Page 36 of When We Were Us
“A handful of posts on the old paddock need resetting,” I say around my third donut hole. “Pop and I did two last night. Got more to do today.”
My mother tsks. “I told your father not to be out there messing with things, but you know him. He’s going to do what he’s going to do.”
I do know. When he had come ambling out last night, I’d tried to get him to go inside. I had plenty of help for this kind of stuff if I needed it, but he’d told me he was fine and to mind my own business.
I’d almost told him the ranchismy business, but it was already hard enough for him to hand things over to me before he had been ready. I wasn’t about to tell the guy he couldn't hold up a post if he wanted to. So, I’d sent Jack home and Pop and I worked together for a couple of hours, doing what we’ve done since I was old enough to handle a shovel.
“Hudson is supposed to keep him occupied tonight so Jack and I can get it done without him feeling the need to help.” His back was not the same and the older he got, the less it took to put him down flat for a few days.
“You’re a good boy,” Mom says sweetly and smiles over at me.
All three of my sisters erupt into a chorus of “aww” and “how sweet,” and Nat reaches over to pinch my cheek. I swat at her hand with a grunt and a laugh. I throw up an arm to shield my face from her onslaught and yank my head out of her reach, knocking my hat off in the process.
I lean over and grab my hat, and when I sit back up, the bell over the door rings out as more customers stream through the door.
Nat climbs to her feet. “I guess I better go help Finn.” She gathers the couple of empty plates and mugs from the table and I glance over to see a short line forming at the counter.
“Don’t forget the toilet.” She points her finger at me as she heads to the counter, placing the dirty dishes in a basin on the back counter.
We sit and chat for a bit, and when I look up, there’s a steady number of customers coming now, the line growing longer. My eyes catch on the woman standing in the middle of the line, her phone pressed to her ear. I’d been talking to my family and hadn’t seen her come in.
She looks upset, possibly near tears. Wrenley turns back, glancing at the door as if she is considering leaving, and gives the woman behind her a weak smile. But she turns back to continue waiting.
I force my hat onto my head and clench my jaw. I’m unsure if my reaction is because there is literally no place in this town that she does not seem to be, or because I feel a ridiculous urge to get up and go check on her.
When she got that phone call in the hardware store yesterday, I’d been baiting her. It was an asshole thing to do, but I wanted her to be as rattled as I was. It had worked too. But watching her now, maybe her reaction wasn’t just to me holding her phone hostage. Maybe it was also about the person calling.
What was the name on the phone again? Dirk? David? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. There was this internal push and pull between my desire to justify my continued anger toward her and a screwed-up need to defend her. To protect her. It’s exhausting.
I quickly glance at my sisters and Mom. The women at the table with me have gone back to talking of vendor stalls and food trucks, seemingly oblivious to the arrival of the woman I cannot seem to escape.
My eyes track her movement to the counter, noticing the way she seems to sigh in relief as she pockets her phone, stepping up to the counter. Wren greets Finn with a weary smile, still looking worn down, but less so as soon as she sees her friend. I’m suddenly grateful to Finn, whose presence seems to make her feel a bit better.
Wren places her order and then steps aside to let the next customer in line place their order. I watch her as she pulls her phone back out and alternates between furiously tapping on the screen with two thumbs and chewing the thumbnail on her left hand as she waits. She’s not as upset as when she walked in, but I can see how tense she is from here, with her shoulders stiff and hiked closer to her ears than normal.
I drag my gaze back to the table and stand up. She seems slightly better now, and as much as the rest of my body is screaming at me to cross the shop and check on her, my mind tells me to leave her alone. It’s a frustrating combination and I don’t like it.
“Gonna check the toilet and then I’m heading out.” I plant a kiss on the top of Mom’s head and nod to my sisters. But it's like my body doesn’t obey my brain. Instead of heading in the direction of the bathroom, I automatically turn to where I know she’s waiting for her coffee and bump right into her.
She glances up from her phone, coffee now in hand. Her eyes move up my body in the same slow crawl as yesterday, but when she meets my gaze, I see defeat. It makes me want to kick the ass of whoever put that look on her face.
Red-rimmed brown eyes stare up at me, and I have the sudden urge to pull her against me. She looks like she might just let me. Her shoulders are sagging forward, and she looks like she’s wearing the weight of the world on her like a 100 lb. jacket.
I settle for a light touch to her elbow. If I wasn’t so in tune with her body language from watching her so closely the last few minutes, I probably would have missed the slight sway of her body toward me. I wouldn’t have noticed her slight intake of breath, or her eyes widening just the slightest bit.Whatever that phone call was, it has her rattled and I hate that I can’t fix it. That it's not my place to fix it.
“Wren? You ok?”
She blinks watery eyes at me, but it’s like she’s looking through me, not at me. Her bottom lip quivers and she bites down on it the slightest bit.
Then, seeming to realize all at once that she is just staring up at me, she shakes her head as if to clear it. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she catches a tear with her fingertip as she looks down before it spills over her bottom lash line.
My body goes hot and my scalp prickles because if this woman starts full-on crying, there is absolutely no way I am going to be able to stand here and not haul her against me. And given our interactions lately, it might just earn me a knee to the balls.
She lets out a ragged breath and glances up when my mother takes the opportunity to lean around me with a smile.
“Wrenley! It’s so nice to see you!” She stands and, completely oblivious to the look Wren and I share, pulls her into a big hug.
Read the room, Mom.
