Someday.
Maybe.
“I don’t believe you,” she says softly. “And I hate seeing you sad.”
“I’m processing. Why are you even here?”
“Everyone keeps saying how adorable you two were last night. You didn’t come home and I wanted details.” She rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”
“Well, you got them.”
Wren looks unconvinced, so I force a smile that’s more accurately a grimace, causing her eyebrows to slowly climb up her forehead. “Telling me you’re processing when he’s been an asshole isn’t giving me details.”
“Because I’m still in the processing process,” I say, annoyed, even though I’m just fucking hurt and it feels like I’m currently bleeding out on the Santa rug I insisted on putting in here.
“Well, the offer is always on the table.”
“For murder?”
“Discarding undeserving persons.” I snort and her lips kick up in the corner before she squeezes my hand. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I wait for her to leave so I can lick my wounds in private, but she only rolls her lips inward.
“I have to go and pick up the smoker dad had custom made for the lodge. The guy called and said it’s ready finally. He told me to take you.”
“Of course he did…”
There’s not a cell in my body that wants to drive for hours anywhere today. Honestly, the only thing keeping me remotely upright is the fact that I’d seen the pain in Harlan’s eyes as he’d delivered each blow. His face might have been impassive, but his gaze had been full of anguish.
He was hurting, so he hurtme.
But why?
I want to scream, but my internal freakout is interrupted by Wren’s sympathetic voice.
“I’ll drive and we can get hot chocolate for the road,” she says, trying to cheer me up, but all I can do is grimace.
“He might have ruined hot chocolate forever.”
She gasps and she’s not being dramatic.
We live for this season—the first sign of cold and we pull out sweaters, blankets, and stock up on marshmallows.
But I can’t stomach the thought of any of that right now.
“I don’t want to talk about this on the ride, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers, holding out her hand and waiting for me to take it. When I do, she pulls me into her arms and holds me tight, a tear sliding down my cheek as my eyelids flutter shut.
I’d let myself fall for a man I knew deep down was unavailable.
Temporary.
So, I wasn’t innocent in all this either. I knew better, and now I just have to pray I don’t make the same mistake again.
18
