologize to Shawn."

"I'm sure he'd like that. He seemed very out of sorts when he came to tell me about how you've cut him off." Grandma leans her chin on her hand. "It's was my mistake for not telling you the truth about Peter. Shawn knew and he thought you would take the news about him better. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay Grandma. I'm not innocent either. I immediately judged Shawn without so much as giving him a chance to explain or even defend himself. I just...I chose to live in fear of nothing."

"You should go and-" Grandma stops and looks to the front door as someone knocks. 

"I'll get it." You push up out of the rocking chair and go to the door, opening it to find Shawn with his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Hey."

"Hey. I didn't see your car...I don't mean to interrupt."

"I walked." You push open the screen and step out onto the porch, closing the heavy wood door behind you. "We were just talking about you."

"Yeah?" He looks nervous. "Did she tell you?" 

"Yes." You fidget with the tails of the front of your button down shirt. "I'm so sorry." 

Shawn's posture changes dramatically. His shoulders loosen up and he seems to just melt. "It's okay."

"It's not. I was such an ass to you because I didn't understand. I...I didn't know my own Grandpa was a werewolf. I judged you because I was afraid of an idea of what I thought werewolves were." You look up at him and he reaches for your hands. "I am so sorry that I cut you off because of my own ignorance."

Shawn curls his fingers around yours. "I forgive you." He brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles. "Can I ask you to do something for me?" 

Your eyes meet his and he looks soft again. Your perception changing back to how it should be. "What is it?" 

"Let me teach you about werewolves." 

____________________

Learning about Shawn opens your eyes to the world in a whole new way. The two of you spend nearly every day for the next two weeks at your place when he gets off work. Shawn shows you his wolf form, encouraging you to touch his fur and get comfortable with his alternate form. He's still very much himself as a wolf in a way you cannot explain and you find yourself getting used to him fairly easily. 

The two of you are curled up in bed, his arm around your waist. It's been a great day. You had gone out to dinner and stopped by the market where Shawn bought you some roses. After that you went home and got cozy on the couch, then cozy in bed. 

"Did you know I have werewolf blood in me?" 

"Mmm?" Shawn shifts and presses his nose into your neck. "Could I smell it?" 

"Yeah, like is my scent different than other humans?" 

He smiles and you can hear it in his voice. "All scents are different, but no, I couldn't tell from your scent alone."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

You shift against him and turn around to face him, fingers playing at the hair on his chest. "I'm not disappointed. I just wondered if that was something I should worry about, y'know, if other werewolves come to DeLuca Falls." 

"Oh, I see. You don't have to worry about that. I'll never let another wolf hurt you."

"Are there any other werewolves near here?" 

Shawn shakes his head. "No. There used to be some in the valley."

"Where it's wild?"

"Mmm." He reaches out and strokes his finger down your nose. "They made themselves scarce when I got here."

"They were scared of you?" 

"I made them scared of me. I didn't want them to come into the town and harass people, especially Bibi." Shawn looks down and you slide your hand over his cheek and run your thumb over his lower lip to see his teeth. "What're you doin'?"

"Looking at your fangs." 

"Yeah?" He curls his lip up for you.

You press your thumb into the tip of his fang and then lean in and kiss him gently. "I love them."

He smiles into the kiss. "Funny, just a few weeks ago you were punching me because of them."

"Mmm, I was wrong." 

Shawn rolls you under him and he kisses you slowly, licking your lower lip before taking it between his teeth. "You like when I bite you?" 

"Mmhmm." 

He kisses across your jaw and down your neck. He gives you a playful bite and you squeak, hand going to his hair. "What? Thought you liked this."

"I do, you just startled me."

Shawn rolls his hips down against you as he bites again. "I know you like it, I wonder if you'd like my bites elsewhere."

"Sh-shawn."

He chuckles into your flushed warm skin and begins kissing his way down your chest to show you just how many ways and places you like to be bitten. 

____________________

Six months later 

"Thank you for coming!" You wave as a fan steps away to go meet with her friends. Just a month ago you released your second book, Heartstrings, after undergoing a few changes to the story. You're now at your first ever signing at the bookstore in the city of Green Port outside of DeLuca Falls. 

Shawn's arms encircle you from behind and you lean your head against his shoulder. He's warm, cuddly and safe in the crowded bookstore. He places a kiss on your temple. "How is it going darling?"

"Great." You cover his hands on your stomach. "I never imagined I'd get to have a signing like this."

"People loved your first book. It was wonderful."

"Oh shush."

"It was." He kisses your cheek. "I'm very proud of you. You're an incredible writer." 

"Stoppp. You're being mushy." You giggle and he squeezes you tight. "But thank you."

"Of course." 

A young woman about your age walks up to you and Shawn and he breaks away, giving you space, but not going too far. "H-hey," the young woman smiles nervously. 

"Hello. What's your name?" 

"Amelia. It's so nice to meet you."

You take her hand and she is trembling. "Did you have a question? Or did you just want to chat?" You ask warmly. 

"I have a question. If I can?"

"Mmhmm. Fire away, I love questions."

Amelia looks to your right where Shawn is talking to your agent. "Is that your boyfriend?" 

"Shawn?" You point him out and she nods. "Yes."

Shawn steps closer, wrapping an arm around your back and leaning his head on yours. "You called?" 

"I didn't mean to." You smile, knowing he only heard you in the packed store because of his enhanced senses. "Amelia was just asking if you are my boyfriend."

"Yes, I am." Shawn grins, showing off his fangs no doubt. You elbow him a bit and he smiles with his lips closed. He's been terrible about hiding his true nature lately, too comfortable around you no matter where you were. 

Amelia flushes bright red. "He...I couldn't help but notice...he is very much like Kier in Heartstrings. Is that a coincidence or..."

You smile and laugh softly. "No coincidence. Kier was definitely heavily inspired by Shawn. I guess he's sort of my muse when it came to finishing the book." 

"That's amazing." Amelia sighs softly. "You're so lucky if he is anything like Keir in the story."

"Just like him," Shawn purrs, pressing a kiss to your head that makes Amelia giggle and you roll your eyes. "I don't mean to rush you, but the signing starts in a few minutes."

"Oh! Yes, excuse me. I'm so sorry Amelia." You take her hand once more and she says no problem and thanks you for talking with her. 

Minutes later and the signing is in full swing. There is a line around the store of people waiting to have your name on their book. It's so fun, getting to thank everyone and hear their stories and theories about Heartstrings and your first book. Close to the end you see Shawn milling around in line about ten people back. He looks like he's actually waiting for his turn. 

Finally Shawn approaches the table and you give him a playful smile. "How can I help you?" 

"Sign my book?" He says, placing a copy of Heartstrings on the table. 

"Is that all?" 

"Hmm, maybe." 

You raise your eyebrows and lift your sharpie to sign the front cover. 

"Wait!" Shawn says and you pause. He leans down and kneels in front of the table so he's eye to eye with you. "Can you sign the inside cover?" 

"Sure?" You eye him suspiciously and lift the cover. When you look down to sign you're met with a ring embedded in black cushion that is set into the book that has been hollowed out in the center. 

"One more thing," Shawn says and you look at him.

There is a loud gasp and a myriad of awes and chatter as the fans behind Shawn share what they've just witnessed. You feel like your heart is going to explode. Shawn takes the ring from the book and holds it delicately between his fingers. 

"Will you marry me?" He asks with a smile so big he can't begin to hide his fangs. 

You cover your mouth as you let out a soft sob of happiness. "Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes!" 

Shawn slips the ring over your finger and walks around the table to hug you tight. "I'm so proud of you and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," he says softly into your hair, kissing your head between words. "I love you." 

You grip his back and press your face into his warm chest, smiling uncontrollably while feeling like a weight you didn't know you were enduring has been lifted. "I love you too."

End

---------------------

Thank you so much for reading. Please reblog to support so others can discover and read my stories as well. Thank you for your support, I can’t wait to write more stories! -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[macgyvermedical]

Bucky and hypoglycemia for the bad things happen bingo? (if he got some sort of messed up version of the super serum that causes him to burn through his reserves faster? back in the day hydra had to keep him on TPN or something because he burned calories so quickly?)

***Not affiliated with the official “Bad Things Happen Bingo” writing challenge***

Okay, here’s the thing- two people requested hypoglycemia at almost exactly the same time, for two different characters, so in order to stay with one-fic-per-square, we’re setting this Bucky (more accurately Winter Soldier… sorry)-gets-hypoglycemia fic in the middle of the second season of 1985 MacGyver. Enjoy!

Consider this a really weird pre-make of season 6′s “Humanity”

———————

January 1987, Somewhere in the Hungarian Countryside

Mac watched the man pace the small front room of the old farmhouse. He was tall and almost comically muscular even beneath the dark parka, with chin-length dark hair and grease pencil around his eyes. With the size of his torso Mac could only assume the parka was also concealing some form of body armor, though in the nearly 24 hours they’d been stranded together, he hadn’t seen the guy take it off or even loosen it. On the shoulder of the coat was a red star, promising an allegiance that left Mac wary.

Despite his best efforts the man hadn’t said a word to him. A few annoyed grunts to Mac’s intermittent stabs at conversation, sure, but for the time they’d been huddled, literally in the same room, Mac hadn’t even determined if they shared a language. The man had seemed content mostly with spending his time staring out the window at the bleak snowscape- the worst snowstorm to hit Hungary in decades.

Just their luck.

But lucky they’d been, in one sense. Their shared refuge looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry. Food and clothing was gone, but larger furniture items had been left, presumably too bulky to pack. What had undoubtedly been a bad situation for the family living there had been a stroke of fortune to Mac and his new companion. Among the remaining pieces was an old but still-working woodstove, which had happily accepted pieces of carefully cannibalized furniture. At least, as long as the furniture had held out.

“That’s it.” Mac said, pushing the last piece of chair into the stove. “No chance it’s stopped snowing out there, huh?” The man looked at Mac briefly, narrowed his eyes, and then turned back to the window. “That’s very helpful, thank you.” Mac looked around for a few minutes, feeling a sense of tense isolation he wasn’t sure how to describe. Outside the window, the snow had appeared to die down a little. A tree across the way was barely visible in a way it hadn’t been an hour ago.

“Uh, it’s gonna get kinda cold in here once this stops burning- what do you say you and I go see if they left us any fire wood?” Mac got up slowly. The woodstove had kept them alive, but it was still cold enough in the room that his muscles had stiffened sitting on the floor.

“They were supposed to come yesterday.” The man said suddenly. The words were flawless, with a distinctly American accent. Mac paused, a sense of unease coming over him. He had assumed the man was Soviet, but the accent seemed to indicate otherwise.

“Who’s ‘they’?” Mac asked. Undercover DXS? CIA? KGB? HIT? It would certainly help if “they” were someone Pete could call up for a diplomatic conversation. The man didn’t answer, but at long last Mac decided it was something they could talk about when they weren’t in danger of freezing. “Listen, I got a lot of questions and quite frankly that’s a cat you can’t put back in the bag. But I also don’t want to freeze to death, which is what’s gonna happen if we don’t find something else to burn. So… help me out?“

The man only nodded in reply.

In the end, if there was a woodshed, it was too buried in snow to find. They ended up trudging back and forth from a dilapidated barn carrying armfuls of feed hay instead. It wasn’t ideal, but again, lucky to have anything that wasn’t part of the shelter itself. The snow was deep, and after more than an hour of work, they might have bought two hours of warmth. Mac would have kept going- another hour might have set them up for the evening with careful planning- but his companion seemed to be struggling more than he expected.

“Let’s go inside for a minute and warm up, huh?” Mac suggested.

“I’m fine.” The man shook his head angrily, then continued unevenly towards the door. When he turned back to get more hay, Mac stood in front of the exit.

“Its cold out there, it’s wet, it’s not going to kill us to sit in front of the fire for five minutes to warm up.” The fire itself had almost died down.

“I said I’m fine!” The man shouted, suddenly punching the wall less than a foot from Mac’s head. The impact left a crater in the plaster-and-lathe wall. Mac ducked back, noting the flash of anger in the man’s eyes almost immediately becoming one of sudden terror. He changed tactics.

“Whoa, okay, how ‘bout we just stay long enough to kindle this fire back up, then we work until it gets dark.” Mac said. The man’s eyes still were wide with fear. “It’s fine, you’re okay, I’m okay, we’re just…” The man backed down and Mac let out a sigh of relief.

The fire had all but gone out, but the room was still delightfully warm after the blizzard outside. Mac settled uneasily back to sitting on the floor by the wood stove and picked up a handful of hay blades. “So, uh, you ever read The Long Winter as a kid?” The man stared at him with an intensely blank expression. “It’s fine if you haven’t- see, once they ran out of firewood they started twisting straw into straw logs, which decreased the surface area and the amount of oxygen that could get to the straw and basically made it so they would burn longer. I’m hoping we can make something similar happen with this hay. Here-” Mac demonstrated twisting the blades together. To his honest surprise, the man seemed to try to mirror him.

“You got it.” Mac encouraged, noting an odd sort of smile play on the man’s face.

But several bundles later, Mac started to get worried. He’d assumed the man’s unsteady gait and shaking had been a result of the cold, but it had been a while since they’d been inside, and Mac had more than recovered himself. His companion, however, seemed to be shaking even more than he had outside and was having increasing difficulty with the bundles of hay. Something else was going on.

“So you blew up my truck, you killed my asset and put people relying on his intel in jeopardy. I spent a lot of last night worrying you might up and decide to kill me too. Then I hear you speak American English with a New York accent. What do you say I’ll answer a question if you do?” The man grunted non-committaly.

“Fair- I’m happy going first- you mentioned ‘they.’ I assume that’s an exfil team. What made you mention them?” Mac asked. “Were they supposed to kill me when they got here yesterday or do something for you?” The man scowled. “Both?”

Mac sighed as he threw another bundle into the fire. Something was going on, and it was getting worse. “Listen, I know you’re trained not to talk, but that’s not what this is about anymore and I’m not going to hurt you- in fact if you’re working for anyone besides the DXS and you end up dead, this is probably going to be an international incident. And right now I don’t think you’re doing so hot. Help me out a little here.” In the light from the fire, Mac could see a sheen of sweat on the man’s face. He again didn’t respond.

“You’re irritable, you’re shaking, you’re pale, and even though its barely above freezing in here, you’re sweating… are you withdrawing from something?” Nothing. Then something dawned on Mac. It was a long shot, but if it was true at least they’d have a starting point. “It’s been over 24 hours since either of us ate- have you ever been told you have a problem with blood sugar?” The man looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t.

“You’re not lookin’ to make this easy for me, are you?” If it was blood sugar, though, that was something relatively solvable. Even if it was withdrawal or hypothermia, either of those would be easier to weather with some sugar on board. The question now was- where would he get sugar?

Mac looked out the window. Not only was it getting dark now, but the snow looked worse. There was objectively no food left in the house, and this late in winter, his options for wild sugar were pretty much inner pine bark and acorn starch if he could dig deep enough to find some- and acorns were… energy intensive to make edible. That wasn’t even acknowledging that if he left to forage for something, he was seriously risking getting lost or hypothermia. If it were just him, he’d much rather shelter in place until the sun came up.

But it wasn’t just him. He had to think of something, preferably while his companion could still safely eat…

Mac thought as he twisted the hay into yet another bundle. The man hadn’t so much as tried to pick up another handful of hay. “Okay, okay. I got something. When I was a kid my grandpa Harry won a bet. Ended up with this ancient, diabetic horse. You wouldn’t know it by the way he talked about it, but he loved that thing.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, this story gets better- there’s usable sugar in hay, but humans, we can eat hay but we can’t really digest it. We’d never be able to get enough into you to matter. Fortunately, I used to go out and have to soak that old horse’s hay to pull the sugars out of it.  I’m thinking we might be able to use that same process to extract some sucrose into water if you feel like doing nothing except drinking really terrible tea and peeing all night.” The man looked dubious, but Mac couldn’t really tell. “You think about it, I’m going to get things started.”

They’d been melting snow on the wood stove for drinking water in a worn old pot that had been left behind. It didn’t get it very warm with the size of the fire they’d been able to make, but it was good enough. Mac set about inspecting individual blades of hay for signs of mold, and then crumbling the best ones into the pot. With nothing else to do, Mac talked while he worked. “There’s a reason we can’t reasonably make ethanol from grass, right? Pulling the sugars out of grass into water is driven by a concentration gradient and even under the best of circumstances, we might get a solution that’s 1-2% sucrose. Honestly, since we don’t know how old this hay is, even heating up the water, I’m aiming for 0.5-1%. But it’s what we’ve got.”

At the 20 minute mark, Mac beckoned the man over to the pot. “Here- dip your hands in it so they strain out the hay pieces as much as possible.” Mac demonstrated. The man still looked shaky and unsteady, but not significantly worse since they’d started the process. Mac really, really hoped it was blood sugar. The man paused.

“I swear its not poison.” To prove it, Mac took a drink from his hands. It didn’t taste as terrible as he thought it would, a little earthy, and the vague hint of sweetness told him there was at least some sugar getting pulled out of the old hay. To his near surprise, the man copied him. “Okay, that’s good- keep drinking. Like I said, you’re gonna have to do this most of the night.” The man obediently finished the first pot of hay tea. Before Mac had completely finished dumping the dregs of the first batch and making the second, he could tell the man was already feeling a little better. He couldn’t believe that had worked.

By the fourth gallon in two hours, they were almost out of hay, but Mac was confident enough to leave the man in the house making hay logs while he went to get more.

Mac tried to make stabs of conversation, but after the danger was past and confident neither would kill the other in their sleep, Mac found himself dozing in between pots of tea and trips to the barn for more hay.

Mac woke suddenly to the man shaking his arm roughly. There was sun finally streaming through a window that was half-covered in snow. The fire had died down. “Get up. Leave now- before they get here.” The man ordered urgently. Once Mac got his wits about him, he could hear a faint commotion in the front of the house. He nodded, getting up stiffly and making for the back exit. The snow was more than 3 feet deep, but luckily, they’d kept up a path to the barn. Mac figured he could hide there until the man’s exfil team left. He made to leave, but the man caught his arm.

“Thank you.”

Mac made eye contact and nodded. “Any time.”

[josephkitchen0]

What is the Best Way to Store Firewood?

You’ve put in all the hard work of chopping the tree, splitting the wood, and now you’re ready to stack it for storage. But what is the best way to store firewood? If you use wood for heating or cooking, you understand the importance of knowing the best way to store firewood.

Whether you’re an old pro or a newbie to firewood storage, here are several helpful recommendations on the best way to store firewood for your homestead use.

Our best chicken secrets revealed with this FREE guide!

Even old pros say they got dozens of tips for their flocks by reading this guide. YES! I want this Free Guide »

Preparation Tips

Cut the ends of the logs as evenly as you possibly can, this will make them easier to stand for the best way to split wood.

The shorter the log, the more easily it’ll split.

Make sure to steer clear of any knots especially when you split wood the old fashioned way, with an ax.

Green Wood vs. Snag Wood

A newly cut live tree is known as green wood. A tree which is dead when you cut it is called a snag. The ideal moisture content of cured wood is below 20 percent in your split firewood.

If you’re purchasing firewood, be sure you ask if it’s green. If you’re told it’s seasoned, ask how long the wood has been aged and how it was stored for aging. The best burning wood is allowed to cure ( the process of drying out green wood) for a year before you use it. Green wood will not burn well, especially in a wood-burning cook stove. The constant opening and closing of the door required for tending a green wood fire will let smoke fill the room.

Green wood requires a great deal of tending and feeding of kindling just to get a little heat out of it. It won’t generate much heat and creates a lot of smoke. It’s definitely not suitable for an indoor hearth. Smoke might be OK for a campfire, but it does cause problems when you breathe it in an enclosed area.

You can split your rounds and then stack them to dry or you can age your rounds and then split them. It takes six months to a year for the correct moisture content to be reached, depending of course on the type of wood you cut.

Some people use a top-rated chainsaw to cut their wood, others use an ax, and still others use a wood splitter. This handy tool makes getting your wood supply laid in a breeze. My grandfather would have loved one!

Whether you get your exercise splitting by hand or use the time-saving method of a powered splitter it’s now time to stack your split wood. Papa always said, “Chopping wood will warm you twice! Once when you split it and again when you burn it.”

Stacking Your Wood Pile

Don’t pile it right on the earth. This brings the wood into direct contact with moisture. You’ve spent a great deal of time and energy getting your supply, don’t ruin it by improper storage. Take a page from the past and make use of a good old-fashioned woodpile.

No matter which kind of woodpile you decide to use, make sure the ground is dry and level. Pick a location which has proper drainage to ensure water doesn’t pool around the woodpile. Be sure the cover you have chosen will work in the location.

The “Straight Stack” is what we use to stack our firewood. We use scrap parts of lumber and old pallets as the base. We lay down two parallel rows 10 inches apart, if we use lumber, so both ends of the wood rest on the boards and the middle is off the ground.

If we use a pallet, we stack directly on it. We usually don’t pile higher than 5 feet high. I’m only 5’5” so we decided I should be able to see over it!

The thing I hate about firewood is it brings critters. All kinds of creepy crawly things. To reduce the chance of rodents or insects getting into your home, don’t stack the woodpile alongside the house. Just a tip for those of us who don’t enjoy mice running across the floor in the morning or those wood roaches looking for warmth and water!

There are several recognized forms of woodpile construction. The storage space on your homestead will determine which way works best for you. Besides the “straight stack,” there’s the popular “round stack.”

This method is done by lining up vertical rows in a ring shape all pointing toward the middle of the circle in a starburst design. I think this is a pretty design and in some countries, it’s the norm. While it is streamlined, the drying time can be increased because of decreased airflow.

Some people have a shed designated just for wood. You know, the proverbial woodshed. This, of course, is a great way to keep the wood dry. Be sure you have at least two open walls to ensure adequate airflow for proper curing. If you have an outdoor furnace, I would suggest placing the woodshed or some type of woodpile close by for convenience of filling the furnace.

How to Know Wood is Cured

Seasoned wood will have a lighter color to it. Depending on the type of tree you cut, it may even change color some. However, color isn’t the sole indicator. Look for hairline cracks on the outside surface of the wood. Seasoned wood may also weigh less and make a higher pitched sound when knocked on. Some people use a moisture meter to determine when the right moisture level is reached.

For proper curing, keep the wood exposed to sun and airflow. Tree bark is a natural moisture barrier, stack the wood pieces bark side up if lots of rain is an issue. Even under cover, this will help keep any excess moisture out of the wood. If excess moisture comes from the earth, like with snow or standing water, putting the bark side down will help resist moisture build up. At least, this is what an old-timer once told me.

If you don’t have a roof of some kind over your woodpile, use a tarp to cover it. If the tarp is the proper size and strength, your wood will be protected from snow and rain. I’ve seen many a woodpile totally rot because the tarp was too snug keeping air from circulating while the moisture was trapped inside. Even with snow on the ground, a properly tarped woodpile will remain dry and ready to be used.

Remember, it’s important to keep your wood-burning stoves free of creosote, which can collect in your chimney causing carbon monoxide poisoning and chimney fires. Proper chimney maintenance is a must.

What do you think is the best way to store firewood? Share your tips and experience with us in the comments below.

Safe and Happy Journey, Rhonda and The Pack

,

  What is the Best Way to Store Firewood? was originally posted by All About Chickens

[thousand1000words]

Return to Llama Rama Vista. I went for a run this morning. Four miles through the countryside surrounding Llama Rama Vista. It was early for a Sunday morning, a little after 7 a.m., when I headed out down the road. Across the way at Angel Acres, a Christmas tree farm, I could hear the sound of a machete, whacking the pine trees into their classic Christmas tree shape.

What an existence, I thought. Seven o’clock on a Sunday morning on a three day holiday weekend, wrapping up the end of summer, and this guy is whacking away at Christmas trees. It smelled of Christmas, pine wafting through the air.

Christmas will be here before we know it, I thought.

I could smell blackberry as I ran past, prompting me to stop; it’s the height of blackberry season. I extended my hand, the berries so ripe, they fell off the vine into my palm.

Where did summer go?

I ran past pastures with horses, and goats, and llamas. Dogs ran around, barking their hellos, or in some cases, barking a stay away.

“Hey there, friend,” I say to dogs as I run by. “How are you doing?” They stop and look at me with a cocked head. The dogs, they’re always caught off guard when I ask them how they’re doing.

“How has your summer been?” I ask.

Now that you mention it, very well. The hound responds with a curious look.

I’m talking to a dog. Llamas. Chickens, even.

I stop, standing in the middle of the road, tears flow down my cheeks, as I am overcome with grief. A horse walks over, as if to check on me. The goats are screaming at each other. Goats. They always seem to be caught in a self-absorbed perpetual trauma. Have you ever met a happy goat?

I found myself wondering how summer disappeared. How did it leave me? What do I have to show for it? It started with a week launching renovations in Palm Springs that included coordinating new HVAC and a water heater, and then, dropping everything to go to Llama Rama Vista to assist my parents through there health issues.

A couple visits. Some work travel. A flooded basement in Highland Park. A gas leak. More work travel.

This last weekend of summer was a challenge. More of a challenge than hitching a ride from the airport to the hospital. More of a challenge than waiting for test results, and medications, and procedure orders. More of a challenge than looking my father in the eye and saying, “You’re not dying.”

“I’m not?” he asked.

“No. If you were, things would be moving faster.”

This visit, I arrived early enough for breakfast, and as soon as Mom and Dad pulled up in the car, he got out, moved to the back seat, and promptly began back-seat driving. It’s clear Dad is feeling better now.

We got home and we caught up on all the business of Llama Rama Vista: the landscape maintenance crew, what they have done, and how they’re not doing it exactly right—but not wrong enough to call anyone, just be annoyed; the proposal from a handyman service for small maintenance projects; the broken garbage disposal switch; and all the real estate listings forwarded to them by the agent we spoke with in July.

My Dad and I had the same conversations as we had last July, and he begins tangents, never leading back to the topic of conversation. Dad rattles on about complex real estate dynamics, and being in a bubble, and then having to buy in a bubble, and the wind in certain areas, and traffic that is coming, and Korea is going to create a mess for everyone, but Trump is handling it well, and That Hillery wouldn’t do a thing.

It’s a challenge talking to Dad, trying to move the project of downsizing their lives forward, when he’s turning into a paranoid, delusional, conspiracy theorist. When daily reality slips from your grasps, Fake News just complicates the situations.

I watch his face as he talks. Its the face of an eight-year-old boy; baffled, perplexed, scared, unable to think about what might be next. And so we don’t. We sit in silence.

It would be so easy to remind him in this moment we had this conversation before. Over a month ago. And correct him on facts, insist upon reality. But what would that accomplish? Embarrass him? Shine a spotlight on the growing darkness he ignores, that his mind is starting to fail? Maybe it would fill him with shame? The very shame he instilled in me when I was a boy—for not being man enough. For not throwing punches when the bully down the street shoved me to the ground. For not carrying a gun into the woods and killing an animal. For being creative. For being me.

I see the growing void in his eyes.

Conversation stalled, I walked around Llama Rama Vista. I see the woodshed that my brother Jeff has rebuilt. The woodshed that should have just been knocked over and hauled away, rather than repaired. But he chose to repair it, then spend days rafting on the river, toasting at a local beer festival, and bike riding through downtown Portland.

And next to the woodshed, the pile of leftover supplies in the driveway. Left for someone else to deal with and pick up.

After spending days this summer clearing the garage, I see that it is again filled with bottles that need recycling. Boxes that should have been used to haul stuff to Goodwill, shot to pieces, used for target practice. And new yard toys. New stuff. New stuff that will have to be hauled away.

It’s a sight that unleashes a complete rage. The rage that comes from backbreaking work undone by another person.

Jeff sweeps in, tackles grandiose projects that are unnecessary and don’t need to be done, only to leave in his wake a complete disaster of the simple stuff at a scale that Mom and Dad cannot handle.

So who handles it? I do.

And so, a half a day that should have been spent on other projects we spent on cleaning up after Jeff. I called him out, texting him.

“Why do I have to travel across the country to return your beer cans?”

There were 123 beer cans. That’s more than 8 a day.

He responded: “Because I built a shed and removed over 700 lbs. of debris. Pulled weeds for three hours. Stuff like that.”

“You couldn’t take it on the way to go rafting?”

“Where would we put the raft?”

“Maybe they need your help more than you need to raft.”

“You can keep the deposit.”

“Your generosity is underwhelming. Would be nice to come here and not have to spend a day just cleaning your shit. So I could focus on stuff that really would matter to them.”

Summon the martyr.

“Okay, Tim. I get it. Looking for a flight Monday. Will come do that. Anything else? Maybe I can take more unpaid leave. We live in two different worlds. I work two jobs seven days a week. You would not understand. So it is all yours. Lucas and I will clear out. I will send the realtor your info. The condo is yours.”

What. The. Fuck.

“No,” I wrote back. “We live in the same world. You’ve made different choices. And I’m not diminishing the stuff you have done. But you have to know that something as small as the bottles becomes a big deal for them.”

“Fine, I will sign the condo over. I am done. If they need me, they can find me.”

Clean up after Jeff done, I turned to the basement family room, helping Mom sort through everything, sorting Goodwill donations, documents for shredding, and items to be recycled. We worked together and independently through the afternoon.

Mom has been involved in sorority for years, and much of what she was going through was related to her activities.

I ran upstairs quickly, and when I came back, she was sitting on the sofa. Here eyes were glassy. I’m not sure if she had been crying, or worn out, or it was the medications. She sorted through things. Stuff. Paper. Every thank you note she’s ever received. And then she tossed it.

It’s as if she’s tossed out the only evidence that she really, truly mattered.

I continued my run this morning. A blue jay followed me for the last half-mile. I’m not sure if it was a coincidence and we were going to the same location.

Louise Hay died earlier this week. She was 90, and considered by many as the creator of new age. She professes that if you change your thoughts, you change your life, and that every moment is a moment for healing and forgiveness.

I finished that last half-mile, breathing in the scent of blackberries, and Christmas. Saying hello to the dogs and the goats.

I never felt so connected to the universe, and at the same time, so utterly alone.

[isabellelambert1975]

How to turn a pergola into a simple gazebo.

We decided to turn a neglected pergola in the corner of the garden into a simple gazebo, in order to create an ‘outside room.’

It has a wonderful view of the garden.

The view from the pergola along the back border. Sadly, the view of the pergola was less attractive.

But it was at the other side of the garden, so we had to take cushions, books, etc out there every time we used it. As a pergola doesn’t have a weatherproof roof, we couldn’t leave much out there.

If you look at the far corner of this picture, you can just see the pergola. It’s not far to take cushions and books, but it’s easy to forget to take them back, and if it rains…

It meant we hardly ever sat there. So we wanted all-weather ‘outside room’. Without spending much money.

I fell in love with corrugated iron sheds when we were in Australia. My brother-in-law, Richard, has just moved there,. He was told that ‘you can’t consider yourself an Australian man until you can work with corrugated iron.’

Inspiration from Australia – horticulturalist and TV presenter Stephen Ryan’s beautifully simple woodshed with wooden sides and a corrugated iron roof.

So he offered to add a corrugated iron roof to our pergola to turn it into a gazebo (a gazebo is a pergola with a roof. It can be a tent or permanent).

Can you use the original pergola?

Richard decided to use the original pergola as a structure for the gazebo. There were struts across the roof, sticking out. He removed these and reworked them into a simple rectangular frame, to which the corrugated iron could be screwed.

See the struts sticking out? It would be difficult to attach corrugated iron evenly to them.

However, that will depend on what condition the wood is in. Although our pergola is probably more than 20 years old (it was here when we bought the house), it’s made of cedar, so is long-lasting (and nicely weathered). Richard thought it was worth re-using.

Instead of struts across, there is now a square frame for the corrugated iron to sit on.

Now for the corrugated iron roof

I’d originally thought of buying recycled corrugated iron, but couldn’t find any I liked.  And when I photographed garden maker Posy Gentles’ shed, she’d used a curved new corrugated iron for the roof. It almost disappears, as you can see from the photograph below.

Posy Gentles’ homemade shed has a curved corrugated iron roof. So we decided on curved corrugated iron.

We ordered it from Southern Sheeting.  You need to measure the width and length of the roof, and how high you want it to be. Don’t forget to take any overhang into account. They delivered 5 sheets cut to order. We gave them 2-3 weeks notice.

The next stage

Richard then added a central beam to support the roof, at the top of the curve. He bought a strong new piece of wood for this.

Richard set the new roof support on top of T shaped stubs made of the old wood. The wires you can see are solar fairy lights. A friend has pointed out that ‘lights need to look good in the daytime as well as when they’re lit’ so I have a little more styling to do in here.

Richard adding the five sheets of curved corrugated iron to the new roof structure. He said that it was harder to work on curved corrugated iron than straight.

The important thing is getting the first piece of corrugated iron aligned. Corrugated iron fits by overlapping one and a half corrugations, so each piece rests on the previous piece.

He used self-tapping screws with an electric screwdriver, which means that he didn’t have to drill holes for them.

How long did it take?

The work took Richard 2-3 days to complete. If you’d worked in curved corrugated iron before, it might have taken a little less time.

We enjoyed a candlelit BBQ in the new gazebo. We’re still not sure what to call it. I favour The Tin Corner. A friend tells me that Gertrude Jekyll (or possibly someone else) created a gazebo with just four columns and a roof, so that she could sit there and listen to the rain. It was called The Rain House.

The cost

The curved sheeting for the roof cost around £300. If you were costing labour, too, you’d need to add the 2-3 days work (thank you, Richard!).

Screws, brackets and the new wood cost around £60. Richard used a circular saw to cut the wood, as well as the electric screwdriver. The corrugated iron screws came with the corrugated iron, so you order those from the supplier.

And the new Tin Corner by daylight.

And we can have breakfast in the garden.

How easy is it?

Richard describes himself as ‘handy’ rather than an ‘expert DIYer’, having built a corrugated iron structure in Australia. He learned how to work with corrugated iron from YouTube.

The end result….

We’ve eaten outside every night since.  It has rained – extensively – and our cushions stayed dry. However, it’s worth noting that we haven’t put guttering on. Where the rain falls on the soil, it’s absorbed. However, on one side of the gazebo, the rain falls on the stone floor. That splashes quite a bit, so that side does get a bit wet.

Vintage folding chairs for seating.

So I’d advise making sure that the overhang on both sides goes onto earth, rather than splashing onto stone. I’ve noticed that restaurants edge their pavement seating areas with pots and troughs – I wonder if this is to absorb water dripping from canopies rather than splashing their customers? I plan some pots and troughs…more styling ahead…

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