Page 59 of Any Girl But You
I know she wants to take this heartache away from me. But she can’t.
My dream is gone.
“I’m going to go,” I say. “I’ll call you later and let you know if I’ll sleep here or if the plows come.”
A heavy sigh releases on the other line. “Okay. Be safe. And I love you.”
These words are the only thing that make a crack in this awful day. “I love you, too.”
I straighten my legs in front of me, rest my hands in my lap, and my shoulders collapse.Fuck.I absolutely cannot believe this happened. But Zoey is right. I need a plan. At least for tonight, if I have to stay here, I need to figure out a way to not freezeto death. With the two windows busted out, I turned off all heat. But maybe if I put up an industrial packing blanket in the window, I can block the cold air from coming in and just eat the cost of reheating this place for the night.
I drag myself from the floor, grab the ladder, and hammer the blankets tight into both windows. Glass crunches under my feet as I move across the room. I grab a broom and start sweeping. I sweep, cry, sweep, cry.
With no wind, the physical movement, blankets covering the windows, and the heater kicking back in, the barn begins to warm. I snap a hefty black garbage bag in the air, stuff it into a trash can, and start clearing piles.
A bulb ornament that looks unbroken rests beneath a table. I squat and reach for it. “Ouch. Shit.” Great. Just what I need. I scurry over to the sink and wash the cut, then grab the first aid kit. Once I’m bandaged up properly, I go back to work. An hour goes by, then two. I need some air.
I throw on my jacket and walk the property. Tears stream as I pass by the homemade signs.Anyone seen Rudolph?is missing theR.Where did Mrs. Claus put my boots?is cracked in half. I swipe at tears with the back of my glove, then drag it back to the barn to fix for next year—ifthere is a next year. Right now, I don’t think I want to try this again.
God, how did I get here? I left New York, my career, my home, for this. Did I make the right choice? Maybe I should go back to New York and start over again.
Stop. What am I even saying? There is no Zoey in New York. Or Frankie. Or Morgan. There are not the nice people at the coffee shop, or the slow traffic, or Lake Superior, or the church ladies who show up to help build a stockpile of goodies for someone they don’t know. Nope, I’m not doing this. Enough feeling sorry for myself. I move my shoulders back, lift my chin, and continue moving around the property.
After I gather all the broken signs, which were less than half of all the signs, I start shoveling the wraparound porch. My muscles burn, my breath is heavy, my heart thuds. I should be feeling better with the physical exertion, but I’m not. I wish I could be all positivity and sunshine like my girlfriend, but this is disastrous.
I move to the back of the porch when faint zipping sounds echo across the valley. It grows quickly, gets louder, and it sounds like it’s coming up the trail to my property.Freaking snowmobilers.Sounds like a herd of them. I swear I’m not a violent person, but if they’re on my property, I’m installing a barbed-wire fence and they can deal with the consequences.
Okay, fine, perhaps murderous thoughts are not the best, but this is private property, and my trees are delicate and…Ugh!They are definitely on my property. By some miracle, the seedlings were still standing when I checked earlier, and if these asshats do anything to harm them, I’m not in the mood to play Minnesota-nice. They will absolutely be receiving the full pissed-off Quinn Lee New York treatment. I toss my shovel and stomp to the front of the property and…Wait,what?
What’s happening here? Several long moments pass before I fully take in the scene. And when I do, my chest lifts. It not only lifts but soars all the way to the moon. Zoey, Frankie, Morgan, and Debbie hop off the snowmobiles and remove their helmets. Right behind them is a lifted Jeep that smashes through snowbanks with ease. Zoey’s dad waves from behind the steering wheel as a mountain of supplies rattle against the Jeep windows.
I rush over to Zoey, but before I can say anything, all of them wrap me in a group hug. The strong, healing power of these five people, supporting me, lifting me, holding me up when I can barely hold myself, fills me and I start bawling. Zoey grips me as tight as she’s ever held me, transferring all the care and love I need and pulling my worries away.
When I pull back, I scan their faces. “I can’t believe you guys all came.”
Frankie claps her hands together. “Where do you want us first? We’re all here, ready to be bossed around by you for as long as it takes to get this place back in shape.”
My mouth drops open. I don’t think… I don’t know. Is this even doable? Wasted time? Worth it? “What about Thanksgiving tomorrow? Zoey, Debbie, you guys have all the prep today, right? And you’ll be so tired and?—”
“Now, don’t you even worry about that for a second,” Debbie says, planting her gloved hands against my shoulders. “Thanksgiving is about being around family and friends, and right now we are around family and friends. If we’re too tired, I’ll order pizza, and we will save it and do it next week. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
My lips tremble. Behind Zoey’s fogged glasses, her eyes are encouraging. She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes. Behind her, her dad is smiling. And to the side of him, Morgan gives me a firm nod and a wink. “Do you all actually think we can do this?”
“Absolutely we can,” Zoey says. “Look at us. A force to be reckoned with, if I do say so myself. Just point us where you need us. What you’re doing here is special, Quinn. The town is going to love it.”
My heart bursts from my body. I have never felt anything like this before. This rock-solid, unfaltering support and belief in me and what I’m trying to do. I rest my head on Zoey’s shoulders and take a breath. “Thank you all so much. I literally don’t know what to say.”
“Which never happens, so let’s all recognize this for the miracle that it is,” Frankie says and groans when Morgan nudges her elbow into her side.
“We got you, Quinn,” Morgan says, tugging her hat a little snugger on her head. “How about we head inside, and you show us where to go?”
After we grab the supplies from the Jeep, and everyone stomps through the snow toward the barn, I tug at Zoey’s arm. She pauses and turns to me, her eyes sheepish. “I know, I know, I promised I wouldn’t come,” she says. “Don’t be mad, okay? This isn’t about me not listening or respecting what you say. This was about me and my selfish need to help.”
My God, she’s amazing. I don’t know what I ever did in my life to deserve someone like Zoey, but here she is. Plopped right in my lap, a gift from the universe. I wrap my mitted palms around her red cheeks and pull her into me. I kiss her chilly lips, warm them with mine, then fold myself into her. “Thank you for not listening to me.”
She kisses me on the top of my head, then grabs my hand. “Come on. Let’s make this Christmas miracle happen.”
THIRTY-ONE
