“You did so good,” I hear him say. My eyes won’t stay focused as I stare at the destroyed mattress. Still, I nod. There is nothing more to do. Nothing more to say. “Do you feel better? Ah—” I blink and turn my head when Rus tenses. He’s brushing over a small cut on my hand. “You hurt yourself,” he mutters, turning it to check for other wounds.

  “M-Must’ve been the sp-springs,” I manage to stutter out. I’m still a quivering mess, but when I look past all that, there is a kind of relief rising from somewhere deep, deep in my core. Does Russell feel it too? As he places a comforting kiss on the side of my neck while cupping my hands in his, I think he does.

  “One more step. If you’re ready. If that is how you want to end it,” he says.

  I nod, letting him guide me to my feet. I feel exhausted. Like I’ve stabbed a thousand mattresses to death, not just one, but I can do this.

  I have to finish it.

  Rus is bending down for a small jerrycan of kerosene when I turn around. Straightening his arm out, he hands it to me, then swiftly pulls a metal flip lighter out of his pocket. He shows it to me with a determined smile, his gaze firm and fiery.

  “A-Are you sure?” I ask him, glancing around. The snow will most certainly prevent the fire from getting out of control, but we’re talking about a huge pile. The mattress, a ton of broken wood, even her blanket and pillows are there.

  Rus steps in, eyes fixed on me. His hand, still so warm and big and comforting, squeezes mine over the jerrycan’s handle. “If this is what you want, I think you should do it. It’s safe—we’re far enough from the house and the snow ain’t gonna catch on fire. Don’t think about anything else. Is this what you want?” he asks again, still so damn thoughtful and supportive, and I…I just clench my teeth, nodding sharply as tears run down my cheeks.

  Yeah, I want it. Fuck, I want nothing more than to burn it all to the ground. The mere idea makes me want to throw up from relief.

  So I do it. No more fear. No more doubt.

  With Rus next to me, I pour the kerosene onto the mattress. I walk around it, making sure to cover it all, and the wood as well. I kick her blanket on top, drizzling some extra fluid over, before I drop the jerrycan to the side. Drawing in deep, slow breaths to keep myself steady, I take hold of the lighter Rus is handing me. His pheromones filter in with the crisp winter air, smoothing away the edges of my fear.

  What she did… While this can’t change or erase it, I won’t let it hold power over me anymore.

  I open the lighter and flick it to life.

  I’m going to get help, and I’m going to get through this.

  Leaning forward, I touch the flame to the glistening surface of the mattress, and it all goes up in a wave of heat. The red glow spreads across the shredded fabric, fanning out so quickly I have to jump away. Rus is right behind me to hold on to me, his hands gently squeezing my shoulders.

  We silently watch the flames engulf everything—wood and cloth and bitter memories—and rise high into the air. It’s warm. Warm and soft and peaceful, in stark contrast to what I just did, what I just felt. I take in the sight, the sound of the crackling fire as it purifies it all. The thick smell of smoke erases the scent of her pheromones…until there’s nothing left.

  As the column of dark smoke rises and disappears into the sky, my heartbeat slows. My chest lightens.

  She’ll never be able to take this, or anything else, away from me again.

  “Thank you, Russell,” I say after what feels like hours of us just standing in front of the funeral pyre of my darkest moments, hoping to convey the deep, life-changing gratitude I feel, even if I don’t think I’ll ever be capable of truly putting it into words.

  Rus sniffles before pulling me in for a kiss that says it all. The warm glow of the flames makes his lips taste toasty and soothing.

  “I’m goin’ to miss you,” he whispers after we pull apart.

  My heart might as well actually shatter hearing those words.

  The pain paralyzes me, drawing all the comforting heat out of my body. Gulping, I rest my forehead against his and close my eyes, determined to ignore the harsh reality for a little while longer. If I do that, if I don’t look at him, I don’t have to think about what’s inevitably happening later today.

  I don’t have to say it back.

  Rus knows it too.

  We stand there together for a while. Silent, still, soaking in the last moments of the closeness and comfort until we’ll be forced to part.

  It’s not fair…how much it hurts. And it isn’t rational or realistic, but it hurts all the same.

  Chapter 14

  Russell

  I stand a few steps away from the tow truck, hands in my pockets, while Andy Johnson and Wren circle his car. Andy made quick work of pulling it back up onto the road. Apparently, there’s no serious damage besides a slightly dented front bumper, side mirror, and bent license plate. Which means that Wren is free to drive home.

  And I hate that. I hate how much I hate that.

  I hate how damn needy I feel. I want to pull him close to me and tell him to stay. Order him. Beg him. All day I’ve been secretly wishing that the car would slide further down the hill or that Andy wouldn’t make it here at all.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I know he can’t stay. Rationally, it makes no sense. None of what we’ve gone through makes any sense. But even Wren looks sad, glancing at me from his car, all the brightness I’ve seen in him these last few days completely muted.

  Andy comes up to him, shaking his hand for goodbye. The other two younger guys who work with him are already waiting inside his truck. They’re busy all over the mountain, from what they said, so we’re lucky they even turned up and pulled Wren’s car out before it gets dark.

  “Thanks a lot,” Wren says.

  I approach them. “I really appreciate you moving that tree out of the way for me,” I add, giving Andy an appreciative nod. I’ll need to clear and cut so the delivery trucks can get here, but at least Andy managed to drag it to the side, so it’s not smack in the middle of the road.

  “No trouble,” he says before jumping into his truck and driving away.

  Wren and I are left outside in silence. Standing. Waiting. Stalling…

  The snow has melted a lot today, but there’s still plenty of it. I try to burn his face into my memory with that magical white backdrop and the way the sun reflects on his hair.

  Like he’s as unwilling to take the last step as I am, Wren slowly comes up to me, his eyes darting everywhere but to where he could meet mine.

  “Thanks again for lending me the money for this,” he says. “I didn’t exactly expect I’d need enough cash to pay for a tow truck, so…I’ll make a transfer as soon as I get to a bank.”

  I shake my head with a tired chuckle. “I said it’s fine, Wren.”

  He frowns, but only for a moment. “You’ve done enough for me already.”

  I study Wren’s boots as he inches closer. His shoe size looks silly compared to mine. He’s wearing his normal clothes again, the tight, city-winter gear completely unfit for the conditions around here. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make him look sexy, though.

  My stomach twists painfully as I will myself to look up and face him.

  Dearest dualis, this is ridiculous.

  “You, umm, have the number, yeah?” I ask, my voice weaker than I’d like. Wren nods and pulls out the folded piece of paper that I wrote my landline number on.

  “And you have mine.”

  “Yep.”

  Silence again.

  He shifts on his feet and exhales, sending out his licorice scent toward me. “Hopefully, the phone line gets repaired soon. Then we can…keep in touch.”

  Why is this so awkward? Not in an annoying way, but uneasy. Painful.

  I nod, but nothing about it makes me feel better. I’ve been here before, with childhood friends who moved off the mountain and promised to send letters but never did. Or who sent a few, but stopped replying. I know what this is.

  These things never last. Not when Wren returns to the city where people are either constantly connected through the internet in one way or another, or forget about each other completely. Out of sight, out of mind. There are so many things to capture his attention. He’ll forget, I know he will, and I can’t even be angry at him for it.

  I want him to be happy, to work hard on himself like he said he wants to. Deep down, I know that it means embracing that life, and I have this terrible hunch telling me that I, all the way out here, have no part in it.

  “Maybe I can send a letter from time to time, too. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I wrote a letter,” he says with an awkward laugh and pushes his hair back. I want to touch it. To rake my hand through it and take in his scent.

  “Yeah. You’ve got my address.” I sound like some depressed teenager, so I snap myself out of it with a deep inhale and a sharp blink. These are my final moments with him. I don’t want his last impression of me to be this. That’s not me. “I…I really hope you keep doin’ well,” I say in a more lively tone, looking him in the eye with the most genuine smile I can muster. “I wish you all the best, Wren. You deserve that.”

  He looks down shyly—gods, it’s adorable—before smirking. “Maybe I can write a letter explaining how much this all meant to me after some time processing it. I… I’m so grateful, Rus. For all you’ve done for me.”

  I want to kiss him goodbye. One last kiss that conveys everything: all the burning passion and longing and mind-boggling confusion that’s mixing inside me.

  But that fairytale is over.

  The storm is gone, and the skies are clear.

  What happened was the sort of thing we’ll both remember for the rest of our lives. A singular moment in time that could never be explained or replicated. A magical experience that will never stop being that. But outside of it, we’re still strangers. Just two men—a shop owner and a grieving son trying to get his life together.

  So I pull him in for a hug. That’s appropriate enough, isn’t it?

  I feel Wren relax into me, his breath trembling as he does. His heart pounds against my chest, and I close my eyes, taking in that scent and that sensation one last time.

  When we step away from each other, I can tell we’ve both accepted the finality.

  There’s pain in his eyes that he tries to hide, almost like the very first time I saw him. At least now, that darkness is gone. It’s only sadness. Ordinary, natural, endurable. He’ll probably get over it in a few days.

  I’m not sure I will.

  I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep telling myself I’m happy up here all by myself anymore after this, like I have been these past years.

  Clearing my throat before speaking, I fix my posture. “Be careful. The driving conditions still aren’t great.”

  Wren snorts. “Oh, I will. Trust me,” he says, dry sarcasm overflowing in his words. He turns toward his car.

  I put my hands back into my pockets and hunch into my winter jacket. Usually, I don’t get cold, but right now my entire body shivers all the way to my bones.

  Wren gets in and starts the engine. Andy made sure the battery had enough juice after he pulled it out, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t completely dead. For all intents and purposes, the car is fit to drive, and yet there’s a horrible feeling at the bottom of my stomach telling me I shouldn’t let him go or something bad will happen.

  “Goodbye, Russell,” Wren says with an uneasy expression on his face.

  I want to lean into the open window and kiss him—imagining how that gesture would make him change his mind, set his entire life aside, and stay here with me—but I grit my teeth instead and smile. “Goodbye, Wren.”

  He just stares at me for a moment, as if he wants to say something, as if he’s getting ready to, before dragging his eyes away and rolling up the window. I step back slowly, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in my throat, and watch him drive off.

  The car goes behind the bend, and then it pokes between the trees a few times before it disappears completely.

  Finally alone and free to express my stupid, foolish emotions, I rub my face and look down at my trembling hands.

  It feels as if I’ve lost something important.

  I close my eyes and shake my head. I need to stop…this. It’s over.

  The idea of coming back into the quiet, still house almost frightens me. I remember the morning when I woke up with Wren sleeping peacefully in the bed, looking snug as a bug, with the magpie excitedly flying around the room, and everything felt…serene. Domestic. Something I didn’t even know I wanted.

  Maybe that’s what I feel like I lost. A way of life I never knew I desired and was so comforted by.

  Now it’s gone. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Slowly, I head inside, my lips pressed together in a flat line. I learned a long time ago to not let myself be weighted down by what I can’t control. And if I spend the evening staring at the fire and listening to all the melancholy songs in my collection, replaying in my mind every minute I had with Wren, that’s nobody’s business but my own.

  ❄

  As I open my eyes, I get blinded by the sun shining above me. With a groan, I roll to my side, my head feeling strangely light.

  Where am I?

  I look down and notice I’m wearing nothing but swim trunks.

  That would make sense, considering I hear the sound of water splashing. Before I can sit up to see where it’s coming from, someone runs in front of me, blocking the sun with their body.

  “Wake up, Sleepyhead!”

  Wren?

  I brush my hand over my face before looking up at him with a questioning frown.

  “Oh. I…fell asleep?”

  I’m so confused. As I glance around, I quickly realize we’re at Ridgenton Lake. I…haven’t been here in ages. The sheer beauty of it is still burned into my mind, though. Everything’s exactly the same as when I used to come here with my parents when I was little.

  Living on the other side of the mountain, we’d only ever visit on special occasions. Mostly in summer. I loved every single time we did. The lake spreads for what feels like miles, and the backdrop of the forests and the Silverpine Mountain above is like an image from a postcard.

  I finish admiring the scenery, so I shift my gaze to Wren. Before I meet his face, I realize he’s standing in front of me, completely naked.

  Gasping, I dart my eyes up. “There are people around! Kids!”

  He laughs, the sound of it echoing somewhere deep within me. Spreading out his arms, he walks back and turns his head to the left and then the right, demonstrating that there’s no one. And he isn’t wrong. There is nobody to be seen. Not a soul.

  How is that possible? On a hot, sunny day like this? This place should be packed with people. But it’s just the two of us.

  “What are we doin’ here?”

  Wren furrows his brow in confusion and concern. He steps toward me and bends down. I feel the droplets of water from his long hair land on my legs. Ugh. Cold. “Did you get a sunburn or something?” As he puts the back of his hand against my forehead, I jerk. It’s cold, too. “Come on, babe. Leave the trunks and hop in the water with me. The temperature’s perfect. Almost as perfect as you,” Wren adds with a wink and starts walking toward the water, hips swaying flirtatiously to tempt me with his naked form.

  Even a little lost and confused, I’m still mesmerized by his perfect, round ass.

  Leaving my swimwear behind like he requested, I follow him in. He turns around and waits, studying me from head to toe before I sink to my chest and come up close.

  Wren wraps his arms around my neck, rubbing gently against the spot where the venus gland is. I roll my hips into him almost subconsciously, breathing out shakily.

  “How are you here?” I ask.

  Wren smirks. “What do you mean? I’m always here. Always with you.” Wren presses his finger against my left pec and slowly slides it down, pausing at my stomach, right above where my pubic hair begins. “You wanted to come here, remember?” He’s about to move further and take me in his hand when a deafening ringing sound sends a jolt of pain through my skull and makes everything go white.

  I open my eyes and swing myself up on the couch. Feeling all groggy and even more damn disoriented, I look around.

  Turns out I fell asleep. Again. I was going to read something before—

  The phone downstairs rings again.

  Shit!

  I hurry down the stairs. On the way to pick it up, I see my delivery guy, Isaiah, peeking into the window of the store. He’s holding his cell to his ear, so it quickly becomes clear that it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with me. I ignore the ridiculous whisper of disappointment I feel at the realization that it wasn’t him.

  “Sorry! Sorry,” I blurt out as soon as I unlock the door.

  “Was fixin’ to worry you died in there or somethin’,” he says with an amused smile and immediately hands me the papers before heading to the back of his truck to unload the delivery. He’s always on top of it. Always on the move, never wasting a second.

  “Sorry I kept you waiting,” I mutter as I rub my face. The words on the paper blur a little, but I scan it before scribbling my signature. Everything that should be there seems to match.

  “It’s alright.”

  I prop up the door and go help him carry the boxes in. Isaiah isn’t much of a talker. He hauls the delivery out of his truck faster than my still-sleepy self can deal with, but it’s fine.

  Did I have that dream because we haven’t talked in a while? The last call must have been almost a month ago…

  Not like it was my first dream of that sort, with Wren playing the leading role. In the past two and a half months, I’ve had plenty of them. I guess my heat is going to come soon. The one he triggered with his pheromones kind of messed up my regular schedule, like I expected, so I can’t be a hundred percent sure.