Chapter 14
Russell
I stand a few steps away from the tow truck, hands in my pockets, while Andy Johnson and Wren circle his car.
Andy made quick work of pulling it back up onto the road.
Apparently, there’s no serious damage besides a slightly dented front bumper, side mirror, and bent license plate.
Which means that Wren is free to drive home.
And I hate that. I hate how much I hate that.
I hate how damn needy I feel. I want to pull him close to me and tell him to stay. Order him. Beg him. All day I’ve been secretly wishing that the car would slide further down the hill or that Andy wouldn’t make it here at all.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I know he can’t stay. Rationally, it makes no sense. None of what we’ve gone through makes any sense. But even Wren looks sad, glancing at me from his car, all the brightness I’ve seen in him these last few days completely muted.
Andy comes up to him, shaking his hand for goodbye. The other two younger guys who work with him are already waiting inside his truck. They’re busy all over the mountain, from what they said, so we’re lucky they even turned up and pulled Wren’s car out before it gets dark.
“Thanks a lot,” Wren says.
I approach them. “I really appreciate you moving that tree out of the way for me,” I add, giving Andy an appreciative nod. I’ll need to clear and cut so the delivery trucks can get here, but at least Andy managed to drag it to the side, so it’s not smack in the middle of the road.
“No trouble,” he says before jumping into his truck and driving away.
Wren and I are left outside in silence. Standing. Waiting. Stalling…
The snow has melted a lot today, but there’s still plenty of it. I try to burn his face into my memory with that magical white backdrop and the way the sun reflects on his hair.
Like he’s as unwilling to take the last step as I am, Wren slowly comes up to me, his eyes darting everywhere but to where he could meet mine.
“Thanks again for lending me the money for this,” he says. “I didn’t exactly expect I’d need enough cash to pay for a tow truck, so…I’ll make a transfer as soon as I get to a bank.”
I shake my head with a tired chuckle. “I said it’s fine, Wren.”
He frowns, but only for a moment. “You’ve done enough for me already.”
I study Wren’s boots as he inches closer. His shoe size looks silly compared to mine. He’s wearing his normal clothes again, the tight, city-winter gear completely unfit for the conditions around here. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make him look sexy, though.
My stomach twists painfully as I will myself to look up and face him.
Dearest dualis, this is ridiculous.
“You, umm, have the number, yeah?” I ask, my voice weaker than I’d like. Wren nods and pulls out the folded piece of paper that I wrote my landline number on.
“And you have mine.”
“Yep.”
Silence again.
He shifts on his feet and exhales, sending out his licorice scent toward me. “Hopefully, the phone line gets repaired soon. Then we can…keep in touch.”
Why is this so awkward? Not in an annoying way, but uneasy. Painful.
I nod, but nothing about it makes me feel better. I’ve been here before, with childhood friends who moved off the mountain and promised to send letters but never did. Or who sent a few, but stopped replying. I know what this is.
These things never last. Not when Wren returns to the city where people are either constantly connected through the internet in one way or another, or forget about each other completely.
Out of sight, out of mind. There are so many things to capture his attention.
He’ll forget, I know he will, and I can’t even be angry at him for it.
I want him to be happy, to work hard on himself like he said he wants to. Deep down, I know that it means embracing that life, and I have this terrible hunch telling me that I, all the way out here, have no part in it.
“Maybe I can send a letter from time to time, too. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I wrote a letter,” he says with an awkward laugh and pushes his hair back. I want to touch it. To rake my hand through it and take in his scent.
“Yeah. You’ve got my address.” I sound like some depressed teenager, so I snap myself out of it with a deep inhale and a sharp blink.
These are my final moments with him. I don’t want his last impression of me to be this.
That’s not me. “I…I really hope you keep doin’ well,” I say in a more lively tone, looking him in the eye with the most genuine smile I can muster.
“I wish you all the best, Wren. You deserve that.”
He looks down shyly—gods, it’s adorable—before smirking. “Maybe I can write a letter explaining how much this all meant to me after some time processing it. I… I’m so grateful, Rus. For all you’ve done for me.”
I want to kiss him goodbye. One last kiss that conveys everything: all the burning passion and longing and mind-boggling confusion that’s mixing inside me.
But that fairytale is over.
The storm is gone, and the skies are clear.
What happened was the sort of thing we’ll both remember for the rest of our lives.
A singular moment in time that could never be explained or replicated.
A magical experience that will never stop being that.
But outside of it, we’re still strangers.
Just two men—a shop owner and a grieving son trying to get his life together.
So I pull him in for a hug. That’s appropriate enough, isn’t it?
I feel Wren relax into me, his breath trembling as he does. His heart pounds against my chest, and I close my eyes, taking in that scent and that sensation one last time.
When we step away from each other, I can tell we’ve both accepted the finality.
There’s pain in his eyes that he tries to hide, almost like the very first time I saw him. At least now, that darkness is gone. It’s only sadness. Ordinary, natural, endurable. He’ll probably get over it in a few days.
I’m not sure I will.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep telling myself I’m happy up here all by myself anymore after this, like I have been these past years.
Clearing my throat before speaking, I fix my posture. “Be careful. The driving conditions still aren’t great.”
Wren snorts. “Oh, I will. Trust me,” he says, dry sarcasm overflowing in his words. He turns toward his car.
I put my hands back into my pockets and hunch into my winter jacket. Usually, I don’t get cold, but right now my entire body shivers all the way to my bones.
Wren gets in and starts the engine. Andy made sure the battery had enough juice after he pulled it out, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t completely dead.
For all intents and purposes, the car is fit to drive, and yet there’s a horrible feeling at the bottom of my stomach telling me I shouldn’t let him go or something bad will happen.
“Goodbye, Russell,” Wren says with an uneasy expression on his face.
I want to lean into the open window and kiss him—imagining how that gesture would make him change his mind, set his entire life aside, and stay here with me—but I grit my teeth instead and smile. “Goodbye, Wren.”
He just stares at me for a moment, as if he wants to say something, as if he’s getting ready to, before dragging his eyes away and rolling up the window. I step back slowly, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in my throat, and watch him drive off.
The car goes behind the bend, and then it pokes between the trees a few times before it disappears completely.
Finally alone and free to express my stupid, foolish emotions, I rub my face and look down at my trembling hands.
It feels as if I’ve lost something important.
I close my eyes and shake my head. I need to stop…this. It’s over.
The idea of coming back into the quiet, still house almost frightens me.
I remember the morning when I woke up with Wren sleeping peacefully in the bed, looking snug as a bug, with the magpie excitedly flying around the room, and everything felt…
serene. Domestic. Something I didn’t even know I wanted.
Maybe that’s what I feel like I lost. A way of life I never knew I desired and was so comforted by.
Now it’s gone. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
Slowly, I head inside, my lips pressed together in a flat line.
I learned a long time ago to not let myself be weighted down by what I can’t control.
And if I spend the evening staring at the fire and listening to all the melancholy songs in my collection, replaying in my mind every minute I had with Wren, that’s nobody’s business but my own.
?
As I open my eyes, I get blinded by the sun shining above me. With a groan, I roll to my side, my head feeling strangely light.
Where am I?
I look down and notice I’m wearing nothing but swim trunks.
That would make sense, considering I hear the sound of water splashing. Before I can sit up to see where it’s coming from, someone runs in front of me, blocking the sun with their body.
“Wake up, Sleepyhead!”
Wren?
I brush my hand over my face before looking up at him with a questioning frown.
“Oh. I…fell asleep?”
I’m so confused. As I glance around, I quickly realize we’re at Ridgenton Lake. I…haven’t been here in ages. The sheer beauty of it is still burned into my mind, though. Everything’s exactly the same as when I used to come here with my parents when I was little.
Living on the other side of the mountain, we’d only ever visit on special occasions. Mostly in summer. I loved every single time we did. The lake spreads for what feels like miles, and the backdrop of the forests and the Silverpine Mountain above is like an image from a postcard.
I finish admiring the scenery, so I shift my gaze to Wren. Before I meet his face, I realize he’s standing in front of me, completely naked.
Gasping, I dart my eyes up. “There are people around! Kids!”