Chapter 15
About a Wolf Who Loves the Moon
Aria
“What the…” Someone’s pinching my leg. I pull a pillow over my head and kick. Whoever it is needs to fuck right off.
“Your room stinks like a caveman’s den. When did you last—wait, are those baked beans in the can?” Another pinch. “And you call me a bum, Aria? Me?”
Blinking, I open my eyes. Knox is standing next to my bed in checked capri pants and dark-brown leather ankle boots; my laptop is in his hand, which he is using to tap against my forehead.
I reach out my arm and wave my hand through the air. “Go away.”
That’s the last thing on his mind. He sits down next to me instead and pushes against my shoulder until I turn over onto my back like a sack of potatoes. Then he just stares.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Something’s going on in here, that’s for sure. Something weird.”
“Huh?”
“Aria, you’re wearing Wyatt’s hoodie.”
With a sigh, I roll onto my side. “That doesn’t mean anything.
” On my nightstand I discover the rest of the lemon cake that I didn’t manage to polish off last night.
One of the biggest advantages of running a B&B is having pastries around whenever my head tells me I need them.
Every day at coffee time, I serve up something from Patricia’s Pastry Shop for the guests and usually grab the leftovers.
I reach for the plate, fill my mouth with the last bit of cake, and am as happy as can be, for sugar is indeed happiness for me.
“What are you doing?” Knox asks, speechless.
“I’m eating cake.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“Because someone somewhere on this earth is celebrating their birthday, and I want to celebrate along with them.”
“You just woke up.”
“I don’t get the problem.”
Outside, the bell tower is ringing. I almost swallow the wrong way. There isn’t a crumb left when I put the plate back down. I quickly stand up and slip into my blue Birkenstocks. “What time is it?”
“Just about eight.” Knox casts a glance at my notes, which are still strewn about my bed, most of them completely crumpled up after my having slept on them.
There’s whipped cream on my most important folder.
Knox picks up a piece of paper with my drawing of the cervical vertebrae and their trigger points.
The terms were still in my head yesterday.
Levator scapulae. Sternocleidomastoid. Musculi scaleni. Digastricus.
“You pull an all-nighter yesterday or something?”
I walk into the adjoining bathroom to change. “Yep,” I call back. “But it didn’t go too well.” I quickly give myself a French braid and put on mascara. “Do you know if Mom’s already downstairs?”
“Yeah. She made breakfast for all the guests.”
“Shit. I wanted to take care of that.”
“You’re chaos on two legs.”
“Nothing new, huh?” I toss my mascara back into my cosmetics bag and brush my teeth in double time.
When I come back into my bedroom, I find Knox looking at the picture of Harper and me on the nightstand.
I quickly rummage about in my drawer and pull out two mismatched socks.
Winnie-the-Pooh for my left foot, a striped sock with holes for my right.
My toenail is poking out. I’m happy for it. Freedom’s important.
“What are you doing here?”
Knox points to my laptop. “Just so you don’t wake me up again.”
“Just put your phone on silent.”
Instead of responding, his eyes dart to Wyatt’s sweatshirt, which I throw onto my bed along with my short pajama bottoms. “Can you tell me what that’s all about?”
“No.”
“Aria…” There is so much of everything I don’t want to hear in his tone. Aria, be careful. Aria, you’ve suffered enough. Aria, leave it alone. Aria, no.
No, no, no.
“No worries,” I say. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just a stupid coincidence.”
Knox dramatically spreads his arms. “Oh, right.” He palms his forehead. “How could I be so dumb? Your ex’s—that is, my best friend’s—sweatshirt just happened to be lying in your mailbox, and you just happened to have nothing else to wear.”
“Exactly. So, Knox, take off. I’ve got to get to work.”
“You going to the soup event later?”
I close the door to my room and walk down the hall next to him. The thick carpet swallows up our steps.
“Of course. William would hate me if I skipped out.”
“You think?”
“Don’t tell me you were considering not going!”
Knox groans. “Just once! As if that’d be so bad. I’ve been there Every. Single. Year.”
“It’s William, Knox. Of course that’d be bad. He’d still be holding it against you when you had three grown children.”
“Yeah. Paisley also said we had to go.”
“Then listen to your girlfriend. She’s a bright girl.”
I bring him to the door. Knox opens it, but before going, he leans against the frame and raises his eyebrows. “You know that in less than ten seconds I’m going to call Wyatt and ask him what’s with the sweatshirt, right?”
“I know.”
“And you’re sticking with the stupid coincidence line?”
For a moment I drift back to yesterday. To the moment in the players’ hallway when Wyatt came up to me and put his lips on mine.
For two long years I surrendered to the memories of what those moments used to feel like.
But two long years couldn’t prepare me for what it would feel like again.
The truth is that I didn’t want it to end.
I didn’t want it to end, and pushing him away was the toughest thing I’ve ever done. Letting him go didn’t feel right.
I tried not to think about it anymore. I tried to convince myself that that moment never happened. But of course that’s ridiculous. I mean, when something happens, it happens, and you know it. It’s pretty simple.
It made everything more complicated. I only made it through the whole time without Wyatt by convincing myself that he didn’t love me anymore. That was easier. I mean, why else would he have cheated on me?
But yesterday…
I looked into his eyes. They were full of longing and fear, of sadness and exhaustion. But most of all, heavenly desire. And yet, there was just one single question in my mind.
Why?
Wyatt Lopez, why won’t you let me go?
You are the one who did this.
You are the one who destroyed everything we had.
You alone.
And now you’re kissing me, with love in your eyes, with longing in your heart, as if you could just do that?
I take a deep breath and meet Knox’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter because it’s over. Whatever he tells you doesn’t mean anything.”
He looks at me quizzically. It looks like he wants to say something.
With a sigh, he puts his hand on the back of his neck and rubs his closely cropped hair, looks up at the ceiling, and closes his eyes.
Then he nods. He puts a hand on my shoulder before turning around, crossing the street, and getting into his car.
I watch him go. Everything seems normal.
Ridiculously normal. And that pisses me off because it’s a lie.
There’s nothing normal going on here. It feels like the world is upside down.
Like there are rooftops on the ground and walls in the sky.
Heads walking down the street. Mouths instead of eyes, pupils instead of lips.
Wild shit. Nothing normal at all.
But the bell tower’s still there. Just one street away.
Tall and unchanged. Over on the corner, the neon lights of Kate’s Diner are shining.
And over there, Patricia, a smile on her lips and in her heart, is bringing waffles to put out on a table outside.
And just one more street over, William’s pulling down the shutters of his store and getting into a discussion with Vaughn, who wants to park in Will’s no-parking zone.
Everything’s just like it always is. The mountains are on the horizon. Aspen Highlands to the left. Buttermilk Mountain to the right. And somewhere or other, Snowmass.
Laughing people all over the place, breathing happiness through their eyes and filling their lungs with Aspen’s harmonious air. I still remember what it was like when it was the same for me. I was really doing well back then.
“What are you doing?” Mom asks, coming into the kitchen.
“Looking at the world.”
“Close the door, Aria. The guests are cold.”
“Not happening.”
“Why not?” Mom remains standing next to me, in one hand a basket of bread rolls for the German tourists, in the other a pot of fresh coffee.
“It’s morning, but the moon’s in the sky.”
“Sometimes it’s like that.”
My eyes focus on the white, shimmering full moon over Aspen Highlands. “I just had a kind of theory, Mom.”
“What’s that?”
The wind tickles the skin of my hand.
“You ever wonder why werewolves howl at the full moon?”
My mother heaves a sigh. Her what’s-with-you-we’ve-got-guests-to-take-care-of sigh. She’s about to go, but I suddenly get the feeling that I absolutely have to tell her about it. It could change the world.
“No, wait. Listen. I think werewolves are in love with the moon. But it’s hopeless because there are two hundred and forty thousand miles between them.
They know that but suffer all the same. So they say to themselves, Once a month.
Just once a month I’m going to show everyone just how much I’m suffering.
The wolves howl because they’re in love with the moon, Mom.
They love the moon but can never touch it. ”
My mother looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You should start keeping a diary. Seriously, Aria, I’m beginning to worry.”
“Wyatt’s to blame for all my gray clouds.”
“Wyatt’s to blame for everything, Aria.” The coffee in the pot spills over as she makes a sweeping arm movement.
“Give it a rest. Stop defining yourself through him. You’re more than your memories.
You’re an individual. And you’ve got to understand that.
Love him, for all I care. Love him until you’re one hundred twenty-seven or whatever years old.
If that’s what it’s got to be, accept it.
And if not, accept that, too. Find a base that you can deal with.
And, above all, accept that you’re allowed to be sad.
That’s normal. That’s human. But that doesn’t mean that you have to stand still.
” Her expression grows softer. “What have you gone through all this pain for, Aria? For nothing?”
My throat closes up. “I just wanted to tell you that the wolves love the moon.”
“No, Aria. No, that’s not what you wanted to tell me.”
“You’re brutally honest.”
“Of course I am.”
“I’m going to check on your pumpkin soup.”
“You don’t need to.”
“But I want to.”
“Don’t touch my pumpkin soup. I want to win the golden ladle.”
“It’s not really made of gold, Mom. Will just painted a copper one.”
“You live in your fantasy world, Aria. Let me keep mine.”
Fair enough. I move to help her with the rolls and the coffee, but she turns away.
“You’re not going to work today.”
“Why not?”
“I want you to go downtown to buy yourself a diary.”
“And just because you want me to, I will?”
“Yes.”
“No, Mom.”
“I beg you. And then go to your room and study.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re in school, Aria, and I never see you studying. But I do see the rings beneath your eyes every day.”
“But…”
“I’ve got everything under control. Today’s a good day.”
My glance drifts to the moon. My thoughts drift to the moment Wyatt’s lips touched mine.
How he smelled. How I felt all of a sudden.
Inspired. Hooked. I didn’t want him to stop.
And yet I was the one to break things off.
Because it’s just not possible. Because I just can’t feel that way.
Not after what happened. I feel like the wolves.
I turn and grab my jacket from the coatrack. “Okay. We’ll see each other at the event.”
She blushes. “I am so excited already.”
“You’re not all there, you know.”
“I get it from you.”