Bolting up the steps, I made it all the way to the door.
A strange wave of disappointment hit me when I realized he hadn’t followed after.
Popping inside, I turned as I went to close the door to spy him still holding his side, one leg propped up, the other outstretched. Falling backwards, he was flat on his back, staring up at the sky as snow tumbled down around him.
Giving a little whistle to get his attention, I lifted my hoodie, pulled the letter from the front of my pants to wave it at him, and closed the door on his surprised mug with a shit eating grin.
Instead of charging after me, he laid there, staring up at the sky, and laughed.
With a shrug, I let the curtain on the back door I was peeping at him through fall and locked the door.
Walking to the front window, I sat on the window seat and stared out. He should really be getting home now. It’s falling down like mad out there. Glancing over my shoulder, I walked back towards the back door. When I peeked out this time the backyard was empty.
I’d admit I felt funny discovering this, kinda disheartened— we’d been having fun— I missed fun— felt like I rarely had any fun anymore— but it was good he’d left. If he’d stuck around he’d be trapped here with me for a bit.
Making myself a cup of tea and a loaded potato a la microwave that crap ‘cause I’m too lazy to actually cook right now, I trudged my way over to the sofa.
As always, my gaze slid back to Elm’s box.
The envelope sat on the coffee table, propped up by one of Mom’s vase decoration things, part candle with a glass lid, part surrounded by pinecones, I dunno, it was her kind of deal not mine, but it was pretty.
My gaze slipped from Cy’s envelope to Elm’s box, ping-ponging back and forth as I quickly ate.
Scarfing down my food, I stood to walk my bowl to the sink when I took a good look around and realized I’d neglected to pick up on one very important thing— I was soggy clean through from the bottom of my slippered feet and moist up to my knees. Some parts of me, namely the thick, insulating bottoms of my slippers, were leaking freaking everywhere.
Crap.
Rushing my owlbears and jeans to the laundry room, I ran back out sans pants and rushed to clean up the mess I’d made.
By the time I was done my legs were chilly, feet screaming for socks, the idea of warming up in the shower was rather tempting.
A knock at the back door made me jump. Running the towels I’d used to the laundry room, I threw on the first pair of pants my fingers touched in the hamper full to overflowing with clothes I had yet to sort, fold, and put away— and probably never would at this rate— and rushed to the back door.
Peering out, I spied nothing but white stuff.
Already knowing this trick, I checked the lock and then ran over to the front door.
Not this time, Cy!
Again, nothing and no one but the frosty cold stuff as I looked through the peep hole. Huh.
Okay… maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe I’d just wanted him to be there and it was, I dunno, something being blown around out there, a rock or acorn or something.
Thinking about that shower, I trudged into my bedroom.
With my clothes now all laid out, I just needed towels.
Stepping out into the hall, I turned to head for the laundry room just past Dad’s office but stopped dead in my tracks at a quick glance over to Elm’s box by the door, which was clearly visible from my vantage point.
It wasn’t there.
Rushing over, I was so distracted I ran right past the oaf propped up on my couch.
“Look for some thing?” Cy asked, his voice as sugary sweet as my condescending tone had been earlier.
“How the hell did you get in here?!” I snapped.
Cy held up a spare key, the one Dad kept under his damn fake rock in the yard.
