Page 5 of Wild Return
With the gauges checked, we head down to the cellar.
The cool air makes my arms prickle, and I resist the urge to fold them around Sydney. We walk between lines of kegs as Sydney flicks out lights and checks packing notes. When we reach row C1, there’s a printed piece of paper stuck to the end of the row.
Small-Batch IPA - MISSING 1
Sydney pauses to glance at the sign, and I’m reminded why I’m here.
I stroll to the door that leads through the loading bay and check that it’s secure. When I turn around, Sydney’s waiting for me at the bottom of the steps.
“I usually lock the cellar door, but if you’re patrolling here, I guess you want it open.”
“Correct.”
I follow her up the stairs, my eyes drawn to her swaying plait. Four inches longer. Marking the time I wasted without her.
“Sydney…” I begin, not sure how to go on but needing to get through to her. “About yesterday…and before that.”
She spins around, and her eyes blaze in the dim light. “No.” She shakes her head. “We’re not doing this. There’s no need to drag up the past.”
“But I want to explain. You’re obviously still mad at me.”
She reaches the top of the stairs and grasps the heavy door in her hand.
“You did explain. And I get your reasons.”
I join her at the top of the stairs, and she slams the door closed. It shuts with a loud clang that reverberates through the building.
“We’re done here.”
She spins around and heads up the metal stairs to the offices. I jog to catch up to her, and we don’t say anything as we reach the office.
Hers is the only desk with the computer screen still on. While she shuts it down, I gather her purse from the floor and her jacket from the back of her chair. She looks at me, confused.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s dark. I’m giving you a lift home.”
She glares at me, then shakes her head softly. Her expression goes from anger to pity.
“I’m not that young girl anymore, Viking. I learned to take care of myself.”
“You always could take care of yourself, cupcake,” I reply softly.
Her eyes blaze. “Don’t call me that. You have no right to call me that.”
She snatches her jacket out of my hand and swipes her purse off me. She marches to the exit, and I lean on the edge of her desk as I watch her go. She heads into the night, and the door swings shut behind her.
I sit on the edge of her desk for so long that the office sensor lights turn off and plunge me into darkness.
I walked away from Sydney once; I’ll never do it again. However long it takes, I’ll convince her that I’m back for good.
3
SYDNEY
The aroma of fried garlic hits me as soon as I open the door to Nate’s place. I shrug off my coat and hang it on a hook in the corridor. The sounds of kids’ laughter comes from the kitchen, and I push open the door.
Dora holds a wooden spoon in the air as she marches around the kitchen island with Maisie trailing behind.
