It’s always quiet out here on my property. The folks in town call it the Barns, on account of the wooden structures clustered around the end of the driveway. Every few years or so, I get the itch to build something big again, and another barn pops up on my land. Like mushrooms springing up from the soil.

Josie teased me about it on that last visit. I’d built Harry his own separate place to stay when he came back from college—a gift from one grown man to another. The gift of privacy, respect and space.

Took my time with it, too, building him a proper en suite bathroom and an open plan kitchenette; floor to ceiling bookshelves and a reading nook. There’s nothing fancy about that barn, but every inch of it is well made and hand-finished.

Harry flushed bright pink when he saw it. I even got a rare nephew hug.

And, “You have an addiction, Mr Bray,” Josie had said, a grin twisting her pretty mouth.

Well, joke’s on me. She stayed in Harry’s barn that summer instead of mine, didn’t she? On the sofa bed, sure, because they were broken up by then, but she was still too far away from me. Separated by all those walls.

An owl hoots as I approach the water’s edge. The trees dotted around are pitch black, their gnarled branches blocking out the stars, and already my chest feels looser.

Some days I think I can’t stand it: wanting Josie like this. Being parted from her while every cell in my body screams out to have her near. On nights like this when I can’t wind down to sleep, I get the craziest thoughts about loading myself into my truck and setting off for the city; tracking her down and bringing her home slung over my shoulder.

Hell, I’d stay there with her, if that’s what she wanted.

Like I said. Crazy thoughts.

But it’s fine. It’s just like pushing through any other hard thing: I need to take it one step at a time. One breath after another. Like sanding down an endless rough piece of wood, my muscles burning and eyes dry, hoping that sooner or later, the splinters won’t keep pricking and making me bleed.

A distant thump makes my back tense. There’s someone out by this creek with me.

I’m silent, not even breathing. Holding still while my ears strain for another sound.

Knew I should’ve got a dog. I kept meaning to, and could sure use the company out here, but I put it off. Told myself Harry should help me pick one, so I could be sure they’d get along when he comes home to visit.

Now I’m out here alone, on the edge of wilderness. The town’s over a mile back down that dirt path, and the nearest neighbor is nothing but a few squares of golden light across the dark fields.

I’m not scared, but I don’t like this either. Strange noises at night mean nothing but trouble.