Page 44 of Little Bird
And we’ve both seen what that can do.
“You idiot,” Gabe breathes. “You’ve driven her away and right into the arms of the storm.”
He rears back, swings at me, and connects with my nose, and I go down hard, hitting the floor like a sack of rocks. I hear the pounding of footsteps and his cursing, and by the time I can get my eyes to focus again he’s jumping down the stairs and dashing out the front door. In the driveway, one of the Jeeps starts up and skids out of the driveway, the tires trying to find purchase on what’s left of the asphalt as he goes after our girl.
While I bang my head against the wall, cursing myself as five thousand sorts of fool for having let my anger get the better of me. Because he’s right. It’s my fault she left.
It’s my fault a city girl is out there driving in a storm that could well kill her.
If it does, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
And I’ll lose my son forever.
Taryn
I can’t believe this is happening.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I crouch down over the wheel, staring desperately into the snow and trying to see beyond the white curtain surrounding me. The storm that was only brewing earlier has suddenly become much bigger, and the sun trying to shine through the clouds is making it even worse. What a lot of people don’t realize is that snow is scary at night, because it’s dark and hard to see, and ice can be hiding anywhere. Nighttime makes it colder and harder to function.
But daytime?
Yeah, when it’s really coming down during the daytime, I’ve always thought that was worse. The light reflecting off the snow is blinding, and that reflection makes the snow look opaque. Instead of gently drifting flakes, you get a white sheet of nearly solid mass, and it’s so confusing, so off-putting, that you start to panic.
Which is what I’m doing right now. I have the headlights on to try to see better in the early morning glow, but I realize quickly that those are just making things worse and turn them off. I don’t know this road very well and I’m trying to go slowly, but that doesn’t really mater when snow’s been falling for several hours now and no one has been by to clear it.
Wait, do they even plow up here when it snows? I’m so stressed that I can’t remember, no matter how hard I try, and honestly, that doesn’t matter, either.
Because I’m going to be long gone before anyone gets here to plow this fucking road.
Though it would be more convenient if they’d already done it. As it stands, I can hardly see where the asphalt ends and the shoulder begins, and that’s making it impossible to drive as quickly as I want to.
Christ, I want to go home. I want to be in a place that makes sense, where I have my own room in my own house and my own fucking clothes. I’ve been feeling that pull since I got here, loaded down with Stella’s clothing and a dose of Gunner’s cold judgement, but I was putting it off. Not looking at the situation in the hope that this feeling would go away.
Gunner’s words to me made that impossible.
I still can’t believe all the things he said. Intentionally hurtful things, and I have no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. Every word drove into me like a knife, and I could see him registering my hurt. I was crying, and he saw it. I was fighting back, and it didn’t matter. He set out to hurt me, for reasons I don’t understand, and he succeeded.
I can’t stay here anymore. I just can’t do it. These men used to be my family and since I got here, I’ve realized that I want a whole lot more than that. Gabe is my whole heart, my soulmate, and I want to hold him to me and keep him safe for the rest of my life. I want him to keep me safe, his big arms and even bigger heart sheltering me from the storm of life. And I think we could do it. I think we’d both give our lives for the other. We’ve always told each other we were all in and that life could be an adventure for us. We’ve always meant every word.
Except Gunner is standing over us, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, and I don’t understand what the fuck he’s doing. He came to get me when I called and sounded like he was all in on that. But when he arrived, he turned into a bear of a man who obviously didn’t want me, and that part hasn’t changed. Well, it did that first night, when I caught him trying to touch my hair.
And last night when I found him sleeping in my bed.
And then later in the kitchen, when he kissed me.
He’s had moments of pure, achingly beautiful vulnerability with me, when he’s showed me who I think he really is, and if I could count on that being consistent, everything would change.
But that face was long gone this morning when he stood in the hall and told me exactly what he thinks of me, and that all brings me back around to the one important conclusion: Both of these men might have feelings for me, but they hide them as soon as they become inconvenient. Gabe lies to his friends and pushes me off whenever anyone else is around, and Gunner…
I don’t know how Gunner does it, but he manages to make me feel guilty for his feelings, and that’s not okay, either.
The truth is simple: Neither of them is going to choose me when the chips are down. So turnabout is fair play, then.
I’m not choosing them, either. I’m going home to NYC, where I have friends and allies who will choose me.
Sometimes.
