Page 20 of Little Bird
“No,” Gunner says sharply. “Gabe will take you.”
“What?” I gasp. “I don’t have time! There’s a tree?—”
“You’ll take her,” he interrupts. “Good chance for the two of you to get reacquainted. And get some questions answered.”
He levels his eyes on me, and I shut my mouth. Because if Taryn is stubborn, my father is a fucking rock when he decides he wants something. He doesn’t like people who argue with him, and he hates disobedience.
Taryn and I used to dare each other to cross him, though, and that memory is written all over her face and in the curve of her lips. She looks at me and her eyes flash with laughter and a dare she doesn’t have to say out loud.
And my anger melts again.
Because I know that girl.
And if I’m being absolutely honest, I do want her back. I love the thought of her being here again. My skin is buzzing with the feel of her under my roof and the thought of what we might do together.
No matter how much it hurt the last time she left.
Gabe
As we drive to town, the only thing I can think is that I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to have Taryn sitting in the passenger seat, her face turned to the window and her shoulders tense. I don’t want to be looking at my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to say to her.
What I want is to be laughing with her about how unreasonable my father is and planning our next prank.
But that was the Gabe and Taryn from five years ago. I don’t know how we get back there.
I just know I want us to.
I ease off the gas a little bit as we hit the first stop sign in town and turn my mind to figuring out what we’re even doing here. My dad told me to bring Taryn to town. Get to know her again and get some answers. I don’t think that last one is going to happen. I don’t have time to pick her brain for details she doesn’t want to give. I just want to get back to the forest so I can haul that tree to the shop. Get back to work.
Keep living the life I built without the girl sitting next to me.
“Where do you need to go, anyhow?” I ask sharply. “More clothes?”
She pauses for a beat. “I have plenty of clothes, thanks,” she finally answers, mimicking my sarcasm. “But I have film I want to develop. And the house could use some more food. I don’t know how you two are surviving with what you have there, but it’s a scandal.”
My hackles immediately go up. “We survive just fine, actually. We’ve survived just fine for four years without anyone managing our pantry, and I’m guessing we’ll keep surviving once you’ve had your fill of the small-town life and go back to where you came from.”
I regret the words the moment they’re out of my mouth, but I don’t take them back.
“We’ll start with the grocery store, then,” I add. “It’s the only place you can get film developed.”
I pull through the stop sign and into town itself and can’t help the smile that touches my lips. I’ve lived here my whole life, but the charm of the place never gets old. Right now it’s dressed up for Christmas, which means it looks like a snow globe threw up on the place. We don’t have snow yet—not enough moisture in the air for a storm—but that hasn’t stopped Hawke’s Wood from decorating. Each light pole is wound with garland and lights, each sign decorated with freshly cut holly. The kids in town always go into the forest at the start of December to gather pine boughs, holly, and mistletoe for their decorations, and I can see bunches of mistletoe tied to several light poles at the exact height of some of the younger residents of the place. Snowmen and Santa Claus figurines made out of wood and cotton balls stand on the corners, and in the distance, a towering pine tree takes up most of the town square.
Even without the snow, it feels like we’re in a Christmas Village.
And I’m not the only one who notices.
“It looks exactly the same up here,” Taryn breathes, and when I turn, her eyes are shining with Christmas lights and what looks suspiciously like tears. She glances at me, her mouth caught in a smile. “Do the kids still gather their decorations from the forest?”
I answer the only way I can—with a matching grin. “Of course they do. They make a whole day of it, and the older ones fight to stay there all night.”
Her grin grows larger. “Remember that time we hid in a cave that we thought no one else knew about, thinking we’d get to stay out there all night?”
I huff. “Probably the stupidest idea we ever had, honestly. It was snowing so hard we would have frozen to death out there if they hadn’t found us.”
She giggles. “And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
I park in front of the market and she turns to face forward, then frowns. “What are the handprints?”
