This was too much. Jenna needed to talk to Country, but it wouldn’t be tonight. She set her cup on the ground and used the mayhem to slip away from the patio and tromp through the packed snow to the side of the house. Breathe. She just needed to?—
“Jenna?”
_____
Country slipped as he stopped in the snow. Jenna spun to face him, the tears in her eyes shimmering in the ambient light. She didn’t answer. Didn’t say anything, just reached up and clutched the pale-blue knitted scarf wrapped around her neck.
After all his bravado on the drive over, it had been damn near impossible to act like himself. He couldn't stop watching the way her lips moved when she sipped from her cup, or the way the firelight cast a warm glow on her skin. Then in all the celebration, he’d felt her leave before he’d caught a glimpse of her black jacket disappearing behind the corner of the house.
He didn’t think, just moved.
Country jogged forward and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest. She melted into him, and he inhaled the soft scent of rose and vanilla in her hair. Too much. He’d pushed too hard. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Had he?
As Jenna’s shoulders shook beneath his arms, he didn’t want to admit that there had been a small part of him that hoped seeing him again—being reminded of pieces of their life together—would bring her the same pain he’d lived with every day in Toronto. He didn’t want her to suffer. He only wanted to admit to her that he had. That she’d caused it.
He wanted a damn explanation.
Country steadied his breathing and felt Jenna settle. He held her until she was so still, he could’ve been convinced she’d fallen asleep, then held her longer. They stood in the shadow of the house, listening to their friend’s laughter wafting over in fits and bursts from the patio.
Finally, Jenna pulled back and wiped at the smudged mascara under her eyes. He needed to say something but couldn’t string any words together.
“Thank you,” Jenna murmured. She wouldn’t look up and meet his eyes. Country reached out a hand and lifted her chin. The tip of her nose was pink. Her eyes shadowed and red-rimmed. She sniffed. “Can we talk?”
He nodded then motioned to his truck. Jenna turned and walked with him, their shoes crunching over the snow. Country debated getting in and turning on the heat, but it wasn’t that cold. He pivoted and opened the back door.
“Why do you have blankets in your truck?”
He shrugged, pulling the bundle from the back. “I always keep quilts in the backseat.”
That was true. At least since she’d known him. He told her it was a safety thing, that his mom insisted he had enough supplies in the truck to keep him warm and fed if the truck stalled on the highway or something, but they’d found enough uses for those quilts over the years that had nothing to do with emergency preparedness.
Country lowered the tailgate, and Jenna slipped as she tried to climb into the back. This truck stood taller than the one he had back in the day, the one they’d always stargazed in from the driveway of the ranch.
“Here,” Country put his hands around her waist and boosted her up.
“Thanks.” She spread out one of the quilts, then balled up one for their heads. Country grabbed the last blanket and pulled it over them as they settled in on their backs.
“I don't remember the last time I've done this,” Jenna whispered.
Country stared up into the cloudless night sky filled with hundreds of stars. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough. “I remember.” He didn't reach out, didn't even accidentally press his legs against hers.
“It's crystal clear.”
Country traced the Big Dipper with his eyes then searched for Orion's Belt. “I think there's a chance we see Northern Lights tonight or tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah?”
Country nodded. “There are some good solar flares, and as long as the clouds hold?—”
“As long as we wake up at three in the morning.”
Country turned his head, and caught a small grin on her lips. He loved the way her right eye crinkled more than her left. The new lines she had along her cheeks. “I’d rather just stay up all night.”
She breathed a laugh. “Don't you think we're too old for that?”
“I thought I was too old for a lot of things.”
He turned his head back to the sky, and Jenna pushed up on her elbow. “That's not a full sentence.”
