Chapter 30
THIRTY
She doesn’t come to my house that night, and in my mind, that’s her answer.
Her car was still missing by the time I begrudgingly went to bed, not that I slept much, keeping an ear out for the sound of tires on her drive.
When I woke up to find her car already out of the driveway, I wondered if she had even come home the night before.
Even though I’m pretty sure she won’t be coming home later in the morning since she’s planning to do setup and finishing touches at the community center, and the doors open at four, I spend the whole day with an eye on her house, ready to head over there and try to iron this out the second I see her.
I don’t, though.
By four, I’m pacing my house and know that the very early part of the celebration has begun, and I can’t keep pacing my place indefinitely.
Without any real plan, I get in my car and start to drive.
I drive past the community center, noticing the lot is full and the entire place decked out in Christmas lights, before continuing down the road.
In contrast, the lot for The Mill is nearly empty when I pull in, and if I didn’t see the neon open sign lit up, I’d think it was closed.
The inside looks downright depressing when I walk in, just four customers scattered through the usually busy bar.
When I sidle up to the bar, leaving my phone face up just in case someone reaches out to me—in case she reaches out to me—Colton comes up in front of me, an eyebrow raised high.
“Surprised to see you here.”
I shrug in indifference. “Surprised you’re even open.”
“In a small town like this, after the festival starts to wind down, people without families to get home to will need somewhere to go. By nine, this place will be packed.”
I nod but don’t say anything more. I don’t even order a drink; I’m not in the mood at all. In fact, I’m not really sure why I came here, other than that Colt is the only other person I really know in town, and I couldn’t stay in my house a minute longer.
“You’re not going to the Christmas festival?”
I let out a humorless laugh, thinking about Wren and her family and the whole damn town enjoying a festive time together. “I don’t think I’d be very welcome.”
Colton’s laugh actually contains humor. “Why, because you’re the least cheery fuck around?”
“No,” I say with a sigh, and then, because I think I crossed the town limits and every aspect of my personality changed, I share. “Wren and I got into a fight.”
“Mmm,” he says, then pours a beer and slides it over to me. I cup my hands around it, though I don’t drink it. “I’m assuming that’s why she slept at Hallie’s last night?”
“She did?”
He shrugs. “We live in a split house; she’s right next to me. Heard them stumble in late last night, and they were chatting a bit early this morning.”
Well, at least that explains where she was last night. I’m a bit relieved that she stayed with Hallie, since driving home late and exhausted would have been dangerous.
“What was the fight about?” he asks.
I am not a sharer.
I am not the kind of man who spills personal details with friends or asks for relationship advice. Part of that is because I haven’t had a proper relationship to speak of, but also because I value my privacy and prefer to keep things to myself.
So it’s a surprise when I find myself spilling it all to Colt.
“We were supposed to spend the night together last night. I had a big surprise for her, and I wanted her to have a relaxing night before her big day. But she forgot that we had made plans and took on another task, which someone else had fallen short on. I was mad, and then she got mad. Then she never came home so we could talk it out, so I kind of figured that was her answer.” That all-too-familiar pain lances through me, the same one I felt every time I glanced over at her empty drive.
On the drive here, everything reminded me of her.
Every light, every bow, every decoration made that vice on my heart tighten.
I didn’t miss the irony of coming to Holly Ridge to avoid the holidays and the dread and failure that accompanied them, only to fall in love with Christmas spirit personified.
If things between Wren and me are unfixable, I know that the pain I used to feel around the holidays will be a pleasant contrast.
Colton nods as if his argument makes sense to him. “Sounds about right. She and Hallie have had that fight a dozen times over. You should know, if you stay with her, that’s a fight you’ll probably be fighting for the rest of your life.”
I nod, knowing that to be the truth.
But something about the way he says it makes me realize something new: I’m okay with it.
I’m okay with having this argument, standing firm when I know she needs me to, and being flexible when I must. Part of what makes Wren Wren is the way she gives so freely.
I realize now that I don’t want to change that, as I think she fears.
I simply want to protect her so she always has the energy to help where it will be most effective, while also prioritizing her own needs.
Even more, I know I let my emotions and disappointment cloud the big picture yesterday.
It wasn’t the right time to push her, and it surely wasn’t the right way.
I can’t help but wonder how things would have played out if I hadn't. I should have offered to come to the community center and help, even though I can’t wrap a gift to save my life.
I’m sure she could have found a job for me, something small to get off her plate.
Regret is flooding my veins and my mind, and I almost don’t hear Colt when he speaks next.
“You know, the pianist is sick.”
My head raises, and my brows furrow in confusion. “What?”
“Yeah, the pianist for the festival. Mr. Mooney. He’s been playing there for as long as I can remember, and he provides the only music at the festival, aside from the performances.
Something about live piano makes it more festive than a recording or some shit.
” He shrugs, as if it makes no sense to him, before continuing.
“Anyway, he got that nasty cold that’s been going around, along with the chorus teacher.
I think Wren’s going to try and scrounge someone up, but it’s also the last minute and the day before Christmas Eve. ”
My mind is reeling on so many fronts that I don’t know where to start.
But mostly, it settles on how stressed Wren must be. If it’s a big part of the vibe and experience of the festival, and there is no piano on the first one she’s been in charge of, she’s going to be a mess. Did she find a replacement? And if she didn’t, what would she do? Is she okay?
For a split second, an idea rolls into my mind, but panic surges with it.
I could go.
I could easily play the piano for the festival.
But it would be one step closer to losing the anonymity that I’ve learned to cherish here.
I always told myself it wouldn’t be that great.
While it might be nice to grocery shop without being stopped or to meet someone and know there were no other motives to their kindness, that didn’t make it worth it for me.
But I was so wrong.
It’s fucking amazing, and with that burden lifted, I’ve even gone and made friends with people who I know for a fact like me because I’m Adam Porter, a regular resident of Holly Ridge, not Adam Porter, songwriter or bassist or connection to big names in flashy magazines, for the first time I can remember.
But I only feel that way, feel so settled and accepted here, because of Wren, who, when I told everything to her, didn’t even bat an eye. She didn’t treat me any differently, didn’t stop arguing with me all the time, and didn’t start cozying up to me to get something.
Would anything really change if everyone found out who I really was?
I shake my head, trying to knock the thought from my mind. It doesn’t matter. If she wanted me to be there, she would have called and asked for my help.
Would she have? The annoying conscience in my head that’s starting to sound way too much like Colt’s says. The one time she even joked about it, you freaked out.
I’m lost in my thoughts, but Colton’s following words knock me out of it.
“It would be a great time for some wunderkind musician to come in.”
My heart skips a beat, but when I look up at Colt, he’s wiping down the bar. I almost think I imagined his words, but a slight smirk plays at his lips. I continue to stare at him until finally, he puts down the rag and leans into his hands on the bar top, looking at me.
That’s when I see the truth there: he knows.
“You know?”
“Yeah. I was a huge fan of Midnight Ash. First day you came in, I knew who you were.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
He shrugs before explaining. “Didn’t seem like you wanted anyone else to know, so I kept it to myself.”
For the first time in a while, I find myself completely and utterly speechless.
This whole time, I thought I was hiding from who I was, that I was experiencing being treated normally for the first time in forever.
But maybe that isn’t the case at all. Perhaps I just found a place where no one genuinely cares.
“Does anyone else know?”
He shrugs again, which seems to be his primary method of communicating. “I think a couple of people around town have put it together.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “No one’s ever mentioned it to me.”
“Why would they? It’s a small town, but we respect boundaries here.” I give him a raised eyebrow, and he lets out a laugh. “For the most part. They’re a bit nosy, but they mean well.”
For a moment, I want to say that no one respects Wren’s boundaries, but that’s not fair either. Wren hasn’t set boundaries for herself, so there aren’t really any to respect.
It’s something I’m determined to continue to work on.
For as long as she’ll have me.
I shouldn’t have given Wren so much shit about wanting to help. It’s who she is. Sure, she could prioritize herself a bit more, but that’s not something that’s going to change overnight, much less just because a new man came into her life.
Yesterday, it felt big, the disappointment of it, but the reality is, it’s something that, if I want to be with her, I’m going to have to accept, and we’re going to have to work on it together. Probably for the rest of our lives, something I’m realizing more and more is what I want with Wren.
But first, I have a festival to get to.
“I gotta go,” I say out loud, standing and moving for my wallet, fumbling and dropping it as I do. I grab it and then try to get some cash out, dropping the whole thing once more.
Colt lets out a laugh and shakes his head, waving a hand at me. “It’s all good. This one’s on me, man. Merry Christmas.”
I hesitate for a moment, wondering how the fuck this man turns a profit before realizing I have a mission to get on with. I give him a broad smile and a nod, then head for the door.
“Merry Christmas, Colt,” I call over my shoulder, pulling my phone app up to make a call.