Page 64 of Wren's Winter

Penny frowned, shaking her head. “It’s at least three miles to the bar, Adrian.”

Snagging my coat off the floor, I shoved my feet in my boots. “I don’t care.”

“Do you want breakfast before you try to hike in a blizzard?” Penny stood, taking two steps to the kitchen.

The memory of the overly salted bone-dry chicken and rice dish she shoved in my hands a month before made my stomach roll.

“No, I’m good.” A glance at Tam had him raising his brows in agreement. “I’m going, one way or another.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Penny and Tam did that weird couple telekinesis thing, having an entire conversation with brow raises and head tilts.

After a minute of their nonverbal exchange, Tam sighed loudly. “Fine! I’ll drive you to your truck. But if you get stuck in the snow going up that hill, I’m not towing you out until the storm is over.”

I nodded at him. I was ready to walk. Every inch closer to Wren was an inch I’d take.

Wren

From my spot at the window, I watched as he got back in his truck. Waited for him to come back. Once the anger subsided, I was left with a dull ache that bloomed across my chest, burrowing deep.

When I was fourteen, I was dumped for the first time. Shane sat in front of me in English class and would twist in his seat to talk to the people around him. He had a big laugh and a pinky he broke when he was seven that was far shorter than the rest of his fingers. We were paired up to discuss Lord of the Flies together. He had thick, curly black hair he gelled to the point of it being rock hard and soft brown eyes. Our first kiss was outside his parent’s house after trick or treating in his much more expensive neighborhood. He pulled up his Ghostface mask, and I leaned in on red sequined shoes, careful not to let the fake blood of his plastic knife get on my Dorothy Gale pinafore.

Three months later, my parents had moved us to Wellton, Arizona, and I was floundering at my new school. The phone call wasn’t a surprise. It had been over a week since he returned my calls, and I heard from my one friend that Shane was talking to Lauren Blankenship in the hallway. Still, I cried that night. I cursed my parents for having us move yet again, cursing Lauren Blankenship for being there when I wasn’t and cursing Shane for not wanting me.

Reflecting on that moment, it all felt so silly and juvenile, but the aching that formed under my ribs, the crush in my lungs, and the tingle in my fingers was a wholly new experience. Over the years, I would be dumped again and would be the dumper. I would experience a shade of that pain again. But never again would the hurt be as fierce as the first time, clinging to the phone and begging him to reconsider.

Until today.

With Shane, with Buck. I thought I knew heartbreak, but nothing compared to the visceral pain of hearing those words from Adrian. My body splintered into a million pieces, all slicing edges on one another. I was shards. Somehow, I was able to get behind the door before breaking down.

As much as I told myself that how I felt for Adrian wasn’t love, I knew it was wrong. Nothing else could hurt this much. I wasn’t only losing Adrian. It was the life I had built in my mind, the home I created in this town, and the life I finally wanted to call my own.

So many wrong turns in my life to lead to his front steps. While I could kid myself that it wasn’t serious, I wasn’t going to lie to myself.

Loving Adrian was never wrong, but maybe he could be my path to something new. Even if he was no longer on the road with me.

Adrian didn’t come back, and neither did Buck. Briefly, I wondered what happened to him. He would have to get his car at some point, but I wouldn’t make it easy for him. Knowing him, he got a hotel room downtown and was currently drinking his sorrows away with some local lady. That the image of Buck taking some woman back to his hotel room didn’t bother me at all proved I had made the right call. I should have done it months before.

Hours passed, and eventually, I wandered from the window where Adrian wouldn’t be and to the kitchen. There were a few cans of wine left over from my shopping trip. I was leaving in the morning, alone, and, if I was persistent, hungover. I started on the white wine, the cold sharp taste welcome on my tongue. On a plate, I piled cheese and meat, almonds and satsuma pieces. My own charcuterie plate. Between gulps of canned wine, I shoved the food into my mouth, tall stacks of crackers, cheese, and salami. Pulp from the small oranges stuck to my fingers and gathered dust from the nuts. It wasn’t graceful; it was gluttony. But no one was around to see my feast.

The first can drained, and I opened the second. My plate empty, I glanced out the window at Adrian’s dark house. Where was he? Meeting a new tourist in town? Seeing that beautiful blonde, Layla? It was so easy to fall under his spell, to think that maybe I could be more for him. But he obviously didn’t want that. Once again, I was foolish for a man.

Clutching the can to my chest, I watched the snowflakes as they came down, lush white bits floating in the darkened air. The front of my car was already obscured by the thin layer accumulating. How I was getting out tomorrow, I wasn’t sure, but that was a tomorrow issue. Tonight was for canned wine and wallowing.

Pulling my sweater closer around me, I shivered in the chilling cabin. Adrian had built me a fire when I was working earlier, but the logs burned down hours before. Eyeing the stack of kindling and logs beside the stove, I wrinkled up my nose. What was the first step again?

It was all easier when Adrian was here to show me. Another big glug of wine down the hatch, and I gathered what seemed like enough sticks and various stuff to start a fire. The process took me over thirty minutes, two burned fingertips, countless pieces of wood, and over ten sheets of newspaper before the fire grew enough to catch the kindling on fire.

Content with my good work, I slapped my hands together and glanced around the cabin to gloat. No one is here to see my accomplishment. Another glance out the window, and still, Adrian’s truck is not back. It’s dark now, an inky-blue vastness outside. Dark and cold. Taking a sip of my wine, I narrowed my eyes at the empty house. He left for who knows how long. Left me and, more importantly, left his dog. That poor puppy.

Well, that won’t do. Before I could think about the millions of reasons, it was a terrible idea I was stalking to the door. I shoved my feet into my boot and pulled my coat on. Beneath my feet, the new powder sank down as I trudged across the way. Fat, cold flakes clung to my hair and shoulders as I made my way onto his front porch. Testing the knob, I was unsurprised to find it unlocked. A quick stomp of my feet to clean off the snow, and I was inside. Maizie came down the stairs at my entrance.

“Don’t worry, girl. I’m here to rescue you. You can have salami and gouda with me. We’ll have a girl’s night.” Maizie blinked at me with her big brown eyes, her big tongue lolling out of her mouth. I scoop her up, stuffing her inside my coat, which I zipped up until her head stuck out the top, and we made our way back across the street. Halfway over, I let her down so she could do her business before coming back inside.

Now, with the two of us in the cabin, I made her a doggy plate, setting it on the floor beside a bowl of water. Maizie ate all the food and then jumped up on the couch with me, where I was still nursing my second can of wine.

I ran my fingers through her thick, wiry fur as she closed her eyes. What will Adrian think when he shows up back at his house and finds his dog missing? Dognapped.

It was an odd reversal of the woman who took all his silverware but left Maizie. I wasn’t going to keep her, even if I was upset with the way he treated me. I wasn’t a monster. It was dog sitting. Without permission.

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