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But he didn’t leave fast enough to hide the tear that was rolling down his cheek.
Chapter Fifteen
Seth
Ican’t stand the way I left things with Jenna last night, but I also can’t talk about it, so instead I endured a night of little to no sleep and replayed old memories I thought I’d buried a long time ago. Then I got out of bed before the sun had done so, force fed myself a bowl of cereal, and took a brisk walk through the woods surrounding my house. It’s not cold out, but it might as well be with the frosty emotions I’m feeling after last night.
That song.
It’s been eleven years since I’ve heard that song, and believe me, it’s intentional. I don’t have a problem with any other song, love or not, and Jenna’s playlist just had to playthatone? If it was God trying to tell me something, I’m not interested in the message. I trust that there is a God who does care.
I just don’t appreciate when he crosses boundaries I don’t intend to have crossed.
Today’s my second day off of three, but I don’t have anything planned until lunch with my sister and then renovations with the kids and Jenna from six to seven. It’s not much time, but a little is better than nothing. That said, it’s only a few minutes past seven in the morning. I will go completely stir crazy if I’m forced to stay at my house until I meet Jess downtown at noon.
I know it probably seems strange to have the desire to work when I’m off, but I’ve done it before. I’m almost ready to reach for my gun belt and head out the door to go into the station when my phone alerts me of an incoming text. I’m tempted to leave the device laying on my bed and go without it because I’m not sure I’m ready for a text from Jenna. She deserves an explanation, yes, but unfortunately, I just don’t have one. Of course, there are plenty of other people it might be—some days I wish I had a designated work phone—but it alsocouldbe Jenna.
I’m not about to actually leave it here, though, so I put my belt on and take a deep breath before I made myself look at the message.
Wynn: Do you have time to meet at Cozy & Grounds for a little while? Thought I’d check in with the project.
I narrow my eyes at my phone. He doesn’t need an update; he was at Marie’s less than twelve hours ago. But I do need someone to talk to, and aside from John or my sister, Wynn has always been one of my closest friends. Besides, I’ll see Jess in a few hours. I’m not in the mood this morning for heckling from her yet.
Grateful for a time filler before going to the station, I tell Wynn I can be there in ten and then head out. I purposely take the longer way into town this morning for two reasons: because I’m craving nature today and this way is more scenic with the lake on my left than plain cornfields, and because it’s an easy way to do a quick browse of the neighborhood I have to drive through. There’s rarely any trouble among the houses and they’re all nice homes, but it never hurts to be proactive. Just because someone has enough money to have a million-dollar home on the postcard-perfect shoreline of Falls Lake doesn’t mean their life is all in order.
My aunt, though her estate is on the golf course a few miles off the lake, is living proof that money cannot, indeed, provide true happiness.
Everything appears to be normal—though I’m not sure there’s any such thing—as I exit the neighborhood and turn onto Main Street. I pause to allow some pedestrians to cross and offer what feels like an extremely forced smile to an older woman I don’t recognize as I hold the door to the coffee shop open for her. I’m so out of it this morning that I literally don’t even react when the woman, probably ninety, pats my chest on her way by, her palm lingering unnecessarily on my right pec. Usually, a walk and the long drive helps shake me from unwanted moods, but clearly that’s not the case today.
I bypass the order counter—a cinnamon roll doesn’t even sound good today—and go directly over to the table Wynn’s already seated at. It’s in the far corner but up against the windows, and it’s where we always sit. By now Wynn knows I like to keep an eye on my surroundings, and my spot allows me to see the whole interior of the establishment plus Main Street. It’s the little things that make a friendship a relationship.
Wynn eyes me over the rim of his mug as I sit down. “I thought you didn’t have to work today.”
“I don’t.”
“Ah.” I’m annoyed at the insulting way that simpleahmakes me squirm. Wynn sets his mug down slowly, every one of his movements thought-out and methodical, just like his father. “You’re going into work on a day when you’re off, and you look like crap, which means you probably didn’t sleep much. I take it you had a bad night?”
If this were a movie and I had a glass of whiskey in front of me, this is where I’d down it in one gulp. “Why don’t you just say it like it is?” I mutter instead, because this is not a movie, and I don’t have a glass of whiskey.
“All right, that’s a yes. I’ll bite.” He leans back in his chair, hands resting on the table. It’s been almost a year since the wedding and the man still touches his black wedding band like it’s brand new. “What happened?”
This is where it gets tricky. I can’t exactly say anything like“Well, I was at Jenna’s last night and we were working on a reward system for the teens when the song I used to dance to with Sierra came on from her playlist of love songs and I freaked out and left with no explanation.”
One, because I just don’t describe things like that, and two, it would open a can of worms I could care less about going fishing with. I’ve never told anyone about Sierra. I don’t want to. She’s part of my past, not my present or future. The words she said the last time I saw her, however, might as well be tattooed on my arm.
“I’m not interested in discussing it.” I adjust the napkin holder—which was made from recycled wood and metal—so it’s perpendicular to the window.
“Oh, yeah, like I’m gonna let you off the hook so easily. Look, man, I don’t know what’s wrong, but you didn’t even order a cinnamon roll. That right there is like the red flag of all red flags. It’s like the memes Ember sends in our family group chat with red flags, only supersized from that.”
Shoot. I should’ve ordered my usual, if for no other reason than that this conversation could’ve been avoided. Or at least kind of. I have a feeling Wynn still would’ve picked up on my sour demeanor, cinnamon roll or no cinnamon roll. His perceptiveness is both a blessing and a curse, depending on the day.
“I just…didn’t handle a situation very well last night,” I say carefully, pleased that none of what I said was a lie. It’s true—Ididn’thandle last night well. I don’t have to provide details to admit that. “About the project…did you really want an update? You were there less than twelve hours ago.”
Wynn chuckles. “I’d like to hear from you how you think it’s going, yes, but that’s not the only reason I asked to meet. We just haven’t done this for a little while—”
“It’s only been a couple weeks.”
“—and I guess I felt like maybe you needed to talk.” He hides a cough behind a sip of tea. “And I was right.”
