Page 14 of Ember Meadow
Woah, Katie. Do not go there,I scold myself. I’ve only had a few drinks, but they’re going to my head already.
“Listen, I think I’m going to get going. I’ve got an early day tomorrow, I should get back to my hotel,” I say to Dean as politely as I can after a few more minutes of listening to the band.
“Right on,” Dean says with a genuine smile. I breathe a sigh of relief. Apparently the spark wasn’t there for him either. “Can I walk you outside?”
“Sure,” I say thankfully. I’ll miss Dean, what a nice guy. He reaches for my hand to walk me out, and I take it, threading my fingers through his. We are almost to the door when I bump into a rock hard shoulder.
“Oh excuse me–” I start, looking up only to bump right into none other than Miles Autry. His neutral expression melts right back into anger as he looks down at me and nods politely.
“Sorry man,” Dean says from ahead of me. Miles doesn’t say a word to either of us, but his gaze slides over to Dean. If possible, he looks even angrier than usual, towering over Dean. Dean doesn’t seem to notice, he is already walking ahead pulling on my hand.
“Kay bye,” I mumble to Miles sarcastically as I turn away.
We stumble out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, noticing the long line that has formed outside of the entrance. I guess it’s lucky I got here when I did.
“It was nice dancing with you tonight, Katie. Thanks for making me laugh,” Dean says, pulling me into a side hug as we walk down towards the Cascade Inn.
“It was a good time for sure. I needed it, I think,” I nod.
We say our goodbyes outside of my hotel and I head back up to my room. As I close the door, I lean back against it and fall to the floor. Just like breakfast this morning, if I just remove Miles from the equation, I had a great time. But, I can’t. He was there, glaring at me. Judging me, I’m sure.
I send Hazel a quick text letting her know I got back okay and crawl into bed. Tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully a Miles-less day. And yet, despite all that he’s done today, Miles’s smiling face four years ago is the last thing I see in my mind before I drift off to sleep.
Chapter 5
I Don’t Care
Sun has just startedto peek through the curtains of my window when the worst sound in the world wakes me up. Groaning, I reach over to stop my alarm.
It’s Monday. My first day of work at the Old Cabin. And I need to get an early start to stay motivated. I pull on my leggings and sports bra, throw my hair up into a ponytail and head out the door for a quick run, Shania Twain blaring through my headphones.
The quiet, empty streets swallow me up as I jog through town. A few coffee shops and cafes are awake, with the smell of coffee beans wafting out of windows cracked open to let in the morning mountain breeze. On the other hand, bars and nighttime restaurants are eerily still, chairs stacked on tables, neon lights switched off.
Aunt Millie and I used to go for runs most weekday mornings when I was a teenager. We’d run around her small neighborhood, on the shore of Bear Lake, on trails through the mountains. I remember thinking that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up. Running care-free through the mountains every morning, and coming home to a fresh pot of coffee. It sounded like a dream.
Now, I do that almost every day.
My aunt passed a lot of things down to me in the years I grew up in Juniper Ridge. Her love of chips and salsa, all of her many hobbies like crocheting and yoga, and her infinite wisdom on relationships. I’ve cried and sniffled through many a heartbreak on her couch with a bowl of ice cream, listening to her recount stories from her younger days.
Once, when I was seventeen and had just lost my first love, Aunt Millie picked me up from my bed, pushed me into her car, and drove me out to the far end of the lake. She marched me down the beach until we were a ways out from anything or anyone else and picked up a rock.
“Here,” she said, “Write his name on this.” I took the sharpie from her hand and did what she told me without a protest, wiping the tears off of my face.
“Okay. Now on the count of three, I want you to throw that rock out as far as you can. Take all those sad, angry feelings and throw them out with the rock too. Once it sinks to the bottom of the lake, it’s over. No more crying over a boy who isn’t giving you two thoughts.”
I threw the rock, and surprisingly, it really did make me feel better. Whenever I thought about him afterwards, I remembered standing on that beach throwing all thoughts of him into the water to sink forever. We made it into a tradition, heading out to the lake everytime I had a bad breakup, a crush that didn’t reciprocate my feelings, or even a really tough test in school I got a bad grade on.
Now, I look back on all of the little ways Aunt Millie tried to make my life a little bit easier and see someone who was thrust into parenthood for a kid that wasn’t hers, making the best of the situation. But back then, she was a goddess. There’s no one I love and respect more than my Aunt Millie.
She shaped me.
After my morning run (and a stop into a coffee house, naturally), I head up the road to the ranch cabin with all of my bags packed in the back seat and get a sense of deja vu. Hopefully this time, no angry cowboys come and yell at me when I get out of the car. The mountains are glowing with morning light, dew on every blade of grass.
I turn down the short dirt road from the main ranch road to the cabin, and immediately slam on the brakes. Black, mooing blobs speckle the land all around the cabin, including on the road directly in front of me.
Cows.
Everywhere.
