“Women,” Jasper said, with a shake of his head. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but Kathy and I’ve been married fourteen years, and I still have no idea what goes on in her head.”

Noah dipped the brush in the paint and slapped it against the window trim.

“Just try talking to her, okay? Leave the rest of us out of it and go talk to her,” Gannon pleaded.

“I’ve tried! She won’t return calls. She’s ignoring my texts.”

Gannon muttered something about the things he did for his wife under his breath. “Look, Noah. You seem like a nice guy. If you want to pursue something with Cat, pursue it. Make her give you a firm no if that’s not what she wants. And then don’t talk to me about it ever again.”

“It seems like the only time she wants to talk is after—”

“Shut the fuck up, Yates! Are you trying to get me to throw you through the window?”

“Dude,” Jasper whispered on Noah’s left. “Don’t poke the bear, man.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just… stupid and confused.”

“Look, just talk to this woman who I’m pretending is not my twin sister. Okay? Do us all a favor and lock her in a closet until she talks. And then don’t give me a status update.”

“Got it. Okay. Thanks,” Noah bobbed his head. Talk to her. He could do that. Somehow. Merry wasn’t that big. She couldn’t hide from him forever.

“Great. Awesome. Now, can we please finish this goddamn treehouse before filming?” Gannon demanded.

Noah dipped the paint brush back in the can feeling marginally more hopeful.

--------

That evening, covered in paint and nursing a few splinters, Noah wandered toward home. His shoulders hunched against the cold. He’d grown up here, so Merry’s icy winters were nothing new. But when he felt cold on the inside, no number of thermal layers could warm him up.

It was ridiculous. He was an adult, damn it. And so was Cat. He’d just go talk to her, clear the air.

He spun around and headed in the opposite direction. He’d just knock on Cat’s door and very calmly explain to her… something.

He was still working it out in his head when he spotted her ducking out of a production van and heading into Trailer Town. She saw him, and they eyed each other across the expanse of asphalt for a moment before she jerked her head toward an empty box truck next to the RVs.

Her face was unreadable. But Noah was committed. He climbed into the cab on the passenger side as she slid in behind the wheel on the opposite side. They closed their doors and then there was silence. The cab light slowly dimmed. It smelled like stale cigarettes and dust inside.

“You hurt my feelings,” she announced without preamble.