the ground, a good three feet away. Conversationally close, Lyssa realized, but not intimate.
"It's been a long time since I've been out here," he said, his voice a little distant, as if he were lost somewhere else instead of with her. For a moment, she wasn't sure he was even talking to her.
"It's beautiful," she said, looking out into the pasture, taking in the green and sparkle of light from the sun off the stream. Animals were contently grazing as if there was nothing else in the world but them.
"Yeah, it's always been."
"But," she said, forcing the word she knew he was about to say.
"Things have changed."
"Not as much as you think, Cody. Not the core of you. That's still the same."
Despite the sunglasses and the Stetson Cody wore, she could see the tight knit of his brow. "You really believe that?"
"You're just afraid. I don't blame you. Change is never easy for anyone."
"You got your eyesight back."
The way Cody spoke the words, it was as if that made all the difference in the world. And maybe to him it did. But Lyssa knew differently.
"Yeah, I did. But even as wonderful as that is, it wasn't easy. And if you think about it, change, good or bad, is never easy for anyone. Every single day, people get married or divorced and start over. They go off to school, change careers, move across the country, and they're scared as hell. No one is immune.
"Everyone has this place inside them that they lock up all their fears, all the things about them that they're afraid to show to the world."
"I don't."
She couldn't help but smirk. "Sure. Even a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy like you has fears and you're staring at them now."
He stiffened.
"Yeah, and that's the scariest part," she went on, not allowing him to deny it. "When you can walk around sure of yourself, you never have to worry about that little box in your soul. You hide it, you nurture it, you may even rage against it sometimes when you're alone. Because it's yours. No one else gets to see it. All those things about yourself that make you uncomfortable, the things about you that you're so sure make you ... unlovable ... live there in that little box."
"Really," he said dryly.
She ignored his sarcasm and leaned back with her arms behind her, letting the shade of the tree cool her warmed skin.
"But when you can't see, suddenly it's like everyone around you can see what's there deep inside that locked box you've been hiding in your soul. All those things you fear people will judge against you."
"You mean, like not picking up your dirty socks for three weeks."
"Oh, that's disgusting," Lyssa said, laughing. "No, not those little superficial things. It's the things that make you vulnerable. The things that you've convinced yourself no one could possibly love you for. But you know what the greatest thing about love is, the people that love you don't see those things you fear the same way. They don't matter to them the way they do to you."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Maybe nothing. I don't know, I guess I'm not explaining myself real well. I've never been really good at that." Her shoulders sagged.
"No, it sounds real pretty. I just don't know why you're telling me. I mean, I pick up my dirty socks."
Lyssa laughed again, grabbed a fistful of grass from the ground, and tossed it at Cody. He flinched slightly when the blades hit his face and then brushed them off with a chuckle.
"I'm sure Isadore comes in behind your back and picks up your dirty socks for you."
"Hell, no, she'd beat me with a bat if I ever expected that. Come on, Lyssa, admit it.
You're really a slob, right?"
She laughed again. "No, quite the opposite, I'm afraid. I'm very compulsively organized, but that comes more from conditioning than personality. If even a hairbrush was out of place on my dresser, it used to drive me crazy because I knew it would take me forever to find it. My sister, Kim, used to rearrange my stuff all the time."
He gasped in mock horror. "I'll
"It's been a long time since I've been out here," he said, his voice a little distant, as if he were lost somewhere else instead of with her. For a moment, she wasn't sure he was even talking to her.
"It's beautiful," she said, looking out into the pasture, taking in the green and sparkle of light from the sun off the stream. Animals were contently grazing as if there was nothing else in the world but them.
"Yeah, it's always been."
"But," she said, forcing the word she knew he was about to say.
"Things have changed."
"Not as much as you think, Cody. Not the core of you. That's still the same."
Despite the sunglasses and the Stetson Cody wore, she could see the tight knit of his brow. "You really believe that?"
"You're just afraid. I don't blame you. Change is never easy for anyone."
"You got your eyesight back."
The way Cody spoke the words, it was as if that made all the difference in the world. And maybe to him it did. But Lyssa knew differently.
"Yeah, I did. But even as wonderful as that is, it wasn't easy. And if you think about it, change, good or bad, is never easy for anyone. Every single day, people get married or divorced and start over. They go off to school, change careers, move across the country, and they're scared as hell. No one is immune.
"Everyone has this place inside them that they lock up all their fears, all the things about them that they're afraid to show to the world."
"I don't."
She couldn't help but smirk. "Sure. Even a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy like you has fears and you're staring at them now."
He stiffened.
"Yeah, and that's the scariest part," she went on, not allowing him to deny it. "When you can walk around sure of yourself, you never have to worry about that little box in your soul. You hide it, you nurture it, you may even rage against it sometimes when you're alone. Because it's yours. No one else gets to see it. All those things about yourself that make you uncomfortable, the things about you that you're so sure make you ... unlovable ... live there in that little box."
"Really," he said dryly.
She ignored his sarcasm and leaned back with her arms behind her, letting the shade of the tree cool her warmed skin.
"But when you can't see, suddenly it's like everyone around you can see what's there deep inside that locked box you've been hiding in your soul. All those things you fear people will judge against you."
"You mean, like not picking up your dirty socks for three weeks."
"Oh, that's disgusting," Lyssa said, laughing. "No, not those little superficial things. It's the things that make you vulnerable. The things that you've convinced yourself no one could possibly love you for. But you know what the greatest thing about love is, the people that love you don't see those things you fear the same way. They don't matter to them the way they do to you."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Maybe nothing. I don't know, I guess I'm not explaining myself real well. I've never been really good at that." Her shoulders sagged.
"No, it sounds real pretty. I just don't know why you're telling me. I mean, I pick up my dirty socks."
Lyssa laughed again, grabbed a fistful of grass from the ground, and tossed it at Cody. He flinched slightly when the blades hit his face and then brushed them off with a chuckle.
"I'm sure Isadore comes in behind your back and picks up your dirty socks for you."
"Hell, no, she'd beat me with a bat if I ever expected that. Come on, Lyssa, admit it.
You're really a slob, right?"
She laughed again. "No, quite the opposite, I'm afraid. I'm very compulsively organized, but that comes more from conditioning than personality. If even a hairbrush was out of place on my dresser, it used to drive me crazy because I knew it would take me forever to find it. My sister, Kim, used to rearrange my stuff all the time."
He gasped in mock horror. "I'll
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