“I am happy.”
“Are you?”
The wind pulls at her corkscrew curls, whipping them back from her face.
“Yes, I am.”
“What about Jack?” she asks, and the question is so out of left field that I repeat it back to her. She shakes her head. “I saw you guys together yesterday, Stevie. I saw the way you looked at him at Matty’s. You like him. You want him. But you’re never going to let yourself have him.”
I’m speechless for a moment, but I don’t know why. Wren knows me better than anyone; of course she noticed the feelings I was harboring for him before I did.
“We’re friends. And besides, he’s leaving. It can’t go anywhere.”
“Youcould.”
“Wren, my life is here. I’m not upheaving it for a guy.”
She shakes her head, jaw tensing, and tightens her arms around her middle.
“What?” I ask.
She only shakes her head again. “Nothing.”
“No, what?”
Her blue eyes fix on mine. “Nothing, Stevie.”
I let out a huff of air, defensiveness straightening my spine. “Tell me.”
“What life?” she explodes, and the words hit me like bricks. “You have no life here. You have nothing.”
I rear back, skin bristling, and she finally seems to notice the way what she’s saying is affecting me. Her face changes, slipping into remorse, but I’m already backing up.
“Stevie, I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have—”
I hold a hand up, cutting her off. I’m not sure how I’m able to speak over the lump forming in my throat. “I’m leaving. We can talk about this later.”
I’m not angry enough to think we won’t work through this, but I’m hurt enough to not want to talk to her right now, to have her try to explain away what she said. Not when my skin feels stretched too thin and my throat feels raw. My stomach hollow. In fact, all of me feels hollow.
“Stevie, I’m sorry,” Wren repeats, and I can tell she feels guilty, that she regrets what she said. That she wishes she could take it back. But that's the thing about words, once they’re out, they’re impossible to stuff back inside. “Can we please talk?”
I shake my head. “I’m going to go.”
Her chin dips in a nod, and she crosses her arms more tightly around her. This time, not out of anger, but like she’s comforting herself.
But the thing is, when she goes back in through her front door, Holden can comfort her. When I leave, I’m alone.
And that stings more than it usually would.
Steviedoesn’tcomehomeall day. She left after our conversation this morning, just as I was getting out of the shower, and I’ve busied myself throughout the day, but now that the afternoon is quickly approaching evening, I can’t distract myself anymore.
I’m not sure where I’m headed when I get in my car, but a few minutes later, I’m turning onto the road that leads to Stevie’s property. I don’t know if she’s there, but I’m realizing there’s not really anywhere I want to be in town without her. I’m so damn screwed.
My heart gallops faster in my chest when I see her truck parked at the end of her long driveway. I expect her to be working inside, but instead, she’s sitting in a chair out front, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
She doesn’t react when she sees me, and when I put the car in park, I notice the expression on her face. She looks devastated, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m hopping out of the car, crossing the distance between us in large strides.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
