AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That’s awesome, dude.” We high-five, Jamie smiling shyly, the way she always looks when she’s newly crushing on someone. It’s adorable.
“So I’ll go grab some? TP?”
She blinks, then frowns. “You want to? Dad could call someone.”
A delivery person. That’s what she means. Her parents call them any time we need something up here—sometimes in the middle of the night, even. “Nah. I’m in the mood to get out.”
“Are you stewing?”
I hold both hands up and walk backward. I can’t help smiling, probably guiltily. “Later, lovahhh.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Get the Cottonelle. You know how Dad is! Take his car, too.”
“Yessir!”
Downstairs, the house is quiet. Jamie’s parents are asleep. The family cocker spaniel, Bruno Mars, is curled up underneath the granite counter in a little red dog bed. Her ear twitches when I grab Mr. Madison’s keys off the hook beside the fridge. I know they’re his because they have a Wheaton keychain attached. I stare down at it for a second, then notice I left my jacket upstairs in the bathroom. Classic.
I smile ruefully at my adopted scarf.
Barrett. Jamie didn’t remember his name, but I did.
I need to take the damn scarf off and give it to Nic.
Later.
For now, I decide to go full-on Mr. Madison and borrow his long, black down coat in addition to his SUV. I pull on my tall snow boots, lace them tightly, and admire the way his coat falls all the way down to my shoe soles. At least I won’t be cold.
Outside, the porch stairs are slick and gritty with salt. Which is better than icy and snowy. Mr. Carmallo usually keeps the stairs and walk meticulously ice-free. Him or his wife. They live in a guest house behind the main house and keep the place up when the Madisons are elsewhere.
I walk slowly down the stairs and down the curving stone walk toward the driveway. Snow’s still falling, landing coolly on my cheeks and scalp. The driveway hasn’t been plowed in a few hours, so as I hit the “unlock” key on Mr. M’s keyring, my boots squeak on the fine powder.
The inky black Lexus LS looks meticulous inside, save for a folded copy of yesterday’s Wall Street Journal and the lingering scent of stale coffee. I grab the window scraper from the glove box, cleaning off the windshield as the defrost aids me from the inside, then folding down the windshield wipers. People in these parts leave them raised up off the windshield like this, I guess to keep them from freezing to the glass.
By the time I get back in, my seat is warm. The vents are blowing warm, coffee-scented air.
I fold my stolen scarf over my mouth and nose. As I back out, I inhale deeply.
So—I’m miserable.
That’s the truth of things. That’s my New Year’s secret.
As I drive toward the little general store a half a mile away, I allow myself a moment to imagine the man’s big, strong hands on my body. The way his fingers might feel stroking the soft skin of my throat. The way his beard would tickle the inside of my thighs.
I wonder if he’d love me well.
I tell myself he would. The snow pours down, a thick white curtain out in front of me, and I think it’s a shame I never realized sooner: Elvie doesn’t love me. I’m not sure he can.
That’s what’s been missing. Not just love—the possibility of finding it. I won’t, not with Elvie. But he’s comfortable. Elvie is easy. Warm and cozy.
What I need is fresh—and cold. A new start. Scary.
I say a silent prayer that I’m brave enough to change.
BARRETT
