Page 11 of A Runaway in Winter
“I knew the articles were going to be bad, but the comments…”
“Pen.”
“And you just let me sleep in and wander around talking about coffee and mugs you lied about breaking when my world is literally crumbling around me!”
“Really?” I say more defensively than I mean. “What was I supposed to do? Rip you out of bed and shove my phone in your face? It’s bullshit, Pen. People are nasty and they’re gonna talk about you and?—”
“That doesn’t make it better, Lake! I hurt Carter and now I’m here…”
“You hurthim?What about all the times he hurt you? What about the times you called me damn near tears because he wasstressedand made you feel like shit? You ran out on your wedding, but stop trying to minimize his role in all this.”
“You don’t get to lecture me about my relationship while you’ve been over here—what?—pining for me? Instead of manning up and?—”
“Don’t.” My voice is low and dangerous sounding even to my own ears. “I’ll own my piece, but don’t act like I was supposed to put you in that position when you had already chosen him. You made your choice, and look how well that turned out.”
She gasps, her eyes welling with angry tears. “Fuck you, Lake.” The words are like a knife to the heart. In the years we’ve been friends, we’ve never spoken to each other like this, but I can’t be sorry and I have a feeling right now neither is she. Tossing my phone on the island, she backs away toward the guest room.
She doesn’t say anything and neither do I before she disappears from sight.
Fuck me, indeed.
7
PEN
“Hey Sweetie.” Wren’s voice is a gentle coo as she pushes open the bedroom door without knocking. I didn’t expect her to; Lake undoubtedly called in reinforcements and she drew the short straw. “I brought coffee, donuts, and gossip.”
Peeking one eye open, I push up on my elbow as she shuts the door behind her. “Is the gossip about me?” It would make sense—the wedding wasn’t even a week ago.
I knew things would be said about me leaving Carter, but I was wholly unprepared for the articles.Small-Town Sweetheart Turned Gold Digger Leaves Fiancé at Altar…
I’d skimmed that one. The thought that anyone would claim me as a gold digger was laughable. But I’d stumbled into a world where people were more interested in entertainment than honesty.
And the comments.
I’d been horrified and hurt and I’d taken it all out on the one person who’d done nothing but show me kindness.
Fighting with Lake had been worse than all the comments in all the articles combined. They don’t know me, but he does.
And he’d called me out and I’d walked away with a well-placedfuck you.
“God, no, we’ll talk about you later.”
Crawling onto the bed, she finds a spot and sits with her legs crossed as she hands me a cup and the white paper bag. Sitting up, I’m thankful I forced myself into the shower last night so I’m not quite the swamp monster I was before.
“Thanks for this,” I tell her as I take a sip and enjoy my favorite gingerbread flavor. “I’m sure Lake was begging someone to come drag me out of bed,” I say with a deprecating laugh.
Wren’s eyebrows creep up her forehead as she pulls a glazed donut from the bag. “Um, no. This is the first day he’s allowed anyone—me—to come. He’s had this place on lockdown.”
I frown. “Why?”
She blinks and then blinks again. “Because he loves you and wants to protect you?” It’s a question but it’s not.
Not really.
“I’m pretty sure he’s still mad at me.”
I’d barely seen him in the four days since my wedding. Three days since our fight in the kitchen. Part of it was on me; I’d hidden away in this room, trying desperately to figure out where to go from here. Despite not wanting to return to Bozeman, my life still exists there and I need closure, from all of it.
