Holy moly, things got uncomfortable fast. The drive that lasted almost thirty minutes to his sister’s house was cut in half now that salt trucks were working. We pulled into his driveway after I almost tore off my whole nail. My entire lower back was a muddle of sweat, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. This was it, the end of our blizzard-buddy shenanigans. He stopped the car, put the gearshift in park, and unbuckled. I undid my seat belt, too, slowly chewing my poor lip until it stung.
“Wait here. I’ll grab the bags and get the door unlocked first. It’s still cold outside.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Minutes later, he signaled for me to join him at the front door, and I ran. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Be careful, Becca.”
“I made it fine.” I brushed past him into his house and welcomed the familiar scent. It was warm, cozy, and pure Harrison. Woodsy and clean. The daylight shined through the windows, showcasing all the decorations we’d put up. It was like another hit to the stomach, and I said the first thing I could. “Your heat came on!”
“Yup. Thankfully. Much better than a fire.”
Memories of that fire would stay with me for years—the smell, the picture Harrison made bending over as he placed more wood on it, and the fact it had kept us from freezing to death.
The bed we’d shared was unmade and messy from our last time together, and a pang of hurt hit me as I stared at the wrinkled sheets. I cleared my throat and tried to keep the conversation going. This inevitable goodbye hurt more than it should. Nervous, desperate laughter took over, and years of faking it ’til I made it helped me form words even though I wanted to cry.
“It worked well enough, though. We survived even though my hair will smell like firewood for a week.”
He didn’t acknowledge my comment, and instead walked farther into the house and began pulling things out of the cupboards without looking in my direction. “Want to get your stuff together? The bowl game starts in about an hour, and I plan to drink beer and watch it.” He set a single dish and a bag of chips on the counter. One bowl, not two.Time for me to go.
He placed his hands on his hips and stared out the window, an unreadable expression on his face. Embarrassment and regret threatened to spill over, so I ducked my head and grabbed the few items I’d left around the room. I tripped over the carpet but righted myself.
“Right. Of course. The bowl. Hank.” I nodded hard even though he wasn’t watching me. “You’ve been more than gracious sharing your home and family with me.”
He exhaled before walking down the hallway that led to his bedroom. My mind was torn between feeling his pain at the knowledge his brother was coaching in the game he’d worked all year to be included in, while also mourning the fact something had shifted between us the moment the sun came up and the town thawed.
I smiled at the Snoopy decorations as I zipped my duffel bag shut. My books and yarn didn’t fit so I had them in my hands.
I hated this moment. We were freaking adults, and I’d had a great time with him. Sure, it hurt knowing he just wanted sex and someone to keep warm with for the week, but it had been more than that to me. It was almost like we’d formed a friendship. A really hot friendship where I could be myself and he could peel back the layers he was too afraid to show others. We fit.
It wasn’t pride that stopped me—the one thing age had taught me each year was that admitting the truth, even if it was tough, was always better. I needed to tell him that without a single expectation of him feeling the same way. No regrets, and I could move on. I’d say how I wouldn’t be opposed to hanging out together. No commitment. I’d keep it casual. Super cas. The chillest. That didn’t screamrelationship.
Proud of my decision, I had my bags in my hands, balancing the books and yarn on top of them, and went in search of him. I poked my head into the kitchen and then the hallway. “Harrison?”
No response.
I moved closer to his bedroom, but there wasn’t a single light on or movement.
I saw him come back here, though.Was he hiding from me? Hoping to avoid ending our fling?
He did ghost me two years ago.
My eyes stung at the possibility that he might ghost me again, and I waited a full minute before calling out to him.
“Harrison, I’m leaving. I don’t… want to, okay? I liked this time with you. I like you, actually. I’d prefer to say this to your face.” I waited for his footsteps that were so familiar to me now.
Nothing.
Maybe he went to the basement?
I moved toward the door with the blanket shoved under it and cracked it open. “Harrison?”
Nothing, again.
One more try. His truck still sat in the driveway, so he didn’t drive away… which meant he was in the house.But why is he hiding?
Maybe he’s in the bathroom. Oh, snap—that would be weird. I chewed my lip again and checked the guest bathroom. The door was wide open. “Harrison?”
“No, it’s over.” His voice came from the back of the house. “Don’t say anything more.”
My stomach hollowed, and I blinked back the sting in my eyes.It’s over?Just like that?
“Wow, uh, okay. Yeah.” I cleared my throat and rushed toward the front door. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He said something else, and I stopped, desperately wanting him to explain himself more, but it was just a quick bye.
