After the Fall

eyebrows up.
    “Uh . . .” I glanced at the menu. “You go ahead. By the time you order, I’ll know what I want.”
    He ordered, and I made an unusually fast decision to settle on the Reuben sandwich with a side of fries.
    After the waitress had gone again, I said, “So it seems like you’re pretty natural on the horse. Most people are wobbling all over the place the first time. Not that it was your first time, but you said it’s been a while.”
    “I’m a fast learner,” he said with a smile. “It’s not that much different than a motorcycle, though. At least when it comes to balance.”
    “Hmm, I guess.” I paused. “You ever thought about getting one? Or do you just want to learn for the hell of it?”
    “I’ve thought about it, but . . .” Shrugging, he lowered his gaze and played with the edge of his placemat. “I don’t stay in one place very long, so it’s never really been practical.”
    “You don’t stay in one place very long?”
    Ryan shook his head. “No. I’m kind of a drifter, I guess.”
    “Really? So, what? You just go wherever the wind takes you?”
    “Sort of. Sometimes I’ll go someplace to work for someone who’s offered me a job.” He sat back, twisting a little as if to work out some stiffness in his back. “Stayed with my grandma for a year because she needed someone to work around the house. But sometimes, yeah, I’ll pack up, pick a direction, and see where I end up.”
    “Oh. Interesting.”
    “I think I was born to be nomadic. Definitely raised that way.”
    “How do you mean?”
    Ryan leaned forward again, resting his arm on the edge of the table. “My dad and stepdad were both career military. Every three or four years they moved, and they were staggered, so it seemed like one side or the other was always moving.” He sighed as if just thinking about his childhood exhausted him. “I guess I never really got used to staying in one place for very long.”
    “I’m surprised you didn’t enlist yourself,” I said. “Seems like people get used to that life, and if they don’t want to get as far from it as possible, they stay in it.”
    Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Nah. The military’s not for me. I mean, I don’t mind wandering around, but I like doing it on my terms. If I don’t like something, I can move on.”
    “I guess that . . . that kind of makes sense. So, um, how long have you been in Tucker Springs?” And how long do you plan to stay?
    “About six months. And then my uncle in Tucson’s got a job for me starting the first part of November, so I’ll be out of here before winter.”
    Guess that answered that. I ignored the pang of disappointment as much as I could, but it slipped into my voice as I said, “Oh. So just a few more months, then.”
    Ryan nodded. “Yep. Then we’ll see how I like Arizona. If I don’t, there’s plenty of places I haven’t been to yet.”
    Had it been anyone else, I would have thought that was a sad, lonely life. But Ryan seemed genuinely content with it. I couldn’t comprehend that myself—the thought of moving into a new apartment within the same town was enough to make me hyperventilate—but obviously it worked for him.
    And with that knowledge, a weird feeling twisted in the pit of my stomach as I sat across from him, curling the corner of my napkin around my finger. On the one hand, disappointment because he’d only be here a little longer. On the other, something . . . else. Something I couldn’t quite identify. Like he’d just changed the rules, and now I was tempted to play.
    Easy, Nathan. You don’t even know if the man bats for your team.
    I cleared my throat. “What was that like, always being on the move as a kid?”
    “I don’t have anything to compare it to.” He shrugged. “It’s all I ever knew. Some people assume it was hell, but it really wasn’t. I wasn’t miserable as a kid. I was happy. Just . . . kind of nomadic, I guess. I was a loner, not lonely.”
    “You still a loner?”
    “Kind of. I have friends scattered here and there, and family of course.” He paused for a sip of ice water, and he watched the ice cubes clinking against the inside of the glass as he spoke again. “Mostly, I like being on my own, and I’m used to moving around. About the only thing I ever commit to for any length of time is a tattoo.”
    My eyes darted toward the lines and colors sticking out from under his sleeve. “What is your tattoo, anyway?”
    He pulled up his sleeve, revealing the