Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last
Page 27
I ran my hands through the front of my hair, pulling it back so tight I felt a twinge of pain as it stretched and pulled from my temples. In a strange way, feeling the pain shoot through my scalp gave me a moment of clemency. The cold air had taken over any warmth as it started to snow. This was an evening I should be home with my family, sitting Shiva after burying my father; instead I stood desolate.
I had to talk myself into taking the first step, my feet heavier than ever before. I stepped forward on the wet, frosty driveway, and every ounce of fight disappeared. I could feel the soles of my boots shift as my toes crowded the tops. My head pounded with images of why I should walk away, and yet my heart thundered in my chest with every reason I should keep going. I wished the steam from my breath would carry my words for me so I wouldn’t have to say anything.
Every stride became demanding as I climbed the steps to the porch. I tried to visualize bursting into the cabin, snatching Wilson in my arms, and kissing her so intensely that she’d never question my love for her ever again. Then she’d see that I don’t just walk away when things get tough. But the thoughts of her being comforted by Nick stopped me in my tracks. I stood watching the warm glow of light pouring through the glass of the front door. I stared at my hand as I clutched the frigid knob and wondered if, by opening it, I’d be stepping into a situation that would heal my heart or shatter it completely.
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