“No,” she answered, eyes still on mine. “I left.”
I couldn’t help it, I smiled. It turned out she was strong enough to realize she was good enough—whether he saw it or not. Really, I didn’t even believe she truly saw it yet, what her leaving meant. She was more brave than she even knew. It was my only thought as I traced the lines of her face.
And that’s when I noticed.
“You’re not wearing makeup,” I said softly.
“Not since I took it off when you were here the other night.”
I leaned in, pressing my lips softly to hers. I kissed her with all the words I didn’t have to make her see how astounding I already knew she was, and I’d only known her a month.
“You’re beautiful.”
I meant that, not just because she didn’t need makeup, but because she had courage. She was strong. I was running from every feeling that crippled me while she did whatever it took to get her life back.
She inspired me.
The last person to do that was Dani.
Wren shook her head, swiping at the tears that had stained her face. “Ugh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I just unloaded all that on you. I haven’t talked about it much, about him.”
“Hey,” I said, tilting her chin with my knuckle. “I unloaded on you, too. And I don’t know if I speak for you when I say this, but... it felt good. To talk to you about it. About Dani.”
Wren nodded, her eyes soft. “It felt good for me, too.”
“Maybe we talk more often,” I suggested. “You know. When it feels right.”
Rev pounced onto the bed with a loud meow and we both laughed, the spell between us broken by our furry friend. I pecked her cheek once more, petting Rev as he hopped right up on our laps.
“See? Rev agrees.”
Wren rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed a sweet shade of pink and she reached forward to pet behind Rev’s ear. “What does he know? Boys are dumb.”
I chuckled. “No arguments here.”
VACILLATE
vac·il·late
Verb
To waver in mind, will, or feeling : hesitate in choice of opinions or courses
Once again, the night was my enemy.
Anderson had stayed at my cabin all day, and for the first time since our little arrangement, he didn’t work on a single thing. We laid in bed talking, eventually made our way downstairs for my favorite breakfast—coffee and cinnamon rolls—and then we spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening talking on the back porch. It seemed like once the flood gates had been opened that morning, we couldn’t stop the words from pouring out.
And it was amazing.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk about—not just about Keith, but about life in general. Maybe that was the missing part of my experience at the cabin that I hadn’t yet discovered. It turned out the more I learned about Anderson and how he grew up, the more I thought about my own upbringing and how it affected who I was.
Throughout the entire day, even when we talked about the difficult subjects, I didn’t have one single bad feeling wash over me. Every conversation was comfortable, every touch welcome, and when Anderson kissed me soft and sweet on the front porch as the sun set before heading off to his own cabin for the night, I was content as could be.
But then he left.
And my brain kicked on.
Suddenly, nothing felt okay, and I tried to distract myself by cleaning up the cabin, but it did little to help. I made the bed first, and of course the sheets smelled like Anderson—cinnamon and pine—so my thoughts ran wild while I folded and tucked.
What the hell were we even doing?
Here I was divorced for all of five months and he had admitted in one of our conversations that he’d never really had a girlfriend—not in the traditional sense of the word, anyway. But then again, why did I even care that he hadn’t had a girlfriend? It’s not like that’s what I was expecting to be. I mean, I was fresh out of a ten-year relationship, I wasn’t trying to jump into another one. We had literally just slept together not even twenty-four hours ago and already I was thinking about meeting parents and sharing houses?
I huffed, stomping downstairs and getting straight to work on the dishes from our breakfast and lunch. The soapy hot water turned my hands red as I scrubbed, wishing I could cleanse my anxiety just as easily. I needed to calm down, so I tried focusing on the reality of the situation.
What were the facts?
One, I was divorced.
Two, he was guarded.
Three, I was only here temporarily.
Four, we clearly had feelings for each other.
Right?
I knew I had some sort of feelings toward Anderson. Yes, the sex had been of another universe, but it was more than that. Wasn’t it?
I shook my head, rinsing the last fork before cutting the water off and drying my hands. I grabbed the broom next, trying to stay busy and turning my thoughts back to the facts.
Okay, so what were we honestly dealing with here? I would be in Gold Bar for a couple more months, we would hang out like normal, maybe share our beds once in a while, and then I’d go back to Seattle and he’d go back to his life before me and we’d just have fun together while we could. It’d be a sexy, fun summer affair.
Perfect.
It sounded simple, but in reality it made my throat close in, because how could I know that’s what Anderson wanted at all? Was he even thinking about me, about any of this? What if he’d just wanted to get laid, would he even come back the next day? Did he think he was a rebound? Was he a rebound?
The broom slipped from my hands and I growled in frustration, hooking it against the side of the fridge before giving in and tugging on my boots. There was no way I’d get sleep with my anxiety clawing at me from the inside trying to escape. So I pulled it out willingly, and I walked it down to Anderson’s cabin on a tightly bound leash.
I felt like the stupidest girl in the world every step I took toward his place, especially since I knew I was overreacting. Nothing needed to be figured out tonight, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking. So before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked on his door.
His shades were drawn, so I couldn’t see anything until he swung the door open. He didn’t invite me inside, though—just slipped out and onto the porch, wearing only his gray cotton sleep pants, the edges of his briefs just visible where they rose higher on his hips than the pants.
“Wren? You okay?”
“Define okay.”
He frowned, closing the door behind him and stepping into me. His arms fit around me easily, like he was meant to hold me, and though it should have calmed me I only freaked out more.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I said, hands flying up before I let them smack against my sides again. “Everything was fine and then you left and I started thinking—about everything—and now I just don’t know what to do. Listen, if all you wanted was a little action that’s totally fine but I just... I need to know. I need you to be honest with me. I swear, I can take it. I’m not clingy. I’m just new to all this, you know? I haven’t dated since high school.” I blanched. “Not that we’re dating. That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you have to take me out on dates or that we’re in a relationship. God, I know we only slept together once.” I smacked my hand against my forehead. “This sounded so much more sane in my own head.”