Anderson laughed, his knuckles finding my chin and tilting it up toward him. “Hey, it’s okay. My mind has been racing, too.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirmed. “I don’t know what we’re doing either, Wren. I don’t. I wish I had all the answers. But, I can tell you this.” He searched my eyes, hand sliding up until his thumb brushed my ear and his fingers cradled my neck. “I’m into you. Last night wasn’t about sex, even though that was incredible. I like talking to you, I like listening to you, and I want to spend more time with you. I know you’re going through your own struggles, and so am I, but I also think we want to be around each other. And for now, that’s enough for me.”
“So you’re coming back tomorrow?”
He smiled. “Eight o’clock on the dot.”
My eyes fluttered closed and I sighed, annoyed at myself but relieved all at once. “I’m sorry,” I said, opening my eyes again to focus on his. “I swear I’m not crazy. I just needed to hear it, I needed to hear that we were on the same page.”
“And are we?”
This time I laughed. “I think so. Everything you said is exactly how I feel, so I guess we’ll just figure the rest out as we go, huh?”
“Sounds like the most logical thing to do.”
He pulled me into him, kissing my forehead sweetly before pulling back again. “Go get some sleep. I promise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for how you feel.”
I paused at that, because I realized that was exactly what I’d been doing for so long now it almost felt natural.
“Sorry.”
He cocked an eyebrow and I laughed, pecking his lips before skipping down his steps and down the drive.
“See you tomorrow!” I called out behind me, and the rest of the walk home I had an immovable smile in place.
So we didn’t have all the details worked out, did it really matter? We wanted to know more about each other, we wanted to explore—both bodies and minds. The feelings were mutual, and that felt like enough.
Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?
After that, my hands did a lot less work on the house and a lot more work on Wren.
I was still there, damn near every day, fixing the floorboards and mending the stove. I was still chopping firewood, cleaning and curing the hot tub, and even helping her make wooden signs for the pig roast. But she was more of a distraction now, and I was less inclined to resist her.
She’d pass the mornings at her sewing machine, working on my tattered clothes I should have trashed years ago while I dirtied the ones I wore crawling around on her floor. In the afternoons, she’d sketch in her notebook on the front porch while I worked in the yard. We didn’t overanalyze the nights we spent in her bed. We took longer lunches, talking more, working less—and laughing.
We laughed so much.
Wren was goofy, and she always found new ways to make me smile. I loved her energy, her wit, her unapologetic approach to everything in her life. For the first few days, I’d leave her place in a trance, wondering what it was that was coming over me. I smiled all the time, even when I was alone in my own cabin. I sang 90’s songs I hadn’t thought about in two decades. I researched fashion on my phone before I went to sleep so I could have more meaningful conversations with her about her passion. And she was making me think about my passion, too. All of it was so foreign to me that I couldn’t even begin to figure out what I was feeling.
It wasn’t until a full two weeks had passed that I realized it.
I felt alive.
Not alive in the sense that I could breathe, or that I got up out of bed every morning and somehow made it through another day. No, I felt alive—like there was something to live for.
And if I thought we had eyes on us before, it was nothing compared to what we dealt with now.
A few days after the anniversary of Dani’s death, Momma Von had a barbecue at her cabin. When I’d walked in with Wren, it was like a symphony of jaw drops, one falling after the other until they all hung wide open. It was weird, and I mostly kept to myself or talked to Davie or old man Ron. But the more we hung out with the crew, with the people who used to be my best friends, the more comfortable I became. It wasn’t so much a chore anymore. I looked forward to Sundays spent drinking beers by the river or riding our bikes around Alder loop.
Still, my favorite nights were the ones spent with Wren. Nights when we’d lounge by the fire, her head in my lap as she told me about her favorite things in the world or the history of her boutique and the designs she’d brought to life over the years.
I hadn’t realized how big of a deal she was. Hell, the truth was I had absolutely no idea who she was at all. But after talking to her more, I’d asked Momma Von if she’d ever heard of her before. Julie had been over at her cabin and told me all about Wren, about her unique eye, her gift for feminizing women with smaller frames and slight curves. I didn’t know anything about clothes, but I knew this: Wren impressed me.
Sometimes, when the mood was right, we’d open up like we did that first night together. She’d show me a wound on her heart left by the man who last held it, and I’d show her the bruises on mine left from a death seven years old yet still too fresh to scab. Sometimes we fucked, hard and fast, with her pinned against the wall or riding me like she was meant for it—but not on those nights. No, the nights we opened ourselves, those were the nights we touched each other just to feel grounded again, to numb our pain and set it on fire all at once.
I talked, too, on the nights we spent together. I learned over time that I actually had a lot to say. Not just about Dani, though she was frequently brought up in our conversations, but about things I hadn’t thought about in years—like my dreams, my aspirations, the things that made me happy. I was thinking again, wondering, feeling.
It never even occurred to me to stop and ask myself how long that happiness could really last.
“What were your parents like?” Wren asked one night after we’d finished dinner. Her feet were propped up on the coffee table and I held her under one arm, our eyes on the fire slowly burning in front of us. I’d fixed the stove door and a few logs burned much longer now. It was getting hotter, some nights she didn’t even need the fire at all, but tonight it was cool, thanks to the low clouds and rain that had hung around all day.
“Honestly, I don’t really remember,” I answered, searching my memories. “My dad didn’t stay long enough for my umbilical cord to fall off and my mom left me here with Aunt Rose not too long after my fifth birthday.”
I shrugged, not really feeling any kind of emotion toward that fact. I used to, but now it was almost like saying it was raining outside. Just a matter of fact—no more, no less.
“I look a lot like her, I know that,” I continued. “I’ve seen pictures. She has dark hair and the same blue eyes as me. And I’ve heard my irresponsible side comes from my father. Which makes sense, I guess.”
Wren snorted. “Oh, sure. You. Irresponsible.”
“Trust me, before Dani died, I was. I had no regard for the people around me, even if I loved them. I did stupid shit because it was fun. That was about as far as my thought process went—will this be fun? If the answer was yes, then I did it.”
“So why did that change?”
I shifted, uncrossing my feet under the coffee table and crossing them the other way. I wasn’t ready to go there—not yet.
“What about you?” I asked instead. “Were you close with your parents?”
Wren leaned forward, tucking her legs underneath her so she could face me where we sat on the couch. She eyed me for a moment, but didn’t press.
We had a deal.
When one of us didn’t want to talk anymore, when it was too hard, we just changed the subject—and the other one let it happen. It was an understanding, one I didn’t realize I needed so desperately.
“If by close you
mean we had the same address for eighteen years of my life, then yes.” She chuckled at her own joke, leaning her cheek against the heel of her hand on the back of the couch. “I don’t know. My dad and I never really talked much. He worked all the time and we didn’t have much in common. Mom and I were closer when I was younger, but when I got really into fashion and started throwing myself into sketching and sewing, she didn’t understand. She thought it was a waste of time, and when I went to her in tears the first night I realized I didn’t want to be with Keith anymore, she chastised me for putting my little hobby above my husband.”
“That’s fucked up.”
She shrugged, seemingly as numb to her parents as I was to mine. “She didn’t mean it as maliciously as it came out. That’s just really how she feels. My grandma cooked all night and day for grandpa and his harvest crew out in Kansas. When Mom married my dad, she fell into her own role as a wife; hosting parties for Dad’s clients, taking care of his books before he had the money to hire someone else to do it, running charities when that became important to the business.”
Wren chewed her bottom lip before continuing.
“I don’t know, Anderson. In a way, I kind of envy that. Her and my dad’s roles in their marriage have always been so clearly defined. I never had that with Keith. We just both went after what we wanted and loved each other. That was enough for me, it was what I wanted. But it hadn’t been what he wanted. I didn’t realize once he married me that I needed to change, so I didn’t. And to be fair, I don’t think he realized what he wanted was different until after the wedding, either. At the end of the day, we just grew apart, I guess.”
I nodded, not really understanding fully, though I tried. I had never been married, never even been in a real relationship. I’d had girls in my bed, and in my truck, and in many other places in town—but I’d never been interested in investing more than a night or two in any of them. Sarah had been my most consistent, but only because she was the same kind of crazy as I was back then. We worked. At least, when I was younger.
Wren yawned and I smiled, reaching for her hips and pulling her to straddle me. I kissed her hard, fingertips hooking into the loops on her jean shorts and tugging her closer. “I like these.”
“Yeah?” she asked, sitting back and looking down at the tattered ends of the shorts as they splayed on her thighs. “I didn’t really bring any shorts that made sense for hiking, so I hacked up a pair of my favorite designer jeans.”
My brows shot up. “Did you cry while you did it?”
“No,” she said on a laugh. “Actually, it was kind of... freeing. Like shedding a bit of the old me, you know?”
I nodded, and for a moment I just watched her, searching her big green eyes for the layers beneath them I’d yet to uncover. She seemed to be watching me, too.
At least, until she yawned again.
“I should let you get some sleep,” I said, but my lips were on hers again, fingers still looped in her jean shorts.
“You’re not kissing me like you plan to leave,” she argued, teeth nipping at my bottom lip before she rolled her hips against me.
I groaned, wrapping my arms around her waist to hold her in place so I could think clearly.
“You have an early morning with Momma Von,” I reminded her. “And I promised old man Ron I’d be under his truck by sunrise.”
Wren scoffed, sitting back but keeping her arms linked around my neck. “You did no such thing. Ron probably doesn’t even know you’re coming.”
“Go to bed, woman.” I smacked her ass playfully and she yelped, laughing and locking her lips on mine as I stood. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I let her, carrying her into the kitchen and reaching blindly for my wallet and keys on the kitchen counter as one arm held her safely in place. Slowly, I lowered her to the ground, kissing the tip of her nose once before reaching behind me for the door knob. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
She watched me with a mischievous smile as I backed out onto her porch. “Save some energy for me.”
I groaned, wondering if I really needed to leave or if I should just push her back inside and take her right there in her kitchen. “Yes, ma’am.”
Wren didn’t leave her doorway until I rounded the edge of her drive. Only then did she tuck back inside and lock the door behind her. I shook my head, a grin too big for my face firmly in place as I walked back to my cabin. It felt permanent, a new carving in the stone I’d built up around me for so long, but it fell quickly when I saw Sarah on my porch.
I knew by the way she stood that she’d come for a fight. One hip was popped out, the boot on her left foot propped up against the stair railing. She kept her arms crossed as I climbed the stairs to where she stood, then she unhooked one arm, revealing a small silver flask in her hand. She tilted it toward me and any doubt I had about her intentions disappeared.
She was definitely here to start trouble.
“What do you want, Sarah,” I said, not even asking as a real question. I moved past where she stood, ignoring her flask offering and unlocking the front door. She took a step as if she was about to follow me inside but I propped a hand hard on the frame, blocking her entry. Her head snapped back, blonde ponytail swinging, glazed eyes looking up into mine. I just lifted one brow, waiting.
“You’re home late.”
“I was busy.”
“I bet you were,” she said on a sharp laugh. “Looks like she didn’t finish the job though, seeing as how you’re home so early. Why don’t you let me inside? I can remind you what it feels like to sleep with a woman who knows everything you like.”
She stepped closer, fingers running the length of her neck as she licked her lips. The younger me would have loved it. The me who existed now was supremely annoyed.
My jaw hardened and I kept my eyes trained on her face. “I have an early morning.”
“So another night, then?”
“Just stop, Sarah,” I snapped, exasperated. “I don’t have time for this shit.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, but you have time to play house with Fashion Barbie?” She scoffed, lips wrapping around the mouth of her flask before she tucked it into her back pocket and squared her shoulders toward me again. “What are you even doing with her, Rev?”
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t.”
“Sorry,” Sarah said quickly, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Anderson. But seriously, why after all these years of shutting out everyone who loves you, you’re choosing to open up to some girl running from her problems for a summer? How is this going to help you in any way?”
“I don’t really see how it’s your business. Goodnight,” I clipped, but her hand caught the door before I could shut it.
“But it is my business. Because in a little over a month she’ll be gone, and I’ll still be here. All of us—Davie, Yvette, Momma Von—we’re the ones who will have to kick through even thicker walls to try to reach our friend.” Her eyes softened, pleading with mine.
I looked away, but a knot tightened in my throat.
“I’m a big boy,” I reminded her. “And no one asked any of you to try to kick through any walls.”
Sarah watched me for a moment, and then she laughed, dropping her hold on the door. “Well, that’s the thing about family. We’re here even when you don’t ask us to be.” She stepped back, turning for the stairs and reaching into her back pocket once more. When she paused at the top step, she glanced back at me. “She’s going to leave, Anderson. Her home is in the city, and not even a year ago she was married to another man. Just keep that in your big boy mind, okay?”
With that, she stomped down the stairs and I slammed the door, flicking the lock as soon as it shut. It didn’t matter how hot I ran the water in the shower or how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t wash her words away.
She was right, that was the worst part.
What did I really expect? I was a rebound for Wren, a distraction, and I’d told myself that’s all she was for me, too. We’d agreed that
we were both okay for the time being, and that the rest could be figured out later.
But every night I showed her my scars, every day she let me taste hers, and every minute I ignored the warning bells because I didn’t want to hear them. Not now, maybe not ever.
For two weeks I’d let myself exist in a clouded bliss, but now the fog had cleared and I realized I was standing on a rocky island surrounded by choppy waters with no way off. If I didn’t want to die here, I needed to start building a bridge.
And so when my head hit the pillow, I put the first board over my heart.
But I couldn’t find the will to nail it into place.
EFFULGENCE
ef·ful·gence
Noun
Radiant splendor: brilliance
“Come on, youngins! Keep up!” Momma Von called behind her as she stepped up and over another rock. She laughed when Ron grunted from the back of the group and I couldn’t help but smile, too.
Everything was just so good.
It was a perfectly warm day, mid-seventies with a shining sun and scarce clouds. Of course we were high enough into the hike now that we were completely shaded by the tall pines, the sun shining through them in diamond rays that warmed my shoulders as we climbed. It was magical, climbing over small waterfalls and babbling brooks, forestry thick all around us. Under the trees, the temperature was at least ten degrees cooler, but a slight sheen of sweat had formed on my neck.
“Remind me again why we’re even out here,” Sarah said with a sigh, clearly bored.
“Because sometimes it’s good to work off all those beers we drink,” Tucker answered. “Plus, Wren’s never been out here. Can’t stay out in Gold Bar without a trip to the Haybrook Lookout Tower.”
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