Page 15 of The Cabin

“Sure can, but the tow truck’s booked until Friday.”

My jaw drops. “Friday?” I shriek.

Bob just shrugs his shoulders. “Only tow truck in the county. The state hasn’t been keeping up with the roads these days, got lots and lots of people needing a tow.”

“Thanks, Bob. Put us on the schedule and give me a call when you’re ready.” Grayson’s smile shows all of his pearly white teeth.

I follow Grayson to the truck, mood plummeting by the second. This means I have to stay here for at least three more days.

Grayson maneuvers the truck right back toward where we came from.

I’m wracking my brain between bouts of moping, trying to think if I know anyone willing to drive four hours to come get me, four hours back, and then all over again when my car is ready. I don’t. Well this freaking sucks.

I avoid eye contact and offer zero acknowledgement that Grayson’s even in the car. He can play the hero, saving the damsel in distress all he wants. But I know the truth. With truth comes great power. Thankfully, I consider myself an expert social media stalker. It’s what I was spending almost all of my time doing all alone in my apartment. And mark my words, I’m gonna find Grayson’s wife and tell her everything. It’s what I wish someone would’ve done for me.

Very unfortunately, I have to break the silence. “Stop at my car on the way up so I can grab some things.”

“Yeah, of course. No problem.” Listen, buddy. I wouldn’t have cared if it was going to be a problem. You can kiss my ass. Actually, stay the hell away from my ass! You’ve done enough damage.

Eventually, we make it to the point where my car stabbed me in the back and he parks off to the side.

“Why is all your stuff in your car? Have you still not unpacked?” he questions, heaving a duffel bag into the bed of his truck.

“No, I was leaving this morning.”

“I thought you were staying for two weeks?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” I grunt, hauling myself back in the cab.

Five blood boiling minutes later, he pulls up in front of my cabin. It is infuriating being in the same space as him. It’s like having to sit next to the baby version of Brian.

“Is it because of –”

“Listen, Grayson, I’m just going to grab my stuff and get back in my cabin to hibernate for three days. You can get back to your own business. Take those flowers to yourwife.”I slam the door shut and fling my things on the porch as fast as I can.

Grayson, to my dismay, joins me, helping me get everything inside. He turns on a lantern “They’re not for her,” he murmurs, and I just stare at him. He brought the freaking flowers inside. Into my cabin. Flowers for his wife. What does he want, to borrow a freaking vase?

“I really don’t care.”

“They’re for you.” He holds them out to me. I am speechless. What does this guy not understand? My bewilderment has got to be written all over my face.

His voice drops low. “I signed divorce papers on my way up here Friday.” A flash of sympathy makes my stomach knot. Shit. “She hasn’t signed them yet, which is why I’ve been ignoring her calls. I didn’t mean to call her my wife, it just slipped. I mean, I guess legally she still is, but we’ve been separated for a while and I don’t care what a piece of paper says at this point.” His words come out gruff. God, I know that feeling. I’m about to be in year two of an official, all parties signed divorce, and I still know that feeling.

“I’m sorry,” I say lamely.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think I was some sleazy guy who doesn’t respect his wife. I’ve made a really bad first impression. First with the showers and now this. That’s why I went out this morning to get you flowers. I want to start over. We’re the only two people up here, and I meant it when I said it’d be nice to have someone to talk to.”

Do I want that? I mean, yeah. It’d be nice to experience companionship. It would be nice to connect with someone who understands what I’m doing up here. Why I’m such a mess. This entire post-divorce chapter of my life has been spent alone. Keeping everything bottled up and pretending things are okay. I think I’ve plowed my way over to the other extreme, throwing every single emotion out in the world before I have full context.

“I know I really freaked out yesterday. It’s just, um…” I take a deep breath. I’d never told anyone the reason for my divorce. Not my friends at the time, not any of my colleagues. Even my parents don’t know the truth. I had only ever told them I was getting a divorce. Never why. “My husband cheated on me. And it did a number on me. I am a complete and total mess. That’s why I came up here…to try and heal, or whatever. So, when I thought you had a wife, I just kinda lost it.” The words do not come easy, but they do feel freeing. At least a little.

“That’s why I came up here, too. To, yeah, I guess try to heal or…whatever.” I give him a small smile. “So… friends? Divorce buddies? Cabin Healer club members?” He holds out a hand for me to shake, and I find myself taking it.

“What about meditation gurus?” I joke.

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