13. Abbie
I have to go back.
That knowledge is just as horrible now as it was before, though for an entirely different reason. I’m not looking forward to confronting my mother, but I’m steeled myself. Readied myself.
I’m not ready to let go of Reed.
He’s been quiet all morning. First helping me pack the car. Then offering to drive when I looked doubtfully at the slushy, muddy road. So he drove while I watched him. Memorizing his profile. Wishing that I’d sketched him. Hoping my memory will be good enough.
Praying I won’t need to rely on my memory.
But he hasn’t said anything about the future yet. Not even a hint. And this drive won’t even last the hours until we reach the city, because his truck is at his dad’s lodge somewhere nearby.
Then there it is. A sprawling log house—empty and shuttered. The new family gathering apparently didn’t last through New Year’s. I wonder if Reed’s dad ever found out about the “Oops.” Then realize I don’t really care.
Because we’re stopping next to his truck. Reed’s jaw is set as he puts the car into park. Hot Biscuit Slim yowls angrily from his carrier.
“We’re here,” he says, and gets out of the car.
Blindsiding me. I thought there’d be at least a kiss. Something. But I can’t joke. Numbly I get out of the passenger side while he grabs his pack from the back.
I’m still standing there, between my car and his truck, as Reed comes around to his vehicle’s door. He looks down at me, and I’ve gotten good at reading his face. But I can’t read it now.
“Thanks for driving.” I can barely get it out.
His nod is abrupt. As if he just wants to get the hell out of here. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
I’m not going to cry. “Of course.”
A muscle in his jaw works and he looks away. “You going straight home? Having your confrontation right away?”
“Yes. It’s best to just get the first fight over with.”
He nods, still not looking at me. “Well, if you get there and you’re not ready yet, you’re always welcome to escape at my place.”
“No,” I say, and something happens to his face. Something I’ve seen before—that first night. When he saw the blood on his fingers. The almost stunned realization of an injury.
Because he thinks I won’t come to him.
The ache in my chest suddenly eases. “I mean, I will do it today. I’ll stand up for myself. Establish boundaries. That’ll be today.”
“There’s no doubt you can.” His throat works. “You’re strong as hell, Abbie girl.”
I exhale a shuddering breath and step closer. “But is the invitation open if I need an escape over these next few months? This cabin is a little far away.”
His gaze shoots to mine. “That invitation is always open.” He hesitates. “So we’re friends, then?”
“Frenemies.”
“That’s the worse fucking word,” he says, but he’s grinning.
“The best words are the ones you understand perfectly, and frenemies is very clear in its meaning. Plus, it’s fun. Oh! Funemies?”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Is that more accurate in our case?”
“We could spend more time finding out.”
He goes still, watching me. “More time? All right, then. I’ll be happy with any time, if it means I see you again.”
“Maybe Valentine’s? I’d like to have the best one ever. I’d need you for that.”
“Yeah?” He comes closer. “I can do that.”
“So it’s a date. But it’s about six weeks away. What about?—”
“President’s Day?”
“Or Twelfth Night.”
His brow furrows. “When the hell is Twelfth Night?”
“January fifth, I think.”
“I’ve never celebrated it.”
“We have celebrated it. With condoms. The Twelve Days of Christmas song is actually about that.”
“We should definitely celebrate Twelfth Night properly, then. With the whole song.”
“We can do that.” My heart is practically dancing within my chest. “What are you doing tomorrow? January second is a good day. It can be the best January second ever.”
“With you, Abbie, I have a feeling that every damn day will be the best ever.”
My eyes suddenly burn with tears. “I have the same feeling.”
“Good.” His hand cups my face. “Do you want me to follow you home? Help you unload…and be there when you set those boundaries?”
“No,” I say, “though I wish I could say yes. But I know too well how the argument will devolve into being about you and then my dad instead of focusing on her lies. And honestly, it’s not even calling her out that I dread. It’s what will come after.”
What I know will come after. When she’ll try every angle to wear me down. First telling me that I’m wrong. That you lied to me. That she never actually said your dad stole it for nothing. And then she’ll lay on the guilt. Beyond that…I don’t know. We never got past the guilt, because that was when I would cave.
“Then come to my place after. Bring Hot Biscuit Slim.”
“My little hideout at your place.” I laugh a little. “Maybe I won’t even unload my car.”
“Either way. I won’t go in, but I’ll follow you home. The roads are icy.”
He bends to kiss me, and it’s the sweetest kiss yet. Then he turns toward his truck.
A second later, he turns back again. “It might be too soon, but I do want you to. I want you to fall in love with me.”
“All right.” My heart is thundering. “It’s what I want you to do, too. More than anything.”
He grins. “All right, then. We’ll figure out all the components of love. And we’ll piss off our families while we do it.”
I would laugh, but I can’t mistake his concern. “You’re worried about your dad?”
“I’m done with my dad. I’m more worried about you. You’re living with them now, even if not for long. I don’t want them saying hurtful shit on my account.”
“I’ll be all right.” Anything they say against Reed will likely only make me more determined. Nothing they could do or say would make me end this. Only he could.
“I’ll be behind you all the way home. I won’t go in. But I’ll wait outside until you’re done with that first fight. If you want me to look after Hot Biscuit Slim while you’re in there, I’ll look after him. If you’re not up to driving after, I’ll drive you. If you need anything, I’ll be there to help you. You’re not alone. Even if want to do this by yourself, not alone. All right?”
I nod. He kisses me again, and I watch him walk to his truck through a blur of tears. He waits, watching as I get into my car. Making sure that I’m all right. Letting me know I’m not alone.
I didn’t open a single Christmas present this year. But I still got everything I need.
the end