Chapter Five
Birdie
15 years ago
I egged him on.
“Awesome amphibians?” His voice is way deeper than most boys.
The day I acknowledged that Rex Perchaz exists, I brought this on myself.
Papers rustle and I barely suppress a growl, twisting around in my desk to snatch my magazine out of his giant grubby hands. It’s brand new and I’m not about to let him get it all greasy.
“Looking for your frog prince?” He leans back, folding his arms behind his head. The school uniform is way too small on him. His arms are thick, and I can’t ever figure out if it’s muscle or fat. Probably both. Not that I look at him often.
His lips pucker and make a smacking sound.
Frog prince? Sure. If my frog prince was the beautiful Thaumaturgus Amphibius Magnificens from East Africa, featured on this month’s cover of Wildlife Unbound . That frog is so rare, you bet your butt I’d kiss its red-and-purple spotted head if I saw one. Well, as long as I had an antidote ready. They’re beautiful but also extremely poisonous.
I snatch the magazine back. “Gross.”
As soon as I turn around in my seat, a better retort starts formulating. After vibrating for a minute, wishing I’d said something snappier, really stuck it to him, Mr. Slaytic pauses his demonstration of safety measures with electrical switches to grab more supplies for the room.
I hiss over my shoulder, “Kissing a frog would be infinitely more enjoyable than kissing you.”
Ha! Got him. I wiggle in victory.
He leans forward, so close his breath tickles my hair, and whispers near my ear, “So you have thought about kissing me?” There’s a smile in his voice. I just know it.
No. The word doesn’t even make it past my lips as he wraps his finger around a curl. I feel the movement even though he doesn’t pull or yank like my annoying little brothers do when they sit behind me in the car. Rex prefers to loop my hair around his fat finger and tug. He fiddles with it, applying enough pressure that my whole body tingles.
What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have left it half down today. The day of shop class. The subtle motion of him behind me and the sound of him breathing makes everything inside me tighten, ready to snap. And now he’s close enough I can smell him. It’s just soap, I think, but it’s nice. Clean. I think he must have gym class right before this.
My leg shakes. I can’t take it anymore, so I sweep a hand behind my neck and snatch my hair over my right shoulder.
He always has this effect on me. Flirts with me as a joke.
And I always burn. Without fail, my cheeks flame. My neck flashed hot. If I could breathe fire, I would.
The way he always has that evil little smirk, I just know it’s a trap. Because I’m the weird human kid in school and he’s this tall rebellious demon who obviously doesn't care about rules or grades or doing anything the way they tell us to. Boys like him make meals of studious kids like me. Always poking at me. Big bully. He’s just waiting for me to fall prey to the bad boy flirtation so he can turn around and laugh in my face. I just know it.
A warm gust of air floats across my exposed neck and ear. Except we’re indoors and there’s no breeze to be had. I know what he’s up to now. Without even looking, I shoot my hand back to grab the drinking straw, one of his favorite implements of torture, and dig the kitten heel of my uniform shoe into the toe of his boot where it always creeps up under my desk.
Ever since I stopped ignoring him, fighting back is my only option. Because ignoring Rex Perchaz is impossible.
Present Day
A s soon as the restaurant door closes, the night swallows me whole. Over the mismatched rooftops of Winter Bliss, fireflies twist in a twilight swarm over the lake. From town, the sight is little more than a flickering mass of rainbow lights, almost like a mirage, but if I was on the ranch, it would take my breath away.
Gosta fireflies are a rare, multicolored breed. They tend to stick together in family groups of similar colors, so up close you can see the small pods in similar hues as they dance around and between their neighbors of other colors. The rare off-color matches are mating pairs and easy to pick out—red and yellow or blue and purple or any other combination. It’s like a little miracle when you can spot them. Love matches of opposites, I like to think.
Like Rom and Noelle.
“Lemmy, stop it.” I halt and pull the prairie dog out of my hoodie pocket, his face to mine. “I know you think those are love bites, but they sure don’t feel like it.”
He was domesticated from infancy by a shady, unregulated animal shop off a back highway. I got hold of him when they closed down. And man, he’s a cute little thing, even more so lately because of the tiny cast on his leg, making him look so helpless and innocent. But he’s not. Those front teeth are no joke, and he’s got no one but himself to blame for the broken leg.
I scratch his head and pick up a small branch off the ground, kicking myself for not bringing a better chew toy. He already ate tonight and I don’t want him crapping in my clothes, so this’ll do until we get back home.
Recently, Lemmy got stuck in the fencing I erected specifically to keep him out of the air vents. He’s an escape artist and always looking for tunnels. But the fencing did its job, far too well, because he twisted himself up bad enough he broke his femur, saddling me with a $1,000 vet bill. At this point, I should just go back to school and become a vet myself with how much of a frequent flier I am. If the good doctor had a loyalty card, I’d be rolling in points. With a broken leg, he can’t burn off his excess energy running around and tends to get into more trouble when left alone for long periods of time. So lately, he’s been my little buddy wherever I can carry him.
For the last hour, he’s been napping in my pocket, snuggled up, but usually he likes to poke his head out every chance he gets. It’s why I didn’t go too far into the restaurant.
With him safely ensconced back in my pocket, I can feel him going to town on the branch, so I rush down the street, eager to link up with Randy so I can get back home.
The streets are quiet. It’s past eight, so people are where they plan to be for the night. I drove in to pick up some packages at my postbox and drop off a card for Noelle and Rom’s engagement party. They weren’t expecting me, but I wanted to go, and I’m glad I did.
They really are so in love.
Just like you and Raymond.
My exhale comes out like a growl as I quicken my steps and tighten my shawl, seeing Rex’s stone-cold expression in my mind. That damned messy demon sets me on edge. Is Randy really such an impossible name to remember? Every word out of his mouth is a live wire straight to the bratty little girl who told him off in class. I can barely breathe around him sometimes. He’s annoying. Brash. Unsettling.
And he’s leaving Winter Bliss tomorrow. Mom told me offhandedly a few days ago. I pause on the sidewalk and look back. Was that the last time I’ll see him? My stomach twists.
Maybe I’m hungry. I really should have picked up a plate from that engagement party. I forgot to eat dinner and just scarfed down some chips in the Jeep on the way over here. I’ll stop by the diner before they close. To-go, since I’m sure a prairie dog isn’t exactly welcome. The thought of some warm soup in a bread bowl is enough to lift my spirits though.
I love it here. Well, I love my ranch the most, but Winter Bliss is a close second. It’s big enough that there are tons of great shops and restaurants, but small enough that if you frequent them, people remember you by name. Some folks hate the idea of moving back to their childhood hometown but for me, it was the opposite. Living in New York was suffocating. You can’t see the stars. Having even a single pet is a production. I barely felt like I could stretch out. Even in yoga classes, we were packed arm to arm like sardines.
Having a prairie dog in my pocket? I’d probably be locked up for fifteen health code violations. Here, I get the odd stare if people notice, but it’s mostly a live-and-let-live kind of town.
Moving home to Winter Bliss and buying my wild plot of land was the best decision I’ve ever made. I’m like a walking Hallmark movie heroine, down to owning a Christmas tree farm and getting engaged to a local guy.
And tomorrow's my wedding day.
I used to dream about quiet nights, living off the land, and having a simple life.
And I have it.
Don’t I?
I hope Randy’s okay. He hasn’t texted me back since we video chatted over lunch about the wedding eve to-do list. He took care of all the town stuff while I took care of the ranch tasks. We’re going to ride away from the reception on my two horses, so I got them groomed and all the food and supplies prepped.
And since we wanted the walk down the aisle to be the first time we see each other on the wedding day, we won’t even stay with each other tonight. If I can catch him, we can have one final moment together before everything gets crazy tomorrow.
I try his phone again but it goes straight to voicemail. It must have died. He’s been putting his back into all the logistics these last few days. As I turn the corner to his travel agency office, which he lives directly above, I see the light still on through the storefront window.
He really works hard. It’s the first thing we bonded over when we met at a speed dating event in town. His work ethic and mine are perfectly aligned, and it turns out, our life visions are too. We love Winter Bliss and want to see it shine. Randy is at the forefront of the booming travel industry, connecting the local luxury resort clientele with small-town businesses. And I want to spearhead more awareness and protection of local wildlife. At times, those can seem like disconnected or even opposing goals, but my ranch hosting ecotourism is how we’ll make it work.
“Hey! Randy, you here?” I call out as the door jingles behind me.
He’s hunched over his desk and looks up, bleary-eyed, until he smiles. “Hey, you!”
We hug, and he immediately sits back down, pointing to his screen. “I know you said no honeymoon, but check this out. There’s a last-minute package to Greece for a five-night cruise and three nights on land. Plane tickets are a steal.”
“There’s no way.” I shake my head, hands wringing. That’s eight days plus travel time. “The animals.”
Lemmy takes the opportunity to pop out of my pocket.
“I thought something smelled weird.” Randy looks at him with an exhausted expression, then back up to me.
“Fun fact: Prairie dogs have the most complicated language of any animal species ever decoded, including kissing to reinforce affection.”
He pulls a cringe face that I think was meant to be a courtesy smile and sighs. “Listen, I could book the tickets for a couple days from now. With everyone at the wedding, I’m sure you can find people willing to feed the animals or whatever. They could cover the chores in shifts.”
Normally, I’m a pushover with anything he wants, but the animals need a lot of specialized care that’s hard to cover and the delays in construction have added hours of stress to my days and dozens of gray hairs to my head. I feel a grimace creasing across my face, the one I usually try to hide.
“Randy. There’s just . . . there’s no way. Not right now. There’s way too much to do.” I run a hand through my hair, pacing in front of his desk. “I mean, we could have maybe done a short trip over the summer if we hadn’t gotten engaged on a whim.”
Immediately, I worry that I hurt his feelings, but he just studies his computer screen with obvious disappointment before looking up at me like he’s ready to say something when he stops.
“Hmm. Yeah.” A strange look passes over his face as he glances from me to Lemmy. He swallows and stands, clasping my shoulder in an odd pseudo-embrace. I do have a stinky wild animal on my person. “You heading back out there soon?”
“Yep. Lemmy’s up past his bedtime. Gotta make an early night of it.” A morning wedding in town seemed like a good idea until I factored in all the prep time, then getting myself to the Hellfyre Inn. It’s the practical choice for guests but not at all for me. I sigh. “Hair and makeup will be at the ranch at 4:30 a.m., then I’ll need to get the horses loaded up. But I’m going to grab a bite to eat at the diner right now before I head out. You want to come with?”
“No thanks. I went to the sandwich shop earlier. Actually, Skyla Flarelion was there.” He squeezes my shoulder and sits back down. There’s light in his eyes for the first time all night. “She’s really excited about A Wild Hearts Holiday. I wanted to finish off the PR flier for the event and email it over to keep it on her mind. We could be the most talked about holiday party in the county.”
The holidays? I know it’s still a couple months away, but I am seriously worried the cabins won’t be done by then and a formal catered dinner will be all for nothing. But now’s not the time to voice that. Or the small pang of sadness that he doesn’t want to spend time together tonight, even if it’s just to walk a few blocks away and get some food. Since getting engaged, our relationship has become even more distant than it was when we were dating.
I try to push it from my mind. Marriage is different than love, at least in my eyes. Everything about my life right now is laser focused on my responsibilities. I have a tree farm and animals I need to care for. That is more important to me than waiting around for some fairytale love. I’m practical enough to be satisfied with the best available option.
Good enough is good enough.
“I’m glad,” I say. “About the event. And cc me on the email, please.” Sometimes he forgets to include me in all these plans. I slide my hand into his for a quick squeeze.
His thumb rubs over my knuckles as he takes in the delicate henna design my mom and stepmom painted on my skin last night.
“Nice,” he says. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.
While a bride’s henna night is usually ladies-only, I tried to involve him in several other Turkish traditions my mom suggested. But every idea just sort of fell through. I mean, we’ve been busy. A few months isn’t nearly enough time to splash out on everything my family would’ve wanted. It’s fine.
“See you tomorrow,” I say, and for some reason it almost comes out as a question.
“See you.” He brings my knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss. His nostrils flare and he grimaces. Oh crap, they probably don’t smell great thanks to the wild rodent I’ve been holding all night. I back away with my fake-it-till-you-make-it smile working overtime. Randy’s expression is like a mirror image.
We’re both tired and nervous, but that realization bolsters me. We’re in this together.