Roman isn’t angry at me anymore. And a skunk is a small price to pay for that mercy.
Tiny infant-sized fireworks ready to make big explosions swirl in my stomach at the thought of him holding me, helping me, putting me to bed—in his very own jersey. I’m not sure why he chose his clothes over mine. But I’m sure he had his reasons. Knowing Roman, he didn’t want to violate trust by going through my things. Either way, I do not hate the way it all turned out.
I push back the thought that my brother wouldn’t have liked this and scurry into the bathroom. “Eep,” I squawk upon seeing myself. It’s worse than I thought. The swelling in my eyes has gone down, and they don’t really hurt anymore, but they are rimmed red. They’ve been through battle, and it shows. And my hair … well, I’m not sure it’s salvageable.
That’s okay. Roman has left the Dawn dish soap in the bathroom, and I need another shower. This one where I am totally undressed, alone, and in charge of washing myself.
I scrub myself meticulously. Every nook and cranny of my body gets a good dose of Dawn until Roman’s bottle is close to empty. I even squirt a little in with my shampoo.
Then, I slip back into Roman’s clothes—I didn’t bring in anything else, but mostly I feel like wearing them. I comb the tangles from my wet hair and braid it before passing through Roman’s room once more, then out into the hall.
I smell pancakes. I sigh. I love pancakes.
My eyes prick with tears—over pancakes.
I shake my head, tossing the temptation to cry away and head for the kitchen.
I think Roman likes to cook. He seems happy when he’s cooking. I imagined a whole lot of takeout nights for him. And sure, we are literally living in the woods. But I’d bet he cooked like this before, in his Red Tail apartment.
I step into the kitchen, barefoot, and peek at tall, dark, sweet-smelling Roman. The whiskers on his chin are a little longer than normal. He must trim them daily. And I don’t think he’s showered yet today. The clock behind him reads ten.
“Whoa,” I say. I didn’t realize I’d slept so long.
Roman jerks with my noise, spatula raised. “Oh. Hey.” A smile blooms on his face, and beneath that beard, I know there’s a dimple flickering to life.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I lean against the counter, watching as he flips a beautifully golden pancake.
He waves off my apology. “You slept well?”
“So well. Your bed is remarkable.”
He coughs out a small laugh. “It’s the same exact bed as yours. I bought them the same day.”
I shrug, lifting myself onto the counter and taking a seat next to where Roman cooks. “I don’t know. There’s something about yours.”
“Or maybe you were just that exhausted.” He turns back to his skillet and scoops the six cooked pancakes from the pan. “Have you looked outside?”
“I saw the sun shining through. It was bright and beautiful.”
“Yeah, it’s reflecting off thesnow.”
“It snowed? More than a skiff?”
“Oh yeah,” he says. “A lot more.”
I jump from the counter and hurry to the porch, peering out the window. It rarely ever snowed in Jackson. And neverin Sacramento, at least since I’ve lived there. Only my Canadian Christmases ever had snow.
Sure enough, there is a healthy blanket of white on the ground. The world looks clean and new. Near the cabin, there isn’t a footprint to be seen. Nothing to ruin this perfect canvas. A few feet beyond, I can see the tracks of a four-legged creature and her two pups.
My breath hitches, and I’m not sure if I love or hate those critters. I had one of the longest nights of my life because of that skunk family. I also have Roman’s forgiveness.
“We can’t go outside today!” I call from the porch.
“Why not?” Roman chuckles, poking his head into the enclosed porch but peering at me rather than the beauty outside.
“The snow is perfect, Roman. Completely untouched. No ruining it—for one day. Okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees. It’s something I might have suggested at fifteen. I’m still that girl, just a little more experienced.
