After pouring us each a cup of coffee, we sat at a corner table, right beside a window with a view of the snowy courtyard. Winter birds stood out against the snow, their bright red feathers contrasting with the white as they swept through the area.
“I had a pet bird before,” Reed said, drawing my eyes back to him as he picked at his muffin.
“Oh?”
He nodded. “I found it on my front porch when I was seven. It was just a baby and couldn’t fly yet. Maybe it fell from its nest or maybe it was abandoned, but I couldn’t leave it there. So, I cut up a box and put some grass and things I found in the yard into it.” A sad smile touched his lips. “She would sit on my finger as I carried her around the house, showing her everything and talking to her. I even painted her box and glued fake gemstones on the side. My dad called me a sissy because of it, saying I was acting like a little girl. He made me put the bird back outside.”
My food was forgotten as I listened to his story. More than that, though, I listened to the tone of his voice as he told it, a little sad and distant.
“I’m almost afraid to ask what happened to the bird,” I said after a short pause.
Reed softly smiled. “I lived on the outskirts of town, kinda in the country, and there was an old birdhouse nailed to a tree in the backyard. It had been there ever since I could remember. After adding some grass to keep her warm and comfortable, I put her into it. I checked on her each day I came home from school, and I fed her bugs. I talked to her and told her how pretty she was. Then, one day she was gone.”
“She learned to fly,” I said, hoping it was true. I had grown awfully invested in his story and didn’t want to believe the bird had died.
“Yep,” Reed answered. “After seeing she was gone, I was frantic and searched for her. I saw her in a nearby tree and called out to her. I climbed the tree and tried to get her, but right as I reached her and stretched out my hand, she flew away. I never saw her again. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do.” He shook his head and released a short laugh. “I don’t know why I told you that story. It sounds stupid now. Of course she flew away. She wasn’t meant to be a pet. She belonged in the wild.”
The pain in his eyes told me there was a deeper meaning to the story. But we weren’t close enough for me to pry.
“She was only able to fly because of you,” I said. His hazel eyes flickered to me, and my heart thudded heavier. “You cared for her and gave her the chance to grow. To be free. I’m sure it was sad that she left, but you did a great thing by helping her.”
“I guess so.” Reed dropped his gaze to his coffee. “I should be used to it by now.”
“Used to what?”
“Nothing,” he said dismissively, then changed his tone. “I’ll make some calls after breakfast to get an update on the roads and see if our route is cleared yet.”
“Great.”
Silence fell over our table after that. The young couple I’d met the night before sat beside us, holding hands across the tabletop and smiling at each other as they talked. Sorrow touched my chest at the sight, and I averted my eyes. Once upon a time, that had been me: stupidly in love. What a fool I had been.
After breakfast, we discovered our situation was just as we’d both suspected. The blizzard had completely blocked our route home. No one would be passing through it that day, and maybe not even the day after depending on whether it continued to snow.
“Do you think the roads in town are okay enough for us to get a few things?” Reed asked as we carried our plates to the bin where other guests had disposed of their dishes.
“I can take you into town if you need me to,” Cole said from the buffet bar as he added fresh eggs and bacon. “I have a truck that can drive through anything. We’re used to the snow around here, so I doubt many places will be closed. Sorry. I overheard your conversation.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’re not. I offered.” He placed a metal lid back on the eggs and turned to us with a warm smile. “Give me about an hour and I can take you.”
While we waited for Cole, Reed and I went back up to our room. I called Mr. Crawford and told him we were stuck in Ivory Falls for another day, perhaps two. He wasn’t happy, but as Reed had told me, it was out of my control.
“Shit happens,” Reed said after I got off the phone, tugging on his coat. “He’s the one who said you had to make this trip work whatever the cost, so he has no room to bitch about it now.” He looped a scarf around his neck before checking out his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Thin fingers combed through his bangs as he styled them with the hair paste he’d carried in his overnight bag, giving him a casual and kind of messy look.
“You do know he’s your boss,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “And so am I. You should watch what you say. It’s not professional.”
Reed cringed and looked at me with wide eyes. “Oops. It’s still true, though. It’s like making someone drive to get you something, then getting mad when they get a flat tire. We’re only human, Mr. Sawyer. We’re not like Heat Miser and the winter dude who can control the weather.”
“Who?” I stepped out of the way when he left the bathroom.
“Oh my god, you don’t know them either?” he asked. “You’ve never watched The Year Without a Santa Claus?”
“I don’t like Christmas movies.”
“Good grief.” Reed pulled on his gloves and sighed. “One day, I’m gonna make you watch it. Cinderella too. You poor, deprived soul.”
In a way, I liked how Reed felt comfortable enough around me to say things he would’ve normally kept quiet. But I also hated it. We needed to return to a strict business relationship. One without the familiarity of personal conversation and light teasing.
“When we’re back from town, I’ll need you to call clients and let them know what’s going on and to reschedule any meetings I had for today, unless they’re able to do it remotely.”
Reed seemed to sense my change in tone. The smile left his face as a frown took its place. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Seven
Reed
Cole drove us to the general store, since it was one of the only places still open. I would’ve preferred a shopping mall so I could get more flattering clothes, but it would have to do.
It really is like a damn Hallmark movie town.
“I know it’s not much,” Cole said as we entered the store, “But I hope you’re able to find a few things to hold you over until you can go home.”
“It’s great,” Daniel answered. “Thank you.”
We found the men’s clothing section and rifled through the racks of boring shirts with way too much plaid. I held one up to my chest.
“What do you think? Can I pull off the lumberjack look?”
Daniel snorted and kept looking. He had two sweaters slung over one arm, as well as two black shirts and jeans. Catching me looking, he scowled. “Why are you staring at me?”
“It’s going to be weird seeing you in casual clothes.”