Page 70 of Wolves & Watercolors
Unconvinced, Cedar watches me for a moment but holds his tongue. When I keep my expression blank and say nothing, he goes back to dressing. My stomach sinks as he pulls a shirt down to cover those beautiful tattoos.
It takes too much effort to drag myself out of his bed and pull my clothes on so I can leave when he does.
The morning is brisk and I cross my arms again for warmth. Birds chatter and squirrels fuss in the branches above us. My emotions are a cacophony of sadness, regret, and frustration all competing for my focus alongside nature’s morning choir.
When Heath’s cabin comes into view, Cedar pauses. “I’ll be in the garden,” he says simply, raising my hand to kiss across the knuckles. “Will I see you later?”
“I’ll try.” It feels untrue.
The soft lines around his eyes almost shatter me. He draws me closer and kisses my lips softly. My body wants to cling to him and my heart aches. He is everything I don’t deserve.
“I’d like more time to say goodbye,” he murmurs into my hair. “But just in case, please know the last few days with you were everything to me.”
There is no response that would be adequate after that declaration. My heart flutters in my chest and my eyes sting. I turn, seeking him, and our lips meet in another slow kiss. The kind of kiss that bleeds emotion. It’s the only way I can tell him how I feel about him.
Too soon, the sounds of a community waking around us destroys our peaceful moment. I unclench my fingers and release the collar of his shirt. His fingers slip out of my hair.
“Goodbye, Cedar,” I whisper.
Those stormy eyes search mine, before he kisses my forehead and walks away. Part of me wants to race after him, fling myself into his arms, and hold tight like a baby monkey. But I can’t.
My steps are stiff as I follow the familiar path back to Heath’s cabin. The door squeaks as I push it open and step into the cheery kitchen.
“Good morning,” my uncle says, looking up from his phone. A half-eaten plate of eggs sits on the table along with a mug of black coffee.
“Morning,” I say, cringing as I wait for his questions about where I’ve been. They never come.
After a few moments of silence, Heath looks up again and raises one brow. “Is everything okay?”
Exhaling, I straighten and force the words out. “I think it’s time I go home.”
“What makes you say that?” Setting his phone down, Heath takes a drink from his mug, his eyes never leaving me. He’s calm and collected, but there’s an intensity about him that churns my stomach.
“I’ve got the whole plant magic thing under control, and I can’t take more time off work. Not if I want to pay my bills.”
“I understand.” There is none of the resistance that I secretly hope for. “I’ll miss you, but you’ll come back to visit soon, right?”
“Of course. Maybe in the fall before the holidays hit.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let me know possible dates and we will be ready for you.” He leans forward, hands draped casually across the table. “I’m happy to help, Aurora. It would be my privilege, and well worth the cost if you can come visit more often. Maybe you could take the whole winter off from the hotel and stay longer.”
“I really appreciate that. I’ll think about it.”
He releases me from his attention and my body relaxes. “Well, I’m going to go get my stuff together.”
“Need help?”
“I’m good.” With an awkward wave, I slip out of the kitchen and into the small secondary bedroom.
My paintings are carefully stacked against the far wall and the newest one stares back at me. Cedar’s beautiful wolf surrounded by his beloved garden. There’s a vibrancy in the painting I can’t take credit for. Even without the details finished, it’s bursting with life. It would be an excellent centerpiece for my next show, but I feel guilty taking it with me. Something so authentic deserves to stay here.
With reluctant hands, I wrap it and set it aside to give to Cedar. A parting gift so he remembers me. Maybe it’s cruel toleave him with a reminder of the girl who fell for him and then ran away, but I can’t help myself.
Possessions packed, I look around the cozy little room. A sense of finality sinks into my bones. Even though I have every intention of returning to visit, it won’t be the same as this first time.
Leaving hurts, and my instinct is to grit my teeth and speed through it with my head down. The sooner I return to my normal life, the sooner this will fade away and be a happy, warm memory. The thought stings.
Bag slung over my shoulder, I detour to Cedar’s cabin and lean the painting against the door frame. He’ll find it later and I can avoid his sad puppy dog eyes.
