Page 43 of Wild and Wrangled

She didn’t look at me when she answered. “It’s great. Riley really likes it. I’m excited for when it gets warmer.”

I nodded. “You’ll have to take her up the trails when the snow melts,” I said. To anyone else, it would’ve been a throw-away thing to say—like talking about the weather. But to us, it mattered.

I had shown Cam every trail behind the Wilson house. When I watched a blush creep up her cheeks, I knew she was thinking about something we shared at the top of my favorite one.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve told her about a couple of them. She, um, wants to see the rock couch.”

I grinned. “That’s a good one.”

Cam gave me a small smile in return, and my brain short-circuited enough that I dropped a dollop of mashed potatoes and gravy on my denim-clad thigh.

“Goddammit,” I muttered, but Cam laughed, and suddenly I didn’t care about the potatoes.

Every time Cam and I saw each other now, there was always a moment of awkwardness, which would make me wonder if we’d changed too much, if too much time had passed. But then we’d get through it (or in this case, I’d make a fool of myself), and we’d find that familiar sense of comfort and ease.

This was nice, this new fragile friendship we’d been building. It’s not like we could avoid each other anymore (well, she couldn’t try to avoid me like she had been); we were sharing the same square plot of land. With every wave when I left my house in the morning, or quick passing chat in the yard, it felt like we were finally getting used to each other again. Ourpresence in each other’s lives was small, much smaller than it ever used to be. But it was constant, and that felt good, after so much distance for so many years.

In a lot of ways, I felt like we were as close as we could be to being friends again. But I didn’t know if we’d gotten there by ourselves or if we were just giving in to the fact that our lives had begun to overlap too much for us to ignore it. But it didn’t matter to me how we’d gotten there if the outcome was the same.

“Good thing you didn’t get any on your sweater,” Cam said. “Then you’d have to change.”

“And that would be a damn shame.” I shook my head. “Were you in on this?”

“Me?” Cam put her hand over her heart in faux shock. “Never.” That meant she knew I was coming, and she came anyway. That made me happy. I didn’t fight the smile that crept onto my face, and I didn’t try to look anywhere but at her. It felt like another step in the right direction, another hunk of ice thawing. “It looks good on you, though—the color.”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to regulate my heartbeat. “I feel like the cream color kind of washes me out.”

Cam shook her head and shrugged. “No. It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I responded, and I hoped she couldn’t see my heart swell through this stupid sweater. “You, uh, you look nice, too.”

I watched the blush creep up Cam’s cheeks. I swear, that was one of my favorite colors. She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Amos scooting his chair back from the table and standing up.

“I just wanted to take a minute,” he said, “to thank all of youfor spending your holiday here. When Stella and I got married, Aggie made us this table that you’re all sitting at.” I looked over at my mom, whose hands were clasped under her chin as she smiled at her old friend. “It hasn’t moved from this spot for nearly forty years. When we first saw it, both Stella and I thought that we’d never be able to fill it with people—it was so big, and at that time, it was just the two of us.”

“So, today, when I look around and see this full table”—Amos scrunched his nose a little bit—“it makes this old man’s heart feel damn close to bursting. Stella taught me that the family you choose is just as important—sometimes more—than the one you’re born with. Everyone here is part of that family that Stella and I dreamed about.” Amos lifted his pint glass, and the rest of us followed suit. “Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers,” everyone at the table said in unison and began clinking their glasses together. When I clinked my glass with Cam’s, her eyes didn’t leave mine until after she took a sip of her wine.

—

After dinner, everyone dispersed throughout the house—to take a nap or read or watch football. I gave Emmy, Teddy, and Ada their presents—small leather jewelry cases—then went to find Cam.

I found her at the back of the house—in a little alcove with big windows and a beautiful view of the winter wonderland outside. She was sitting on the couch and looking out the window. God, she was stunning. My footsteps faltered when I saw her. She looked up.

She smiled at me—the same small smile she gave me at the dinner table.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. I, um, have something for you,” I said, holding up the large canvas bag I was carrying. “Can I?” I asked, motioning at the open spot on the love seat next to her.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she said. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m not really a presents girl, you know.”

“I know,” I said as I sat down next to her. But I knew Cam actually loved presents. “And I didn’t get you anything…technically.”

Cam tilted her head and studied me, confused. “Close your eyes,” I said. Instead of doing what I said, she just narrowed them.

“Why?” she asked.

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