Page 3 of When We Were Us
Sliding it out of my back pocket with my free hand, a small smile tugs at my lips when I see a picture of my best friend, Ginger, smiling back at me, all wild, red curls, and shockingly blue eyes. I swipe the screen to answer and tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder. I still haven’t texted her back, and she is probably freaking out.
“Are you stalking me?” I quip as I push open the door to my teenage bedroom.
“You already know I am.” I can perfectly picture her eyes twinkling under one beautifully arched eyebrow. “I’ve been watching you on that Friend Finder app since your flight landed so I could call. It kept going to voicemail. I just knew you were dead,” she jokes and then gasps. “God, Wren, I’m so sorry. I have such a big mouth sometimes.”
I laugh lightly because it’s so like Ginger to not have a filter. Her choice of words is so on-brand for the type of relationship we have that I take no offense.
“Not dead enough, apparently, because you found me.” Iheave my suitcase onto the bed with a grunt and move to the window overlooking the back of the property.
“Listen, smart ass,” she snort-laughs. “It's not every day that your best friend quits her job, upends her entire life, and flies one-trillion miles across the country to start a new life in the place she grew up.” She’s pouting again, but I know from the tone in her voice that she’s just worried about me. Still.
I flick open the curtains and glance out. Yep, still the same view. Garage, pond, and a giant weeping willow with a rotted rope swing that’s seen better days.
“Stop being so dramatic,” I say with a chuckle. “Montana is not one-trillion miles from California. And I didnotquit. I’m taking personal time, and since I’m the boss, it’s technically not even that. Besides, Timber Forge is not the place people moveto,” I remind her again, but there is no true malice there. I’m really glad to hear her voice, and Ginger’s intentions are always good where I am concerned.
In the years since leaving Timber Forge, Montana, I found California has become more like home, and Ginger has become the closest thing I’ve had to family there. Having lost both my parents before age eleven, I had no real family besides my grandparents, who, despite loving them very much, I hadn’t seen nearly as often as I would have liked.
Veterinary school had been intense, and it was difficult taking time away from classes and working as a vet tech while I completed my degree. There wasn’t much time for socializing, let alone traveling back and forth to spend time with my grandparents. They had both understood, of course, but that didn't stop me from feeling guilty about not seeing them much over the years. They both flew out for my twenty-first birthday, and then again when I finished my undergrad degree. But now, they’re both gone, and I feel more alone than I have in a long time.
Leaving Timber Forge was my dream for as long as I could remember. When your own mother leaves you at six, never to beseen again, and your dad drinks himself to death, you get used to grown-ups letting you down. But my grandparents never did. Even when we weren’t able to physically be together, we still talked on the phone at least once a week all throughout college and as much as possible after that.
They were one of the only bright spots to life in Timber Forge. It is a small town, and being the girl with no parents was really hard sometimes. Kids could be really mean when they wanted to, and even though my best friend, Finnley, didn’t have a dad growing up either, her mama was the sweetest. She never yelled and was always kind to me.
It was a stark contrast to my parents, who fought all the time. From a very young age, I was determined to not live the life they had. But leaving wasn’t easy either. I had friends and people who loved me, even if I wanted to leave.
My first week in California, Ginger and I met at a coffee shop and hit it off almost immediately. She was a year older than me and was looking for a roommate for her dinky apartment that was three miles from campus. I moved in the next week, and we shared that two-room, hole-in-the-wall while she studied marketing and I attended the veterinary program at UC Davis.
She started dating a dorky boy named Peter, who absolutely adored her, although it would be years before they were exclusive. I met Derek during the last few months of my internship. He was ten years older and working to establish himself as a large animal vet with Valley View Animal Hospital. We dated on and off, but I still had a three-year residency to complete. We were both too busy for anything serious.
After graduation, I kept the crappy apartment, and Ginger married and moved in with Peter.
Derek and I reconnected when we ran into one another the night of my thirty-second birthday, while at the grocery store of all places. He was still working at the animal hospital, and I wassplitting my time between three horse ranches. It was fulfilling work, but we both wanted to be in private practice.
A year later, we were finally able to make that dream a reality, and we’ve been in business together for two years. Our physical office is technically still part of Valley View in Sacramento, but because most of our cases are off-site at various ranches throughout the Napa Valley, we rarely cross paths during working hours.
I moved out of my apartment and into the condo Derek and I bought together last year. When he proposed six months ago, I was surprised but dutifully content to accept. That was, until I’d caught him screwing Tracy Molder in the back of my brand-new Range Rover three weeks ago. We each had our own vet tech to help with bigger cases, and Tracy was his. In more ways than one, apparently.
“So, how is Bumfuck Nowhere, Montana?” Ginger asks around a mouthful of something, and I can hear the muffled sound of a chip bag in the background.
With a cackle, I pointedly ask, “Are you stress eating?”
She huffs out a breath. “I’m done now. Baxter shit on the rug, and I stepped in it with bare feet. I swear, I could kill Peter for getting that freaking dog.”
My best friend isnotan animal person. Ironic, given the fact thatherbest friend is a veterinarian. But her three-year-old twin boys, Tate, and Jordan—who I live to spoil, especially now that she and Peter are divorced—adore that dog.
So, here we are, two newly single women, just trying to figure out our new normal. Her, with literal dog shit on her floor, and me, with a piece of shit ex-fiancé and a quickly imploding life.
“Ugh. Sounds super.” I chuckle at the image of Ginger hopping around on one foot, trying not to track dog excrement through her house. It feels good to laugh. A welcome distraction from my grief.
“Seriously, I almost threw up. I have to pick up my parents from the airport in an hour, and my house smells like a dog kennel.”
“Maybe that will keep your mother from needling you about the fact that you’re still single after a year? She’ll haveliteralshit to complain about.” I cackle, knowing Ginger’s mom is an even bigger clean freak than my best friend.
“I doubt that,” she huffs out. There’s a pause as she gulps down some water. “So? How weird is it being back?”
I unzip my suitcase, flip the top open, and stare down at what remains of my life. Allneatly packed into one giant suitcase. Ok, I’m being overly dramatic. I still have an entire condo of shit to go through, and to figure out what I’m doing about this whole fiasco with Derek. For now, I shove that thought away. I’ve got enough to deal with in Timber Forge at the moment.
“Definitely strange.” I start pulling things out from my suitcase and putting them into the dresser drawers. Funny that there isn’t a speck of dust in them. Given that this is the exact dresser I used as a kid—complete with the missing knob on the bottom drawer and the Garbage Pail Kids sticker stuck to the top—it strikes me as strange. Just another thing to add to the Twilight Zone that is currently my life.
