by A. J. Downey
“You’re early,” I murmured, and he smiled, closing my door behind me as I chirped the alarm.
“If you’re early you’re on time, if you’re on time, you’re late,” he declared, and I smiled slightly and nodded.
“I’m the same way.”
I led the way up the walk to my mother’s front door and unlocked it, stepping in and clearing out of his way so he could come through.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving, actually,” I replied, and he didn’t miss a beat, just went into the kitchen and looking at the oven for a moment, turned the appropriate dial.
Meanwhile, I set down my things on one end of the couch and sighed, once again overwhelmed by the sheer number of boxes and the absolute disarray everything was in. I had no idea how I was supposed to whittle through all of it even with his help. I wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do by way of help. I mean, this was really all on me.
“You okay?” he asked as I surveyed the room and I shook my head.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it all,” I answered.
He came around and picked up a box, handing it to me. I took it and blinked up at him a little shocky. I think and he gave me a sardonic little half-smile, so gentle there was no sting to it when he said, “One box at a time, starting with this one. You got a roll of trash bags right there. You don’t want it, fill one up and I’ll take it out to the truck. You finish going through this box? I’ll bring you another. Steady as she goes.”
I nodded and went over to the recliner and sank into it, the box in my lap, letting out a shaky breath as he unrolled a trash bag off of the roll and opened it up.
One box at a time, starting with this one, I thought to myself.
I opened the top, took a deep breath and woodenly started to sort. Meanwhile, Fenris moved around the living room and kitchen quietly, putting the pizza in the oven, starting a timer, answering texts and surfing the internet on his phone, just being a presence while I worked.
When I had sorted through the first box and set it aside with just a few items I wanted to keep inside of it, the trash bag holding the rest, he brought me another.
“Oh…” I murmured when I opened it up to my wedding album on the top.
“Wanna set it aside and burn it later?” he asked, and I wrinkled my brow.
“I-I mean, I don’t know the answer to that,” I said overwhelmed. “You don’t think it’s childish? I mean, what if I want those memories later?”
“Why?” he asked.
“Why would I want them?”
“Yeah. I mean, look how it ended.”
“I mean, I definitely know how it ended, but it wasn’t all bad.”
“The look on your face says otherwise, baby,” he said so softly, so sympathetically, I looked up sharply.
I met his blue eyes, and he smiled at me, the gesture forced and the tightness around his eyes belying his anger. Not at me, but for me. I couldn’t ever remember a time that happened. That anyone got so righteously angry on my behalf. It was a little strange but a relief at the same time, you know?
That expression of his lent more to strengthening my resolve to get through this than I had to date.
I looked down at my wedding album, at my happy, smiling, unassuming face and back up to Fenris and held it out to him.
“I guess we need to start a burn pile.”
His smile was a proud one that made me melt just a bit and he said, “Atta girl!”
He started a burn pile and went to get the pizza out of the oven.
We sat and ate off paper towels, talking over some things that shifted from boxes to trash, boxes to other boxes to keep, and boxes to a neat little pile by the door to burn.
I mean, I could always change my mind later, but for now… it was cathartic in a sense. You know?
When a trash bag filled, or we ran across a box that needed to be completely tossed, he didn’t wait. There was no preamble. As soon as I declared it was junk, he took it out the front door and tossed it into the back of his truck.
Within the hour, it was feeling much less claustrophobic in my mother’s house and it really was like I could start to breathe in an emotional sense once again.
Fenris set another box into my lap and we were laughing a little, talking. The laughter died on my lips with a wave of nostalgia as I pulled the lid off the banker’s box to reveal a nest of tangled fair ribbons.
“Oh.” I lifted a blue ribbon off the top with shaking fingers.
“What’s that?” he asked, the tears already leaking out of the corners of my eyes.
I sniffed and said, “The first time I took a blue ribbon at the Puyallup Fair for one of my pottery pieces.”
I picked up the picture buried under the nest of ribbons of me flanked by Charles and Copper. My mom had been behind the camera.
“Memory good, bad, or indifferent?” he asked cautiously.
“I don’t know anymore,” I whispered and something inside of me broke all over again.
He came over, took the box from my lap and the ribbon from my one hand and set it aside, pulling me into a hug as I clutched the photograph to my chest. The realization hit me that nothing would ever be the same again. The comfort of that time – knowing I was loved and supported and knowing that Copper, my mother, and my husband were proud of me. Now my family was gone and my husband? Well, that was all a lie, wasn’t it?
“Shh, I got you,” he whispered, his hand cupping the back of my head, fingers threaded through my hair as he held me tight, and pressed me into his shoulder, sheltering and letting me cry it out.
I was so sick of crying. So sick of hurting. So sick and tired of it all…
“Okay, time to change tact, you need a break,” he said and gently let me go.
“Pack a bag.”
“What?” I asked, voice warbling.
“Whatever you need for work for the next couple of days and some clothes for the weekend. Come on, let’s go. Lock it up and let’s get you out of here.”
“I don’t understand…”
“We’re leaving. Just put it down. We’re walking out of here and getting a few days between you and the pain and we’ll come back to it. This isn’t working for you.”
“I can’t just leave,” I protested weakly. “Where would I go?”
He looked at me judiciously and asked me point blank, “Do you think you can trust me?”
I made eye contact and there was something in his eyes, something I couldn’t explain with words but the feeling…
“Yes, of course,” I said breathlessly.
“Pack a bag, at least four days, through the weekend. You need a break from this place. I’m gonna need you to follow me.”
“Okay,” I said nodding carefully.
“I’m going to take this trash out, these empty boxes. You gonna need those, am I right?” He indicated my briefcase and my purse.
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll put them in your car.”
“Thank you?” I said, and he smiled.
“You’re welcome. Go on now, pack up.”
I got up slowly and mechanically, and went into the bedroom to start pulling things from my mother’s dresser drawers.
It was the only thing I had managed to do in the house that was easy… throw all of her clothes into trash bags that resided in the living room and put all of my things away… and I hated it.
I think Fenris was right. I needed a break, someplace other than here to collect myself. Maybe find myself.
I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I certainly had no idea who I was supposed to be now.
I needed a new foundation.
Chapter Ten
Fenris…
I shot a text to my dad that I was going to have company for a few nights and got to work tossing the trash bags of what felt like clothes that were meant for Goodwill into the back of his truck up near the cab. The trash I kept in the middle of the bed and toward the tailgate? The burn pile. I
wanted to offload that shit first and spirit it away in the corner of the barn until I was ready for it. My pagan ass had a multitude of reasons for wanting to burn some of it.
Mostly to purify Aspen of some of the negativity that was hanging around her like a pall in the air. Sometimes it was so thick, it was no wonder she was drowning in her own tears.
She needed a breath of fresh air, to shake some of it off, and I aimed to get her back on track… or hell, maybe on a new set of tracks altogether.
Whatever was best for her, and I meant that. She was a beautiful soul, inside and out. I could see it in her green eyes plain as day. She was so pure it almost burned to look at her.
Do enough evil shit like I had, you knew pure goodness when you saw it and Aspen was pure goodness, desperate to heal. I was just as desperate to see her heal. Some of that echoes from Lacy, but I sure didn’t look at Aspen like she was my sister. No, she smelled too good, felt too good tucked into my arms.
Now was definitely not the time to make any moves, though.
I found her keys, forlorn up against her briefcase on the couch, and used them to unlock her car so I could stow her purse and work stuff in the back. When I went back into the house, I cleaned up from our dinner and took out the kitchen trash so it wouldn’t stink since she would be gone.
I went to the door of her room and watched her pack for a moment. She looked lost – in thought, in her feelings, directionless and tired, the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“How you doing in here?” I asked, and she jumped, letting out a cry and pressing a hand to her chest.
“Shit, sorry.” I couldn’t help the chuckle.
“It’s alright, just make some noise or something? For as big as you are, you’re so dang quiet!”
“Practice makes perfect,” I said with a shrug. Doesn’t help to let whatever your quarry might be know that you’re coming. It kind of negates the whole point of hunting. She didn’t need to know all of that, though.
“I, uh, I don’t know about this. I have to work and—”
“You’ll get to work on time, I promise,” I said. “You need the break, babe.”
“I do,” she confessed, and she looked so damned sad. I wondered what it was going to take to see this woman smile again, and I mean really smile. I had to give that some serious thought.
“Nothing wrong with taking help when it’s offered,” I said gently.
“What?” She jumped slightly and turned her gaze up and over to me from where she ran a top or something between her hands over an open, leather duffel bag. “Oh, no, it’s not that.” She bowed her head and shook it.
“What is it, then?”
“I don’t know, I’m just tired, I guess. Not thinking straight.”
“Okay, what else do you need?” I asked.
“Um, shampoo and conditioner, soap and the like from the bathroom.”
“Cool, I got it.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay! I can—”
“Too late,” I said and went into the bathroom. There was a lot of shit in there. I called back out, “Which stuff is yours? Just tell me.”
She did, and I threw it all together in the sink so I could put it in the grocery bag I saw out front.
It was ramshackle and rude as hell treating her shit that way, but I wanted to get her someplace organized where she had a hope of finding some time away from the memories, to build some scar tissue up over her grief and recent emotional wounds.
Her hurt was palpable, throbbing, throwing off heat that I could almost feel from the next room as I grabbed a bag for her toiletries. I loaded them up and turned as she zipped her bag closed and turned to look at me.
“I don’t know about this,” she murmured.
“I promise, I’m just trying to help,” I said, and she sank down to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I know.”
I sat down next to her and waited out whatever thought process she had going on. Finally, with a large sigh she committed and said, “Okay. I’m ready; let’s go.”
“You sure?” I double-checked because she didn’t really seem like it.
“No,” she whispered reluctantly.
“Okay, what’s going on in there?” I smoothed some of her loose hair back from her face to get a better look at her.
“I feel like I’m asking way too much of you.”
“You aren’t asking for anything, babe. I’m sort of over here insisting.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she whispered, and I hugged her to my side, her head naturally finding my shoulder.
“That’s the whole point of this field trip – to get you out of this house full of old ghosts and memories and someplace different, neutral, so you can begin to sort out what’s in your head.”
She nodded and stood up slowly and I gathered her bags.
She followed me in her Prius up I-5 and across Highway 18 to the Auburn-Black Diamond Road exit, then a sharp pair of turns up Green Valley Road and the city feel was left behind fairly swiftly.
We pulled up outside my house and I got out of the truck. The goats were bedded down for the most part, but there was still an excited bleat or two out in the dark. I immediately went to Aspen’s door and opened it up for her and she got out of the car.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“No problem. Pop your hatch.”
She did from her key fob and I retrieved her gear. My pops was already at the kitchen door, a rectangle of light spilling over the gravel.
“C’mon and get in here, girl. It’s damp and cold out here.”
Aspen rushed ahead, and he stood sideways, letting her slide past him.
“I’m sorry if we’ve kept you up,” she said.
“Nah, I’ve always been a night owl. Y’all eat?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Go on upstairs, let’s get you settled,” I said. She nodded and went for the stairs.
“All good?” my dad asked.
I gave him a nod and twisted to get through the door and around the counters with my cargo without banging into anything.
“Night then,” he called after me when I went right for the stairs myself.
“Night,” I grunted back.
She was waiting at the top of the stairs and I gestured with a handful of bags to my room. She nodded and went into it and I followed just to set things down and get her settled.
“I can stay on the couch for now,” I told her.
“You don’t really have to do that,” she said. “I’m okay if you’re okay. I mean, um…” she was blushing hardcore, and it was fucking cute.
I smiled, nodding, but still asked, “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, here’s your bag.” I handed her the bag she packed, and I set her briefcase and purse aside. I held out her toiletries in the grocery sack and said, “You know where the bathroom is. Take your time getting ready. Okay?”
“Okay, thank you,” she said, and she ducked out into the hallway and across the hall. I went across to the dresser and lit all the candles on top so I could switch out the overhead light. I hated artificial light and went with flame whenever possible.
Candles lit, I went over to the window and raised it up to get some airflow.
I changed for bed, and by that I mean, I just stripped down to my boxer briefs and got between the sheets under the furs and waited for her to come back, leaving enough room for her to get into bed, my nerves jangling with a low-key excitement of having her cuddled against me again.
I liked the feel of her in my arms. It was different. She was different. There was just something about a good girl, I guess. She had drama around her, but it wasn’t the melodrama of club girls. It wasn’t stupid head games and a bunch of bull fuckery.
Still, I was used to breaking heads not mending hearts, and I worried just about constantly if I was doing things right, especially given my level of attraction to her. I lay there, fingers laced behind my head, on my back, staring at the patterns of f
irelight on my ceiling and I sighed. I reached over and paired my phone to the Bluetooth speakers in the room, and made sure it was plugged in.
I had a sleep playlist full of lower key, slower, Wardruna tracks I liked on repeat and a stretch of tracks that were just like fifteen minutes of rain falling. I kept the volume low so it was calm, chill, trance inducing. I hoped it worked for her, because without it, I would be lucky if I could get my mind to shut the fuck up long enough to let me get to sleep.
I had started to drift already when she came back in. I jumped slightly as she set her bag down against the chest of drawers inside the door and she straightened looking a little guilty.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s cool, you didn’t. Just c’mere so we can sleep.”
“Yeah, um, is there someplace I can plug this in?” she asked and held up her phone.
“What kind?” I asked.
We got her sorted, and she sat down on the edge of the bed with a slow sigh.
“C’mere, if you like,” I said and held my arms open. She nodded and cuddled into my side, resting her head on my shoulder and breathing out slowly.
“Music going to bother you?” I asked quietly, running my hand up and down her arm, kneading it rhythmically to banish some of the tension she held in her body.
“No, its… nice. I don’t know what they’re saying, though.”
“It’s Norse.” I chuckled slightly.
“Oh.”
I closed my eyes, and we listened to the rhythmic beat, slow like a heartbeat, the overlay of lilting voices, primal, rich and nuanced, evoking images of rich earth and green growing things, of livestock and farm life, of cold still waters, straights and fjords.
I pressed a kiss to Aspen’s forehead and my lips curved as she melted into my side further – tension draining from her, her body soft and yielding against the hard planes and angles of mine.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and I let out a slow breath.
“You got nothing to thank me for,” I told her. “This is nice for me, too.”
