Home Is Your Heartbeat ('Home Is' Book Two - Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 17 - Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall (Coldplay)

NATE

Lift the kettle using a couple of pieces of wood, like tongs. Carefully carry it over to where he's laying out two battered enamel cups.

"No sugar, I'm sorry. But we can share this?"

I pause the tea-making and pull out the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup from the inner pocket of my jacket. 

"Muttley!  Leave the poor man alone."

He gave a soft laugh. Before Mutt snuck in one final....and no doubt stinky....lick of his chin.

"I'm good with just the tea thanks, Nate. Never really been a chocolate man. Though I do admit to the occasional hankering for some peanut butter."

He gently took Mutt's muzzle in his hand then levered him into a sitting position. As he'd seen me do when we first....ummmm....met?

I finish pouring before handing him one of the mugs. Grab the other and flop cross-legged on the ground a few feet from him.

"My brother went through a heap of those, but he much preferred the double taper though. He started with Wax wood except they kept breaking. So he went onto Oak....like that one there."

"But I don't recognise this wood at all, Morgan"  I indicate the closer of the two.

The look of surprise showed on his face once I started talking about his Bo staffs. To me, it seemed the most neutral of topics as an icebreaker?

"Maple. Just as hard but has a lot more flexibility. Not as much jarring to the hands and wrists when making contact"  He picked it up, offering it to me with a smile.

"Go on now....it's Ok"  When I hesitated he pushed it forward again.

"Thank you."

I run my hands up and down the stick, feeling the wood. It's as smooth as satin underneath my fingertips. Almost a work of art to be honest and with such a heavenly texture.

"Did you make it?"

"No. That one was gifted to me, by....a friend who taught me how to use them. The other one belonged to him as well. He made both."

I nod, catching the undertone in his voice. It's telling me his friend no longer has any use for his.

"Would you've done it....if I hadn't come across you?"

"Wow, Morgan!  You really don't believe in small talk, huh?"

I'm not angry at his abrupt change in topic. Just didn't think it'd come up for discussion so soon is all. May as well usher this  elephant out of the room as quickly as possible.

At least he didn't say those five little words....thank heavens 😌

Morgan didn't say anything actually. Simply waited patiently for my response to his question.

"Naaaah!"

"Having it....the pistol in my hand? Made me think about it, for sure. How nice it'd be not to have the hurt, the pain or the worry anymore. Simply opt-out. But actually doing it?"  My lips give another wry twist as I shake my head.

"Waste of a good bullet. And I'd wobble so much....probably miss. Do a Vincent Van Gogh on myself instead"  I let out a soft laugh, tugging on my ear.

He gazed at me for a long time while I sipped my tea. Yet it wasn't a gaze that made me uncomfortable. We're strangers, yes. But he was just trying to get a feel for me. My words....and if I actually meant them.