Page 55 of Wren's Winter

“I’m the neighbor.” Stepping to the side, I waved him up the stairs. I didn’t hide the disappointment flooding through me at her hesitancy. “I’ll leave you to each other.”

Back in my house, I watched out the window as she let him in the front door. The easy smile he gave her and the way he was exactly the right height for her small stature. He didn’t hulk over her. They complemented each other.

She never said what he did, but from the look of him, he had a good-paying job. He probably didn’t have to buy value-brand cookies and do his own oil changes. Not that he looked like the kind of man who knew how to change his oil. But some women liked that. Wren had liked that, or she wouldn’t have been with him for so long. And now, he was here to get her back. There could be no other reason for him to drive a hundred miles to this mountain town just to chat.

After about thirty minutes of watching the house and seeing nothing of interest, I shoved my feet back into my boots and headed to town. There was no way she was going to get back together with that guy, right?

Maybe?

Shaking my head as I walked into the grocery store, I decided I needed to get food for dinner, anyway. If Wren sent him away, we could talk and have a meal together. If not, well, I could eat leftovers for a few days.

Between the oranges and apples, I turned to the sound of my name being called.

Clark was standing by the glass case of donuts, a small bakery bag in his hand.

“Hey, man!” He did the bro handshake he gave to everyone. Normally, I liked seeing Clark. He was fun to be around for boarding and parties. But at nine a.m., when all I wanted to do was get back in the warm bed with Wren, he was the last person I wanted to get caught up with.

“Hey.”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “Tam told me about your little lady friend. Said she’s real hot.”

A rumbling heat was creeping up my neck at the description. I knew Tam wasn’t the type to say something like that about Wren, but Penny would. Without thinking about the way Clark would take it, I could see Penny spilling all the details of our double date.

“Right,” I said back, hoping he’d get the hint. “Um, her name is Wren. She’s renting the cabin across from me.”

“Nice, easy access, right? Got to love the conveyor belt of pussy we get around here, huh?” He laughed, a bawdy loud thing that made Mrs. Norris at the other end of the bagged salad display glance up in alarm.

I raised a hand to wave, my face growing warm, my eyes not looking at Clark. “It’s not like that.”

“What? This girl? Tam said she’s from out of town. What else could it be?”

I wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation about my burgeoning relationship with Clark of all people, in Icicle Creek Market of all places. “Something, I don’t know.”

“Whoa, are you actually into this chick?” he laughed at the comment. “No way. Is the player getting all pussy whipped?”

Frowning, I grabbed a lemon, tossing it in my cart. “I’m not pussy whipped.”

“Of course not. How could you be? You’re the man, after all. The guy who fucked two different chicks on the slopes on the same day.”

I wanted to say that was a long time before I met Wren, but it was only a few months before the passing of my grandparents. “I’m not trying to be that guy anymore.”

“Yeah, okay.” He laughed. “I mean, it’s not like you’re really into this girl. You? We all know you’re great for fun with the ladies, but you’ve always been the bag ’em and tag ’em type. Some of us aren’t meant for commitment, and that’s okay. I get it. I’m the same way. Know your strengths, man. Chaining ourselves to one vag? No, thank you. How does that even work? I don’t know, and neither do you.”

He laughed again, as if we were commiserating.

I studied this guy in front of me. The red-rimmed eyes. The broken blood vessels on his nose. Is this who I wanted to be? It was a lonely life being alone in that cabin with only my dog. As a new twenty-one-year-old, I would go to the bar and see those old men belly up at the bar, flirting with the bartender. The way they thought they had a chance with them, their faces bloated and veiny as the night wore on. Their too-loud laughs and chants of Come on, sweetheart. A little smile wouldn’t hurt, between cruel jokes about their ex-wives.

Is that my future?

Deep down, I knew, while Clark’s disgusting comments were a simplification, there was a shard of truth that was embedding itself in my mind. As much as I wanted Wren around, I didn’t have the first idea of how to be in a relationship. What happened a week down the road, two? A year? All I had was the theoretical knowledge from other people. I didn’t know how to actually be there for someone else. And Wren deserved someone who would treat her better. Someone who knew what he was doing.

I wasn’t that man.

I gave a mumbled goodbye, grabbing the rest of my items in a daze. Back in the truck, I leaned my head against the steering wheel. Sitting in the same spot where Wren had ridden me only a day before. The same spot where she opened her eyes as she moved as the world tilted beneath me and all I knew was I wanted her to stay.

But now, in the light of morning, without her beside me, the insidious words crept in. My parents told me I didn’t know how to take things seriously. Clark and his assumptions about what kind of man I was. The way women in the town would flirt casually. The careless way my previous flings would leave. Who was to say that Wren didn’t feel the same? Yes, I was experiencing emotions I didn’t know were possible to exist for another person. But she was leaving me, just like all the other women did. As much as I felt different, how could I know she did? She told me herself she was getting out of a long-term relationship, that I was a rebound was the likeliest scenario.

With Wren, I wanted to believe that falling for her would be enough. But it wasn’t. I didn’t need years of experience in relationships to know that a novice like me was bound to make mistakes.

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