Page 77 of Off the Beaten Path

Wren smiles. “They’re certainly helping. They’re giving me a lot of money to fix it.”

“Will it still be done in two weeks?”

“No,” Wren says, a little sadness tingeing her voice. “I’ll have to cancel all the reservations for this year. Maybe we can get it up and running again by next spring.”

June’s eyes widen. “A whole year?”

Wren shrugs. “Well, I won’t be able to work on it until tourist season is over, and your dad always works more then too.”

It’s true. I’m already booked solid for the next few months, and as much as I would love to be able to work on the cabin in my spare time, there won’t be much of it, especially once school is out for the summer. Wren is probably right that it will be a while before the cabin can be fixed. Despite the donations for repairs, that means another year of being strapped with a mortgage on little income. It makes my dinner sour in my stomach.

I’m quiet for the rest of dessert, lost in my own thoughts, and when June runs into the living room to pick a movie for the three of us to watch, Wren asks me about it. There’s concern in her eyes as she says, “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

I don’t want to tell her I’m worried for her, that I’m racking my brain for solutions, because she seems to actually be okay, and the last thing she needs is me setting off anxiety for her. So I shrug and say, “I’m fine.”

She nods, following me into the kitchen with our dishes, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me. We rinse the dishes in silence and load them into the dishwasher as June scrolls through the streaming services in the living room.

After loading the last of the dishes, Wren stops me with a hand on my arm. When I look at her, something inside me cracks. Her eyes are still a little puffy and red from crying last night, and her cheeks are dotted with freckles from the time she’s spent out in the flower fields lately. All the sunshine is starting to bleach her hair, making it more blond than red. She looks so beautiful it hurts.

Her hand tightens on my arm, her finger absently tracing over the june bug tattoo inked into my skin. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Suddenly, not touching her feels like torture, and I break my self-imposed rule to keep the physical intimacy to a minimum in front of June. I wrap her up in a hug, and after a second’s hesitation, she melts into me, her arms snaking around me until it feels like we’re one person instead of two.

“Yeah, Red, I’m okay.” I slide my hand beneath her curls, gently squeezing her nape. “Just thinking.”

She pulls back, just far enough to look into my eyes. I want to kiss her, to remind myself that even when everything seems to be falling apart, she’s here with me. That she’s flesh and bone and heat and softness.

“What are you thinking about?”

There’s a thought in the back of my mind, something that I’m not sure would work. It would take a miracle, really, but I’m starting to believe in those.

Shaking my head, I say, “Nothing.” My hands slide back down her spine, coming to rest on those spots on her hips, and I tug them against mine, aware of June just feet away, her focus secured on the TV.

Wren makes a silent little gasp when we line up everywhere, just an intake of breath, and I lean in until my lips are on the shell of her ear. She shivers against me as I ask, “Could you stay here with June and put her to bed? I need to run out for a bit.”

When she nods, her curls snag in my beard. “Yeah, of course. Where are you going?” Her voice is breathy, and it makes me warm all over.

“Wait up for me,” I say, and let my lips find that smooth expanse of skin just below her ear, the one that always makes a trail of goose bumps prick up across her neck.

And then I back up, pleasure zinging through me at the dazed look in her eyes, at the way she grabs on to the kitchen counter for balance.

She watches me push my feet into my boots, not moving from where I left her propped against the counter. There’s a heat in her eyes that feels like a promise. It almost makes me kick my boots back off and stay here. But then I see the ash coating the soles of my boots and I remember why I need to leave. There’s something I need to do.

It’s late when I get home, the full moon shining through the gaps in the curtains. I rinsed my boots off with the hose outside, no longer wanting to see the ashes on them or bring them into the house, and I slowly kick them off now, careful to be quiet. The whole house is that kind of still that only happens in the dead of night, and I tiptoe to my room, looking for Wren. She’s not curled up in my bed, though, and when I backtrack to the living room to make sure I didn’t miss her on the couch, she’s not there either. Confusion lances through me, but when I see the sliver of June’s warm night light slipping through her cracked-open door, I have a feeling I know where I’ll find Wren.

Sure enough, when I gently push open the door to June’s room, I find them both in her bed. June’s head is resting on Wren’s outstretched arm, her little body curled into Wren’s. The sight does something to me, makes everything inside me turn warm and sticky, just like the heavy lump clogging my throat.

My girls.

Silently, I pad into the room and climb into the twin-size bed behind Wren. It’s too small for the two of them, and especially too small for all of us, but Wren stirs enough to scoot over, her body molding into mine. My arm settles around both of them, securing them against me so we’re all tucked on the tiny mattress. Their breathing settles into something heavy and rhythmic, and I breathe in their matching shampoo scent. My heart rate settles, beating in time with theirs until I drift off to sleep, more content than I’ve ever felt.

There’sacrickinmy neck when I wake up, but I’m warm and cozy. A heavy arm drapes over my middle, and June’s braids are pressing into my chin, sure to leave an imprint. Early morning sunshine slices through the curtains, illuminating the room in a golden glow. Despite everything, how uncertain my life is right now, this moment feels like magic, like something I so desperately wanted without even knowing it. If you’d asked me what my ideal life would have looked like a year ago, I wouldn’t have said snuggling with a single dad and his precious daughter in a too small bed, but right now feels as close to perfection as I can imagine. It’s like those brief moments in time when you look around in awe of what you’re seeing or experiencing—standing atop a mountain, a breathtaking view ahead of you, laughing in a car with the windows down, making a memory that you will never forget, picking berries as a kid, the juices staining your fingers. It’s all the little moments that don’t mean so much when they’re happening but that leave a little imprint on your soul, ones you can look back on and know they were forming you into something new.

That’s how it feels right now, Holden’s arm holding me close, June snuggled into me in a way that makes my heart ache in a beautiful kind of way.

Behind me, Holden stirs, his nose moving up the line of my neck, his arm tightening around June and me. He sits up enough to look down at the both of us, and when he sees I’m awake, that devastating little smile quirks his lips. I don’t know how I got so lucky to be one of the rare people who experience his smiles, but I’ll never stop being thankful for it.

“Morning,” he says, his early morning voice a deep rasp that never fails to send shivers up my spine.

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