Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FIONA
“So why did you bring up this story, B?” I ask, looking over at him.
I toss some firewood into the fireplace and grab a box of matches from the mantle.
Then I light the old newspaper I placed on the bottom as tinder.
My collarbone aches even more after cutting all that firewood, so I stay crouched in front of the fire, nudging the logs with the poker to hide my grimace before turning around.
“I just wanted you to understand that from the moment I met you, I never thought you were helpless.” He gives me a rakish smile and my stomach bottoms out. “You were fearless, and Bruce never stood a chance.”
I flush and give him a knowing smile.
“So what now?” B asks, looking between Seb and me.
Sebastian gives him an annoyed look. The dynamic between them is still strained, but it feels like Seb is warming up. Maybe. Sort of.
“Well, we need food, so we need to try to drive into Flurry,” Seb continues. “And we need to figure out how to get Fi’s car towed and fixed.”
Now that the fire seems to be crackling happily, I turn to Seb. “We have some canned goods here.” I nod at B. “And also, there’s a whole closet of men’s clothes up in the loft that were my dad’s. Take your pick if you need something.”
B walks into the kitchen and starts opening cabinets. “Beans, corn, Spam? Ew. Yes, groceries.”
“I need to be the one to go,” Sebastian says. He sits forward and puts his forearms on his knees. “I’ll drive Stitch’s truck into town and get some supplies and talk to the local car place about a tow and repair.”
“Wait, it’s my truck,” B protests. “Why can’t I go?”
“Well, one, you’re in no condition to be away from the bathroom. And two, because you’ll come back with beer and ketchup potato chips.”
I snicker, and Brantley frowns. “Technically, they won’t have ketchup chips,” he says sullenly. “That’s a Canadian thing.” B closes the cabinet and bends down to study the radio on the counter. He presses a button, and his eyes widen when the tape deck opens.
“And Fi is in hiding,” Seb says. He glances at me.
“No offense, Fi, but with that red hair, you don’t exactly blend in.
” He sighs and turns to B, throwing an arm over the back of the couch.
His expression is a little regretful. “Plus, as much as it pains me to say it, someone needs to stay here with Fi.”
“Hey!” I protest, standing. “I don’t need a keeper.”
Sebastian stands and walks over to me. His citrus smell fills my nostrils as he crowds me.
“This isn’t some toxic masculine need to protect you, Fi.
” His words are heavy and loaded with silent meaning.
It gives me chills. “I’m your friend, so let me help.
For once. Please.” My eyes drop to his lips, and my whole body warms. I haven’t really touched anyone since Anna, and I didn’t realize how much I need it.
Crave it. “You think I don’t see you, but I do.
You’ve been pretending that you’re okay, but it’s not necessary, Fi. ”
I nod reluctantly because I know he’s right.
B and I stand on the front porch, and Seb joins us, pulling on his coat.
Brantley scoured my dad’s clothing, which consisted mostly of old band T-shirts and flannels and found an acceptable outfit, but I’m fully aware he’s going commando because both guys insisted that you don’t wear another man’s underwear.
Seb said he’d try to hunt down some boxers in town.
Whatever. Guys are weird.
Seb pulls on a green toque, tugging it down over his ears, and rubs his hands together. “I won’t be long,” he says, holding out his hand for Brantley’s keys.
B looks at his outstretched palm indignantly but passes them over with a sigh. “Take care of her,” he says mournfully, and I laugh at his dramatics.
“You too,” Seb says, nodding at me, and I roll my eyes.
He gets into the truck, then starts up the engine and sits a minute before putting it in reverse and backing out of the snow-packed driveway. The big tires have no problem finding traction as Seb takes off down the small road and disappears from sight.
“What now?” I ask.
“Let’s take a walk,” B says and nods toward the trail at the other end of the yard.
“Okay.”
The sky is heavy with thick gray clouds, but the snow has stopped, and the forest is silent except for the gurgle of the creek and the crunch of our boots as we shuffle side-by-side through the powdery whiteness.
For once, being with B just feels normal.
I look up at the treetops, admiring the way icicles cling to the tips of the pine trees like frozen tears, when my foot catches on a root, and I stumble.
B’s hand steadies me as I regain my balance, and his gloved fingers tangle with mine. I look down at our intertwined hands and up at him. His cheeks are rosy with cold, and his hazel eyes are almost green in the filtered forest light. We move forward again along the path.
I squeeze Brantley’s hand gently. “How have you really been, B?”
“Do you want the funny answer or the real one?”
“The real one.”
He stops and looks away like he’s thinking. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and quiet. “Really shitty. This isn’t the life I wanted, and I’ve had a helluva time coming to terms with that.”
“B, I’m so sorry.” His eyes find mine. “I know how hard you worked. You can’t play at all?”
“Not professionally.” He sighs. “I haven’t even been on the ice since I recovered.
” His eyes glisten with emotion. “I always took my body for granted, you know? And now it just feels like a prison—it’s probably all in my head, but I feel like I can never get a proper breath, like I’m always drowning.
” He sniffs and huffs a tearful laugh. “Your mom died, you broke up with your girlfriend, and you’re hiding out from your psycho-of-a-stepfather, and you’re still asking me how I am? You haven’t changed, Fi.”
“Don’t forget that you stomped on my heart three years ago.”
He grimaces. “Oof, yeah, that too.”
We start walking again. Soon, the trees thin and open up into a large clearing. The ground is coated in a thick layer of snow, unmarred except for the tracks B left last night. A rundown red barn sits to one side, the white trim chipped and faded.
“Let’s look inside,” Brantley says, pulling me toward the leaning structure. The boyish charm that I remember from college echoes in his voice as he approaches the rickety door. I pull on the handle, and it doesn’t budge.
B pouts with disappointment. “Maybe there’s another way in,” he muses, walking around the side of the structure. I study the weathered wood and frown when I notice the way the snow seems shallower near the door, as if it’s been opened somewhat recently.
“Ah-ha!” B exclaims and he comes running around the building holding an old brass key triumphantly.
“Where did you find that?”
He shrugs. “It was hanging on a rusty nail behind a horseshoe.” He sticks it in the lock and turns. Then B kicks some snow away and yanks open the door, grunting with the effort. The hinges creak loudly, and I squint into the dim interior.
Daylight filters through cracks in the barn’s planks, crisscrossing trails of dust motes throughout the space.
There’s a ladder that leads up to a loft, stacks of hay bales line one wall, and a couple of empty animal stalls line the other.
In the back corner is a large green and yellow John Deere utility tractor with a cab and a huge shovel mounted on the front.
Reaching for my hand, B leads me inside the barn. Protected from the elements, it’s slightly warmer inside.
“Did your dad have horses?” B asks as he walks over to the stall and peers over one of the chest-high doors.
“Not that I remember,” I murmur. “All the times I’ve come here in secret over the years, and I’ve never visited this part of the property.
” I walk to the tractor and inspect it. It hasn’t been used in a long time from what I can tell.
Like everything else, it’s covered in a layer of dust. “That’s weird. ”
B joins me. “What’s weird?”
“Well, it looks like there’s a handprint on the door to the tractor cab.” I climb the steps and peer into the window. The inside looks clean, and there’s a metal coffee cup in the cupholder.
“Maybe a neighbor?”
“Maybe, but it looks like it’s been sat in, not actually used.” I turn around, hop down to the ground, and nearly bump into B’s chest. I move back with a laugh, but he doesn’t move. He stares at me with something feral in his eyes, and it makes my whole body tingle.
B steps forward and guides me around the tractor until my back hits the wall, the splintered wood rough against my palms as I peer up at him.
His lips hover over mine. My gaze scans his face, catching on the tiny scar that runs through his left eyebrow.
I lift my hand hesitantly and graze it with my thumb.
“What’s going on with you and Bastian?” His voice is rough, and his eyes search mine.
“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. All I know is that I feel something so strong for both of them, and all my emotions are twisted up and tangled. “But does it matter? We’re all fucked up right now, and for once, I just want to feel good again.”
“You’re not alone, baby,” B whispers, and the nickname tickles my stomach.
Lust, sadness, and uncertainty mingle in my chest, making my heart hurt. “Tell me if I let something happen with you that it will be different.” I hate the way my voice trembles. “If you hurt me again, I won’t survive it.”
His eyes soften and he places a hand on the wall next to my head, leaning forward. “Even if we don’t end up together, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving how sorry I am. Losing you was the biggest mistake of my life, Fiona.”
I really want to believe him, but my head is still so crowded with doubts. Yet, right now, I just want comfort and touch, and I know B will give them to me.