Page 47 of Snowbound

“Hey. I thought you were at work.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders, and though my entire body is screaming out to melt into her, I don’t. I stay rigid and continue putting plates away.

She freezes, then backs off. I don’t dare look at her, not wanting to see her look of disappointment.

“Phoebe swapped shifts with me. I’ll be home all morning.”

“Great,” she says lightly. “So we can hang out.”

“I have to finish the woodwork,” I say, still not looking at her.

She sighs, and I glance at her. She’s frowning, pouting her lips at me in the kind of way that still makes me want to rush over to her and take her here and now, but I can’t. If she’s going to leave, I have to distance myself from her. We both have to get used to it.

This was always coming. I don’t know how I could be so stupid to let myself believe that maybe this would be different for her, that maybe she would tell me that she wanted to stay.

Small towns aren’t made for people like her. She needs to spread her wings and be free.

Free from people like me.

“Did you hear my call just now?”

“You were on a call?” I lie, feigning nonchalance. I’m not very good at acting, so I think she probably doesn’t believe me, but she’s not telling me just as much as I’m not telling her. “What was it about?”

“Oh, a new client.”

“That’s good. Did you take the job?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Where is it? When?” I’m pushing her for an answer, but I want to see if she’ll lie to my face.

If she’s happy to tell me a lie now, how can I trust that anything she said to me this whole time has been true?

“New York,” she says, and I hold my breath, waiting for the next hit. But it doesn’t come.

Stilted, I ask, “So you’ll be heading down there soon?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs and stares down at her feet, biting her lip as she scrambles to make up something she can lie about.

“I guess they haven’t given any exact dates yet, right?” I say, turning back to the dishes. They’re all done, so I start rearranging the mugs in the cabinet to keep my hands busy. It takes all my strength not to smash one.

I’ve been so stupid to fall for this, to let her pretty face win me over, to think that maybe someone like her could like some hick like me.

“Gabe, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing at all.”

“You’re upset.”

“No.”

“You don’t seem yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I snap, and my gut clenches when she flinches away from me. But it’s better for us both if she starts separating from me.

I don’t think I’m strong enough to say no to her if she kisses me, but she doesn’t. All she does is stare at me with wet, sad eyes like she’s hurt, like she’s expecting me to say something else when she’s the one who’s leaving me.

“Right, then,” she says, and it’s the coldest conversation we’ve ever had. “I guess I should see if John and Ruth need anything.”

“I guess you should. I’m going to the shed.”

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