But what did I want? What made me happy?
Those were the thoughts that scared me most, because the answer was obvious, and yet I felt ashamed of it.
Anderson.
Everything about him equated to happiness in my mind.
I loved spending time with him, loved learning about him, loved how he looked at me—the real me—every single part of me and found beauty in it. He asked about my designs, my passions, my future. He loved when I didn’t wear makeup, but appreciated when I did, too—not because it made him happy, but because it made me happy.
I’d never felt so at home with someone in my entire life, and yet I’d lived with another man for seven years. I wasn’t sure what that said about Keith, or about Anderson, or about me, for that matter.
But what Sarah had said last night still rang in my ears. Here I was just months out of my divorce and I was falling into another man. It felt like I wasn’t allowed to have these feelings, like I should feel guilty—either for moving on so quickly or for finding happiness in a man, at all.
And what was I supposed to do when what I felt and what I felt was right were completely at war with each other?
My relaxing float down the river was turning more stressful than I’d planned, so I shook the thoughts away for the moment, leaning up to take in the scenery again.
My fingers dragged along in the water, figure skaters on the crystal clear glass, and I watched them until I saw Anderson’s cabin in the distance.
He was there, working out back, chopping more firewood—likely for Momma Von. The summer would end soon, and he took it on himself to make sure everyone was stocked up and ready for the colder months ahead.
For a moment I just watched him work. He was shirtless, the muscles in his back shifting under each lift and pull of the ax, and the way he slung it told me he was working through thoughts of his own.
I leaned forward a little more, and it was as if he sensed me because he stopped mid-strike, looking up to find me on the river. I smiled, waving in his direction, but his face was hard as stone. He was too far away to make out his expression, but I could see how tense he was, and when he dropped the ax and started sprinting toward the river, I furrowed my brows.
He was yelling out something, but I didn’t have time to figure out what.
Because when I looked back in front of me, I saw the rocks.
I was too close to them, the water rushing too fast. I didn’t feel panicked at first, just kicked off one of them the way I’d seen Tucker do when we’d floated down together, but then my tube spun, water splashing up and over me, shocking the breath from my chest.
I hit another rock and then another, bouncing between them like a pinball, heart racing when I realized I couldn’t stabilize it. I reached my hand out, braced with my feet, but I was rushing too fast and when the rocks hit my hand with brutal force I yelped, pulling it back just as I bounced off another rock. The river dipped, and then I hit one final rock, this one at an angle.
My tube flipped, tossing me into the water with just enough time to take one last deep breath.
I couldn’t move.
My feet were bricks, my legs lead. I was running, but not fast enough. Every sound was muffled, save for the beat of my heart loud in my ears. It drummed harder and harder, echoing my racing thoughts.
Not again. Please, God, no. I have to save her. I can’t lose her—not like this, not ever.
As soon as my legs hit the water, every sense came rushing back. The icy water shocked my system but I dove in anyway, praying I’d catch her before she floated past. Wren kept bobbing up for air before being sucked down again, her hair in a whirlwind around her, arms flailing, tube long gone now.
Flashes of Dani’s face flitted in and out, and I wondered if this was what she’d looked like the day the river took her life—the day I’d pushed her too far.
Guilt and panic surged as high as the water. I was drowning, suffocating from the threat of death’s hands around my neck again. Wren was almost to me now and I wasn’t far enough into the river to stop her from floating past.
The current was strong and I gritted against the pressure of it, boots grasping for friction on the rocks below as I fought through my demons to fight for life. Her head went under as she floated past me and I growled, lunging.
I reached out as far as I could and squinted against the sun, vision blurred from the water and the rays. Just when the river hit the bottom of my chest I caught her by the ankle, ripping her back upstream until I held her in my arms.
She wrapped around me, coughing over my shoulder as I trudged back to the shore.
She held on tight and I did, too—both of us adjusting and readjusting our grips like we were afraid even one inch of separation would lead to our demise. And though I had her and I knew she was safe, I was still shaking, heart thumping so hard against my ribs it nearly knocked my breath away.
When we hit the shore, I tried to calm myself, tried to take a breath, a moment, even a split second to think before I spoke, but I couldn’t. I dropped her gently to her feet, still coughing, and held her small face between my hands.
“Are you okay?” I asked, voice too high-pitched, hands shaking as I held her.
She nodded, eyes wide and lips trembling, and though I wanted to pull her into me and rock her and soothe her, I couldn’t.
I snapped.
“Jesus Christ, Wren, what were you thinking?!”
I dropped my hands from her face and ran them back through my wet hair, pacing away from her as my entire body shook. With what, I wasn’t sure—cold, terror, rage, a mixture of the three, maybe.
“I,” she started, still shivering. She looked so small, dripping wet and crossing her arms over her middle. “I lost control of the tube. The rocks, they—”
“I know! I saw!” My nose flared, fists clenched together at my sides so hard I thought they’d never unfurl again. “Why were you on the river by yourself? It’s dangerous. It’s stupid.”
“I just wanted to float, I didn’t know,” she started and I clamped my mouth shut, jaw clenching as I stormed past her and up to where my shirt was thrown over my toolbox. Her face screwed up in confusion as she followed. “What is your problem? I’m sorry, okay? It’s not like I meant to fall in the river.”
“You shouldn’t have been out there at all, not alone.”
“Okay, well I was, and I’m sorry. Can we drop it now?” She was panting, catching up to me just as I swiped my shirt off the back of my box and threw it on over my head.
“No! We can’t fucking drop it!”
Wren’s mouth popped open, her eyes flicking between mine like she didn’t know who I was. And in that moment I couldn’t blame her. My body had been seized by terror, my mind pirated by the ghosts of my past.
“What’s this really about?” she asked, taking a small step toward me. I took an even bigger one back and she paused again. “Is this about last night?”
“No, it’s about right now. It’s about you putting yourself in danger and not even thinking about what you were doing.”
“Oh my God, Anderson, I said I’m sorry! It’s not like I took Benjamin with me or something, it was just me. I was the only one affected by the choice, okay?”
“Are you really that selfish?!” I screamed, chest heaving, and the way her face dropped pulled me back to reality.