Page 53 of Winter Break Up

Sure enough, we dismount, walk a few feet, and there is a red x painted in the snow.

“Ah, ’twas more obvious than I thought it would be,” I remark.

“My father doesn’t really do subtle.” Em chuckles.

Out of her coat pocket, she pulls a bunch of red netting, and together, we wrap the middle of the tree to make it look off-limits. This way, if anyone wanders out here, though there is no chance in hell they would, the tree won’t be sold. It’s a trek, about twenty-five minutes on foot, so the likelihood is slim.

“You think that’s good enough?” I ask, standing back as we finish.

“Yeah, there is no chance anyone is coming out here anyway. Want to go get some hot chocolate from the barn?”

I nod. “Only a few days left for it, so you bet your ass I’m going to drink it every day.”

Except the second I go to fire up the ATV, it stalls out.

“You’re kidding me.” Fucking great.

“What?” Em comes to look at the gauges. “Oh, you’re joking. Dad forgot to fill it with gas.”

I slam my palm into the tiny dashboard of the vehicle. “Dammit. He always does this.”

“He really does.” Her agreement is glum.

She gets on one of the radios we all carry, but the static is heavy, and I’m not sure anyone heard her call.

“Great, now we’re freaking stuck here.” Em kicks a tire.

“We could just walk back,” I suggest.

“It’s freezing and will take forever,” she whines.

That grates on me for some reason, but probably because I’m shivering my nuts off and am now pissed that her dad so carelessly forgot to fill the gas tank.

“You don’t have to be so negative. It’ll be cold either way, whether we stay until someone comes to get us or walk back. Come on, let’s just walk back. We can’t do anything about this, so we might as well try.”

Em’s face morphs into an expression of barely-concealed annoyance and hurt. “What is that supposed to mean?”

For fuck’s sake, the cold is driving her insane or something. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m cold, you’re cold. We want to get back and there is no gas. So we should just pony up, do the hard thing, and walk back.”

“And I don’t know how to do the hard thing, is that what you’re saying?” I notice the little shake in her voice.

Em runs her hands through her hair as she pulls her winter hat off, and I notice the gesture to be the same one she used outside the bar during the crawl. I have a feeling her anxiety is creeping up on her because of this situation, which is out of her hands. The few times I’ve witnessed this have made me feel so helpless because all I want to do is be able to fix it for her, and I know that’s not possible.

“Emily, I’m not saying anything like that. You need to—”

“I do the hard things when I need to. Because sometimes, no one else will do them.” She gives me a pointed look.

Suddenly, everything inside me halts. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Em shrugs, her eyes all shifty as she paces in the snow. “Just means that out of the two of us, I’m usually the one making the big decisions. Having to live with the consequences, even if I don’t want to.”

“You are turning this into something it doesn’t need to be, Emily.” My voice is a warning.

But she’s not listening. No, out here in the woods, with no one to observe us or judge, apparently, everything she’s been feeling is free to roll off her tongue. In situations that are out of our control, sometimes tempers get the best of us. Clearly, Emily is having one of those meltdowns right now, and I am about to bear the brunt of it.

“When you wouldn’t admit what would have happened if we’d stayed together going into college? I did the hard thing.”

My tongue whips out so fast to lash back at her that I couldn’t stop it if I tried. “You took the coward’s way out, and we both know it.”

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