I let out something between a growl and a scream, though not loud enough that he could hear it, and then I stomped back to the car and leaned in long enough to grab my purse. I slammed the door, hit the lock button, and jogged to catch up to the grumpy man carrying the rest of my things.
I’ll just get inside, warm up, and call Dad.
No big deal.
“You’re insufferable,” I said when I finally caught up to him.
“Aren’t you glad you left?”
“If only I’d had the good sense to stay gone.”
His jaw ticked, but he said nothing, adjusting my bag on his shoulder.
And we walked the rest of the way to the cabin at the end of the drive in silence.
I didn’t take the time to marvel at the little A-frame cabin River led us up to — mostly because every part of my body was just about frozen by the time we made it to the front door. Instead, I happily followed him inside when he shoved the door open, every molecule of my being rejoicing at the rush of warm air that greeted us.
And the very next instant, a pair of paws greeted me, too — landing right on the center of my chest and pushing me back against the door River had just closed.
I let out a squeak, squinting against the slobbery tongue assaulting my face. It stung against my cold cheeks, and I would have been annoyed or pissed off if River wouldn’t have said the next words he did.
“That’s enough, Moose,” he said. “Down boy.”
River didn’t even raise his voice, it was just a low, firm command. But Moose obeyed, just like he always had, and all the shock and displeasure faded in an instant at the sound of his name.
“Moose?” I asked, first to the dog, and then my eyes found River’s. “Our Moose?”
River’s jaw ticked, but he otherwise said nothing, dropping my suitcase to the floor with a thud.
Moose was making the strangest squealing noises I’d ever heard, and I knew it took every ounce of willpower that mutt had to keep his ass on the floor as he looked up at me with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His tail was waving furiously, his mahogany brown fur long and silky just like I remembered, although the fur around his mouth was peppered with gray now, and he had the same scar over his nose from when we’d first found him abandoned and bleeding in the woods.
“Oh my God, it really is you!” I dropped to my knees then, opening my arms, and that was the only permission Moose needed to leap onto me once more. I fell backward at the impact, my petite frame no match for the ninety pounds of muscle that dog had on him, but I was laughing all the same as he licked my cheeks, my chin, still making those same squealing noises.
“Traitor,” River murmured under his breath, and then he left us at the door, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the rack by the fireplace.
“I can’t believe you still have him,” I marveled, rubbing Moose behind the ears. I didn’t care that his breath smelled like he’d been eating dead skunks for dinner a week straight — I never thought I’d see this dog again, and now that he was in my arms, I couldn’t imagine how I ever left him behind.
“What, did you think I’d just kick him out?” River bit back. And I thought I heard him mumble something under his breath, but couldn’t be sure what.
“Of course not,” I answered softly, patting Moose’s head once more before I stood. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but the dog was at least eleven years old now, if not more. We never were sure of his age when we found him. “I guess I’m just surprised to see him, that’s all.”
“Well, today is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”
The joy Moose had brought evaporated in an instant, and I frowned, watching as River shook the snow from his boots next before dropping them by the fireplace. He peeled off his hat and gloves, and then it was just him in a pair of dark jeans, a beige, thermal, long-sleeve shirt, and two mismatched socks with holes in the toes.
Nothing had changed, and yet everything had.
River was older than when I’d left, that much was obvious, but now that we were inside and in the warm light of his cabin, I could see it. I could see the lines of his face that weren’t there before, the creases of his eyes, the strong line between his brows. I could see the bit of gray dotting his stubble prematurely, something his father had, too, when he was younger. His hair used to be so long it’d curl around the edge of his baseball cap, but now, it was just a fade, cut short and simple. His arms were bigger, his chest, too — the lean frame from the days he’d played ball replaced by a body I barely recognized. It seemed everything about him was more sculpted and manly, such a contrast from the boy who’d stood in my rearview mirror and watched me drive away.
And while I stood there and studied my ex, he didn’t so much as give me a second glance before he was headed for the kitchen.
I watched his head disappear inside the old yellow refrigerator long enough to pull out a can of Budweiser, and then he cracked it and drank half in one gulp.
At least some things never change.
Moose was still circling around my feet with a wagging tail as I stripped off my own coat and hung it next to River’s on the rack, finally taking in the scene of the small cabin.
It was essentially one large room, the only door one in the back corner that I assumed hid a bathroom. Everything else existed in a sort of chaotic harmony inside the shared space — a tiny kitchen with appliances older than we were, a small folding table cracked at the edges with three mismatched metal chairs around it, a queen-size bed in the corner with navy sheets, two worn pillows, and a simple quilt on top of it. There was a large leather couch that I thought I recognized as the same one his dad used to have in the den, and three shelves of books lining the wall by the fireplace.
It smelled a little like cinnamon, a little like firewood, and a little like whiskey — all wrapped in one.
There seemed to be little projects scattered everywhere else — a half-built something or other in the center of the room, with saw dust and tools littered around it, a half-finished puzzle on the folding table next to a deck of cards splayed out in a half-finished game of solitaire. A book was spread open, face down, the coffee table in front of the couch serving as a bookmark — and it looked halfway finished, too.
So many things started, not a single one completed.
Again, I found myself thinking how some things never change.
I cleared my throat as I unwrapped my scarf, hanging it over my coat. “Well, I would say thank you for helping me, but since you really didn’t help as much as you forced me against my will into your house…”
“I saved you from hypothermia,” he grunted back. “So yeah, you’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes.
The sooner I get out of here, the better.
“I would have just called Daddy, if there was any damn cell service on this road,” I said, pulling my phone from my back pocket and sliding my thumb over the screen to unlock it. “If you just give me your WiFi password, I can text him and be on my way.”
“I don’t have one.”
I peeled my eyes away from my phone screen where I’d been ready to connect after verifying that, as suspected, I had zero bars of service. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Sparrow,” he said, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter and taking a sip of his beer. I used to adore that little nickname, but it only made me glare at him now. “No WiFi.”