Chapter 12
Russell
Wren and I stand outside in the small area we cleared right under the roof overhang, both of us squinting against the bright sun and its reflection off the glittering snow.
I glance at him beside me and Wren gives a nod in response.
The magpie I’m cradling in a towel in my hands stirs and complains loudly.
It really is time. Time for it to be free again.
“Good luck, little fella,” I say before releasing my grip.
We both watch as it soars toward the sky, wings fluttering wildly. It goes up, then glides down dramatically as if in celebration, and swiftly disappears among the trees, leaving nothing but a few small feathers drifting down behind it.
That and the feathery, dusty mess I made trying to catch it inside the house. And a few spots I still need to wash bird shit out of, like the back of the couch…
Yeah, cleaning up after it isn’t going to be fun.
Relief and worry swirl within me. I hope the little thing will have a good, long life. It’s back where it belongs. Wild and free, as it should be.
I look down, letting my eyes fall on Wren, who absentmindedly scans the forest, and I don’t feel the same relief. Instead, my chest tightens and the corners of my mouth fall. Something inside me stirs with unease.
I wish I could keep him here.
I wish I could trap him like that bird and take care of him, but it wouldn’t be right, just like it wouldn’t be right to keep that wild animal locked up.
Wren needs to be set free just the same.
Staying here would only bring him pain. After everything he’s gone through in this place, how could he ever be happy here?
Maybe I’m just too lonely, and that’s all there is to these selfish thoughts and urges.
He meets my gaze, smiling faintly. His hair glistens like molten gold in the sunlight. “What?”
“Nothin’,” I lie. “Was wonderin’ if I should head to the Greensons’ house now or cook something first.”
“I’ll come with you.”
I shake my head. “No. They don’t live that far, but the walk there won’t be exactly easy with the snow still so high, so—”
“What if you slip or fall somewhere and get hurt?” His brows knit together. I almost laugh at his glare of concern. It’s adorable. “You shouldn’t be out there alone,” he adds.
A sensation that I rarely ever experience tickles at the bottom of my stomach.
Some primal, base sense of comfort that makes me feel all gooey.
Your alpha insists on protecting you, it says.
Heats triggered by other people’s pheromones are always shorter than the natural ones, but there might still be some hormonal insanity happening inside me.
I shift on my feet, hands resting on my hips with unease. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I’ll go straight there and return. Nothin’ will happen.”
Wren looks away briefly, as if he’s coming up with alternatives, before facing me again, now seeming even more determined.
The line between his brows becomes deeper.
“I grew up around here too, remember? So I know nature can be dangerous. Besides, I really need to call Dex to tell her what’s going on.
I can’t wait for when the tow truck might get here, or even longer before the road to Ridgelake might be safe to drive on. ”
I completely forgot about his roommate. I guess he has a point there.
“You’ve got her number?”
He nods. “Wrote it down before my phone died.”
Jonah might not be happy about a strange alpha who’s coming off his rut near his wife, but I suppose the situation is dire enough. He’ll have to understand.
“Okay. Let me fix somethin’ to eat before we go. You’ll need energy for the trek.”
I turn around with a quick stretch, but a tingling discomfort shooting through my body makes me twitch. My lower back and ass are still sore, understandably. We did a lot of crazy things yesterday…
In my peripheral vision, I see Wren smirk in a way that sends heat into my cheeks. He almost looks like he’s proud of being the one who did that to me, and that puts a stupid smile on my face, too.
I’m going to miss this.
Sighing, I shake my head and order myself to ignore those silly thoughts.
The hike turns out to be a pretty good idea.
I hadn’t noticed how stifling it was to be locked up inside until we’re walking through the snow. The sun shines above us, mild wind blows against my cheeks, and oh, the fresh air…
Even though there’s not much to see besides the mountains of white we need to push through, the forest is as lively as ever. Almost like there was no blizzard at all. We spot deer marks in the snow, and hear plenty of birds chirping as they fly about.
“I forgot how peaceful nature could be,” Wren muses, sounding all whimsical as he cranes his head back to study the trees reaching toward the sky.
“Yeah. I missed it loads whenever I was living on the military bases. They were usually near large cities. No downtown park can come close to this.”
“And I feel fancy when I manage to keep a houseplant alive for a few months,” Wren says with a snortle and shows his teeth in a charming, easygoing smile.
I really don’t know what to do with myself when he smiles like that.
I look ahead, focusing on lifting one leg after the other instead of getting distracted by how damn beautiful he is.
It’s that much clearer now that he’s not shrouded in pain and worry.
His light features—those long blond lashes, pale skin, and bright eyes—stand out so beautifully when the sun shines on him.
He looks much livelier and not as gaunt, even though his cheekbones and jaw are so sharp, practically bony.
The scent of licorice still radiates out of him, not as strong as the past two days, but strong enough to be there, always at the forefront of my senses.
You weak-hearted fool. You can’t keep living in this delusion.
“What do you…plan to do when you return to the city?” I ask, nervously fidgeting my hands in my coat pockets.
I hear his breath pause. Wren slows his step before catching up with me again.
“Get my life together, I think.” He sighs.
“Shit, I mean, I’ve got to. I can’t…carry on like this.
This has been such a weirdly eye-opening experience.
I just… I just want to get better. For real this time. Really give it my all, you know?”
Thinking that maybe I had a part in that warms me up from within. “I support that,” I announce, concealing nothing of my pride. Wren smiles at me.
“I’ll find a meeting as soon as I can and…
try therapy again, I guess,” he says, not sounding very thrilled about it.
“Then I just need to make it through each day without relapsing. No big deal,” he mutters, snorting bitterly.
“Usually, the first three to four months after getting clean are the hardest for me. I don’t know why, it’s just this weird limit I have.
Once I get past that hurdle, being sober starts feeling a lot easier.
Not as many daily internal arguments and insane cravings. For the most part, anyway.”
“I know you can do it. And I’m not just saying that.”
Wren meets my gaze, his expression soft and, for once, genuinely relaxed. Hopeful, even. He nods, smiling as he turns his head to watch his steps while sinking into the large, warm jacket I got him. It’s still pretty darn cold.
“That’s the Greensons’ house.” I point to the wooden cabin—a lot smaller than the store, but newly built and solid at first glance—a few yards ahead. The road leading to it has been shoveled. Seems like Wren and I weren’t the only ones who spent half the day yesterday clearing snow.
I hold my breath when Wren suddenly stops, putting his hand in front of me.
I follow the direction of where he’s looking and see a pair of snowshoe hares. They run onto the cleared path, binkying across it playfully. Exhaling quietly and trying not to make a sound, I quickly share a look with Wren. He is watching them with such pure, innocent joy on his face…
Both of the hares are gorgeous. They blend in with the snow almost perfectly, aside from their beady black eyes and brown spots around their mouths and ears.
They zoom past each other, hopping and chasing before excitedly shaking their little tails in the air as they pounce.
Seems they’re just having fun and enjoying the sunny morning without a care in the world.
With a content smile, I’m reminded of the moment from my final deployment. The day I actually thought I might not make it out.
Explosions reverberated all around me, my ears rang and my heart pounded like crazy as I, the last of my squad, hid in a shack that was no doubt going to get leveled with one lucky shot.
But then I looked up, and the entire world slowed once I spotted two butterflies dancing peacefully in the air.
Floating and spinning together in the most fluid, beautiful way, all the while sunlit dust motes swirled around them.
This was the moment I realized I didn’t want to stay in the army, and that following orders and having my choices made for me was no longer worth it. I wanted to come back here and focus on life, on creating and helping. Not destruction, in one form or another.
Wren still studies the hares, so I gently take his hand. He snaps his attention to me, lips parted. “Remember small moments like these when you feel like givin’ up,” I whisper.
Unfortunately, I think my words or the rustle of my coat make the hares notice us, and they dart away into a burrow in the snow.
Something’s clearly happening inside Wren. His throat bobs with a gulp before he narrows his eyes and nods. All I can hope for is that when he recalls this memory, I’m a part of it.
“You’re cold. Come on, we’re almost there,” I say and quickly let go of him. The cabin is right there. We’ll reach it in less than a minute.