AllFreeNovel
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There’s a rhythm to chopping wood, a primal satisfaction in the act. With every thwack, some of the snow descends on top of us. When we were younger, we made a game out of it, but we hadn’t played like that in years until the snowball fight with Susan. It’s almost like she brings out the child in us.
I look around to see my brothers with soft smiles on their lips. They’re obviously thinking the same thing.
I have the urge to take my jacket off, but I know it’s just a fluke. I got a bad case of frostbite years ago when Dad made me go outside in nothing but overalls.
The memory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I shake myself out of it. He’s long gone, but sometimes I think his ghost still lingers, haunting my brothers and me. It’s especially hard on Ed since he was the closest to him. Ed would never admit to this, but I suspect the way Dad dug his claws into Ed fundamentally changed him. He’s never been the same since.
As we swing our axes in unison, the wood splits apart, releasing the scent of freshly cut timber. In the midst of the physical exertion, our conversation naturally shifts toward lighter topics.
“You know, guys,” I say, my voice laced with enthusiasm, “I think it would be a great idea to take Susan out on a date. We’ve been through a lot together, and it’s time to show her how much we appreciate her.”
Ed nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right, Ollie. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions, and I think a night out would be a good way to reconnect.”
I can tell he still feels guilty about what happened yesterday. Things kind of escalated, and I was so afraid that Susan would walk out. That she would just leave us, like our mom did years ago.
Thankfully, Ed found his sense in the last second, and Susan found it in herself to forgive him. It was unfair bringing up what happened before the snowstorm. The truth is, I feel like a fundamentally different person now, and I know my brothers feel the same.
Artie joins in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I agree. We owe it to her after the tension earlier. It’s a chance to make new memories and remind her of the bond we share.”
As we continue chopping wood, our conversation drifts to the planning. We discuss potential venues, considering the limited options in the small town. The local pub and a quaint restaurant emerge as the front-runners, and we weigh the pros and cons of each.
Internally, I can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Taking Susan out on a date feels like a step toward solidifying the connection we’ve developed. It’s no longer just the four of us, trapped in a snowstorm. Other people are going to be there, and knowing Wishing, there are going to be a lot of questions. I’m no stranger to sexual adventures, but I’m still feeling a little apprehensive. How do we define whatever is happening between us?
I begin to chop the logs we brought in from outside. Artie and Ed grab the logs and stack them neatly by the fireplace. It’s important to keep them dry; otherwise, they won’t light later. That’s why we bring in the logs immediately after getting them cut, to ensure they remain dry.
With the wood chopped and stacked, we pause for a moment, wiping the sweat from our brows.
“How many places are we hitting today?” I ask.
“Well, we haven’t been to town for more than two weeks,” Ed says.
“Wow, has it really been that long?” Artie says, shaking his head.
“To me, it almost seems like a lifetime,” I say.
Ed nods, agreeing.
“Our regulars are obviously waiting, and the storm must have depleted their stock. I’m estimating at least twenty,” Ed says. “I’ll text everyone to let them know we’re coming.”
“Artie can text Ronnie,” I tease.
“Who’s Ronnie?” Susan asks, coming around. She has a slight mustard stain on the apron she’s wearing, and I can tell she’s making us one of her special sandwiches. She looks so adorable and homely, a far cry from the city girl we found in Artie’s bathtub.
“Are we still on that?” Artie says, rolling his eyes.
I grin. “Artie favors the elderly.”
Susan looks confused while Artie punches me in my side. “Come on, let’s go, we still haven’t brought in all the logs. We don’t want them to get soggy because of you.”
“Fine, fine, I’m coming,” I say.
Once we sort through the logs, we’ll pile them separately—the good ones and the slightly rotting ones, which we throw away or sell for dirt cheap.
As we continue with our morning routine, a nagging thought creeps into my mind. What will the people in Wishing think of our relationship with Susan? This small town is known for its tight-knit community, and I can’t help but wonder if our unconventional dynamics will raise eyebrows or invite judgment.
I glance at Artie and Ed, wondering if they share the same concerns. We’ve always been close and supportive of one another, but this situation is uncharted territory. Our connection with Susan is both exhilarating and fragile, and the opinions of others could potentially shake the delicate balance we’ve found.
As we finish our breakfast, I make a silent promise to myself. I won’t let fear of judgment overshadow the connection we’ve forged.
