Chapter 31 Ruger
Ruger
The whole drive to Walter’s coffee shop, my chest hurts, like there’s a fist wrapped around my heart and is squeezing until I can’t breathe. I’ve fallen from a tree, been thrown from a snowmobile, worked myself to the bone in subzero weather, but nothing hurts like this.
Wrenley might leave. And the truth is, there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
I can’t beg her to stay. Can’t guilt her into building a life she doesn’t want.
As much as it kills me, it’s not my place to tell her what her future should look like.
All I can do is stand beside her. Keep my word.
Follow through on the promise I made when we started this whole mess.
Marry her, give her my name, my home, and my protection, whether or not she stays after.
I pull up in front of Walter’s coffee shop, my chest so tight I half expect to keel over on the steering wheel. Every mile of the drive here felt like dragging a boulder through wet snow.
I step inside. The air smells like roasted beans and sugar, but my stomach rolls. Walter is wiping down a table, his usual cheeriness plastered across his face.
Well, hello, he says, his voice warm as the cup of coffee I suddenly wish I could stomach. To what do I owe the pleasure?
My hands shake at my sides.
Walter has always been a steady and loyal friend to everyone in this town. He always seems to know when someone needs a cup of coffee, a place to sit, or a few words of encouragement.
Right now, I need all three.
Do you have a minute? My voice cracks on the words. I need to talk to you about Wrenley.
Walter stills. His smile drops, replaced with concern. He tosses his rag aside. Of course. Come on.
He leads me behind the counter, through the cramped kitchen, and out the back door. We step onto a little patio with its peeling iron furniture. The chair digs into me, stiff and unforgiving.
Walter sits across from me, folding his hands. What’s going on, Ruger?
I pick at a spot of rust on the table, anything to avoid his eyes. I put down a deposit on the Cultural Center.
That’s great! Why do you look like someone died?
I drag a hand down my face. If I keep it in, I’ll choke on it.
So I tell him everything.
I tell him how the whole thing started as a ridiculous plan to get Wrenley into the United States.
How she’d been all but blacklisted in Canada and needed a way out.
How the idea was always that she’d come to Alaska, get married, get a green card, and eventually move on to someplace bigger where she could build the fashion career she wanted in the first place.
I tell him how I never thought any of it would matter because I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Then Wrenley showed up and somehow became the first person I wanted to see every morning and the last person I wanted to talk to before I went to sleep.
My throat burns. My eyes sting. And still, the words keep coming, because once I start, I can’t stop.
And now she’s been handed the exact opportunity we were trying to get her in the first place.
I rub the back of my neck. The worst part is that I love her enough to want her to be happy, but I’m in love with her enough that I want her to stay.
And those two things don’t feel very compatible right now.
Walter leans back, nodding slowly, his face unreadable. That’s a lot, Ruger.
My chest tightens, and I let out a humourless laugh. Maybe the stupidest part is that I’m all twisted up about it, and I don’t even know if she loves me too.
Are you being serious right now? Walter asks.
I look at him. What?
Girl’s trying to decide between her literal dream and you, and you’re wondering if she loves you?
I open my mouth.
Then close it again.
For the record, you didn’t fool me with the fake fiancée routine. He uses air quotes around the last three words.
My head jerks, breath catching. We didn’t?
Walter laughs so loud a bird hopping along the patio flies away.
Ruger, I’ve known you since you were a kid, he says. The engagement story never made much sense. Then I met Wrenley and watched the two of you interact. He shrugs. I figured there was more going on than either of you were saying.
But you never said anything.
What would’ve been the point? Walter asks.
I don’t have an answer for that.
Besides, whether it started as a real engagement or not seems to have stopped mattering, he says.
But more than that, I’m always behind you, Ruger.
I trust that anything you do is done with good intent.
And Wrenley fit in here pretty quickly. It wasn’t hard to want to help her, even if I didn’t know the whole story. Walter smiles. She’s one of us now.
Hearing that stings.
I want her to be one of us. I want her teaching sewing classes and stopping by Walter’s for coffee.
I want her complaining about the weather and working with Audrey at the shop and rolling her eyes every time Bonnie sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.
I want her to become one of those people who have been here so long nobody can quite remember a time before them.
But wanting something doesn’t make it yours.
What do I do? I ask as I stare out toward the harbour. I’m scared she’s going to leave.
Walter nods. She might.
I’m also scared she won’t, I admit, looking back at Walter. If she stays because of me and spends the next ten years wondering what would’ve happened if she’d taken that job, that’s not exactly a happy ending either.
Walter is quiet for a moment, looking lost in thought.
Then he says, I think you need to get out of her way.
My brows furrow. What do you mean?
Right now, she’s trying to decide her future while sharing a bed with the man she’s in love with, he says.
So unless you’re about to go home and tell her that you’re ready to move with her and be happy, then what you need to do is give her space to think without your sad puppy dog eyes making her feel guilty.
I don’t have—
Walter points at me. You do. Trust me. You do.
I lean back in the uncomfortable chair, the metal digging into the middle of my back.
The last thing I want is space from Wrenley.
I want her beside me on the couch while we watch TV.
I want her stealing my hoodies and leaving sewing supplies all over the house.
I want her climbing into my bed at night and to make love to her until we fall asleep in each other’s arms. I want more time, not less.
But I also know Walter’s right.
Every time Wrenley looks at me, she’s looking at a future with me in it. It’s tangible, unlike what waits for her in LA. It would be so easy for me to become the safe choice instead of the right choice. So even though it breaks my heart to do it, I have to give her space.
Put a deadline on it, though, Walter says. Whatever you both feel is right.
I’m pretty sure there already is, I say.
Then you both need to meet it ready for whatever choice is best.
I close my eyes and let out a slow breath. Then I stand. Thanks, Walter.
He nods. Anytime.
I head for the door, knowing the drive home is going to be the hardest one I’ve made in a long time. I know exactly what I need to do, and I hate every part of it.