“Hey, I’m okay,” I added, even though we both knew it was a lie. I was a lot of things—frozen, confused, slightly concussed, having feelings I’d specifically forbidden myself from having—but okay wasn’t one of them.
His hand cupped my cheek as he placed the bandage over the cut. “You’re always okay.”
I fought the urge to lean into his touch; to pretend we were still the people who knew how to love each other without destroying everything in the process.
Teddy went quiet then, turning back to the sink. Blood—my blood—had dried in the creases of his knuckles, under his nails, streaking up his forearms like abstract art. Our eyes met in the mirror—once, twice, a third time—each glance loaded with all the things we’d never say. This was his way. He never spoke when he was angry, never raised his voice when grief threatened to swallow him whole. He’d just... disappear. Pull away until I was left grasping at shadows, trying to hold onto something that was already gone.
My therapist once said the people closest to us were mirrors,reflecting the wounds we refused to face. At the time, I’d rolled my eyes at the fortune cookie wisdom, but maybe she was right.
Maybe we’d both been drowning, but instead of reaching for each other, we’d clung to our own lifeboats—his made of motorcycle exhaust and clubhouses, mine constructed from treadmill miles and perfect meal prep—neither particularly seaworthy.
Perfect Kelsey—that was what he’d called me. But Perfect Kelsey was just scared Kelsey in designer jeans, terrified that if she showed even the slightest cracks, he’d confirm what I’d long suspected—that I wasn’t worth saving.
The water ran pink, then clear, but Teddy kept scrubbing, cleaning under each fingernail as if he were prepping for surgery. “The meds in your purse?”
I shook my head, feeling stupid for having ventured out in a blizzard without an emergency bag. How many times had I harped on the kids about having a plan… about using their brains and thinking things through?
“I’ll take the snowmobile as soon as the storm eases up and get whatever you need.”
“Or you could just drop me off?—”
“Need to get you warm,” he interjected as if I hadn’t spoken. “You’re shivering again.”
I hadn’t noticed. The bathroom wasn’t cold—if anything, the steam from the sink had made it humid—but my body couldn’t seem to regulate temperature anymore. The same way it had forgotten how to do basic things, like stay warm or maintain a steady heartbeat or not fall apart the second my ex-husband touched me.
He helped me down from the counter, pausing to grab some clothes from the dresser in his bedroom before guiding me toward the living room, his palm steady and warm against the small of my back.
The living and kitchen areas opened before us, all exposed beams and a massive stone fireplace I’d admired on the way in. But where the rental cabin had been cozy and cluttered with holiday charm, Teddy’s place felt hollow. No twinkling lights here. No festive wreaths or mismatched holiday mugs. The cabin was spotless but utterlyimpersonal, like he’d been living in a very expensive, very clean purgatory.
His boots stood in a perfect line by the door—work boots, motorcycle boots, the ancient cowboy boots I’d bought him for his thirtieth birthday. Everything exactly parallel, toes aligned like soldiers awaiting inspection. A single coffee mug sat upside down in the dish rack in the open concept kitchen.
A tree stood in the corner, half-wrapped in a single strand of lights that hadn’t even been plugged in, boxes of ornaments stacked beside it. Waiting. Unfinished. Abandoned. Even Charlie Brown would have shaken his head and told Teddy to get his shit together.
It was the loneliest thing I’d ever seen.
This was what Christmas looked like when you were alone. When there was no one to perform for, no reason to pretend the holidays meant anything more than the end of another long year.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Rockies stretched endlessly, a million-dollar view that only emphasized how empty the space was. How alone he’d been, staring at all that beauty with no one to share it with.
“Sit.” He eased me onto the couch in front of the roaring fire, then dropped to his knees.
“Teddy, you don’t have to?—”
“Hands.”
I extended them reluctantly. His palms dwarfed mine, rubbing small circles until the blood began flowing again.
“Better?” he asked, like it was just another task on his to-do list.
Defrost the ex-wifesicle. Check.
When I nodded, he moved to my feet, muttering a curse at their mottled bluish-purple color. His hands engulfed my left foot, coaxing life back into my frozen toes.
The sudden sensation was excruciating, and I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from crying out. If frostbite didn’t kill me, the pins and needles would.
“I know, baby,” he murmured. “I know it hurts.”
Baby.
