Page 176 of Mountain Grump
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’m sure.”
He waits a beat, then he releases me. “Go straight home. Get some rest.”
I lift my hand to my forehead, saluting while my keys dangle from my fingers.
The other man chuckles.
And the edge of Ethan’s lips twitch. Just a little. “Straight home.”
I drop my hand. “Straight home.”
Then, I turn away from my husband and get into my truck.
The front door clicks shut,and I reach behind me, turning the lock.
Then I stand in my entryway, taking in my home.
It’s how I left it.
Mostly clean.
Those last couple boxes still not unpacked.
It’s cozy.
And it’s mine.
And… it feels empty.
I miss Ethan.
I lean down and unlace my boots.
As I tug them off, I debate throwing them straight in the trash, but the memory of lying on the bed as Ethan tended to my feet prevents me from getting rid of them. So I leave them next to my other shoes under the front window.
I checked Quackers’s pool and food dish when I walked up. Still looks clean. Still has a little bit of food. So I don’t feel bad waiting until tomorrow to refresh them.
The couch is tempting. But a shower is my top priority.
I take my time, lathering up, scrubbing, rinsing. And doing it all over again.
When I step out of the bathroom with my hair in a towel and my softest pajama shirt on, I feel like a whole different person.
I’m still sleepy. But I’mcleanand sleepy. And that’s somehow different.
As I debate the merits of napping on the couch versus just going to bed, I can’t help but notice how quiet it is.
And yes, there it is. Thetoo quiet.
The great big kind of quiet that makes you feel alone.
Secluded. With nothing but your thoughts.
Sadness cradles my shoulders.
The cabin, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, was the quietest place I’ve ever been. And I never felt like this.
