Page 17 of Left of Forever

“I’m going to this year,” I say. It’s time.

When Silas and I leave Starhopper a little while later and step into the misty fall air, my phone rings. I send it to voicemail when I see that it’s Lennon.

“I want to reiterate something,” Silas says as we reach the pathway that wraps around the expansive lawn on this chunk ofa cliff. “It’s not that I don’t think you deserve to be happy again, or to be happy with Wren, Ellis. You guys had the thing everyone wants for themselves, I know that. And yeah, I’ve never seen two people more in love… But I’ve also never seen two people be so—sogonewhen they lost it.” He looks up from his feet. “You were haunted. The both of you were. Don’t dredge up old ghosts. Not now. Let that shit stay buried and find happiness for yourself somewhere else. Let her, too.”

I take in a breath that’s too cold, burning my lungs up from the inside. I merely nod. We hug, and I’m careful to avoid his burnt shoulder. “Love you,” I manage to say. “And… I won’t.” Not until I get myself to a place where I feel like I might deserve her again. Not unless she wants me again, too.

“Love you, too.”

I hang back and watch him walk away, then slip my phone out of my pocket and return Lennon’s call.

“Hey! You listen to my voicemail?” she says brightly.

“Not yet, sorry.” I sniff. “What’s up?”

“Guess you haven’t checked the weather, then, either?”

“Kirby, enough with the suspense.” I’m suddenly so exhausted I can barely see straight.

“Jeez, cranky. All right, well, the sad news is that you don’t get to see me again. I’ll pause to let you be adequately devastated.” She waits four seconds before she proceeds. “The good news is that the rain finally rolled in over here. Fire’s all but contained, so they’ll be calling off the extra crews.”

It’s illuminating how my first feeling in response to this isn’t pure relief but a tepid sort of panic instead. Nothing to distract myself with. No reason to continue with the letters. “That’s great,” I say weakly.

“The best news?” says Kirby. “The horses were found.”

CHAPTER 8

WREN

It’s early afternoon on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and Mom’s already gone home for the day after the rush of people picking up their premade pies came through. I’m alone in the shop other than Fisher’s niece, Indy, who keeps coming up to the counter and looking into the display case without buying anything. I feel like she’s been working up the courage to talk to me about something, and I watch her visibly gather up her strength before her fourth trip to the register. But the moment she says, “Wren, I—” the bell over the door chimes and our mail lady walks in, lips pursed with a look of disapproval for me.

“Another letter from ‘Guest L’ over in Colorado,” she says, holding out the envelope with a flourish.

“Oh, um, thank you,” I say. The look on her and Indy’s faces indicate that I might not be succeeding at my “totally chill” impression. They both wait expectantly.

“Sorry, but, did we start tipping the postal service orsomething?” I ask the same mail lady I’ve known since I was twelve. Maybe if I lay it on thick enough, she’ll be too aggravated to be nosy. “Is that what you’re waiting on?”

She rolls her eyes and tosses me a wave over her shoulder. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she drawls.

“You, too,” I call back. And then I’m left alone with Indy again. I’m sure as hell not opening it in front of anyone, but I also don’t want to hustle her out of here in an obvious way.

“You were saying?” I ask as gently as I can manage. Her eyes flick to the letter before I slide it into my apron.

“I—well, it’s awkward, but . .” Her arms cross and she looks at her feet, then at a spot over my shoulder. Anywhere but directly at me, it seems. “It’s just that, sometimes you sorta remind me of my mom, and I know this is awildlypersonal question and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer it, but I just keep wondering lately, you know, and I wish I could just ask her things sometimes. That’s what I miss the most, I think, is just talking to her. I thought it might help if I could ask someone else who went through it.”

“Babe, whatever it is, it’s fine. I’ll answer it as best I can,” I promise.

Her eyes find mine now, and she heaves a big breath. “I was wondering what—actually,why, you decided to keep Sam when you were younger? I know it wasn’t, like, a religious thing or something. I don’t even know why I want to know this.” She looks off to the side and starts chewing her thumbnail, and something plucks sharply in my chest. The holiday season always stirs up grief in strange ways. I also know that Indy’s mom had her when she was young, too, and that their small town was not as kind.

I clear my throat. “I’m afraid my answer is specific to me, and I don’t know if it’ll help. Everyone’s answer is always going to be specific to them, sweetie. But, I’ll tell you, anyway, if you want me to?”

She nods, so I continue. “I have what’s called apituitary adenoma. It’s a small, benign tumor that pushes on my pituitary gland and made it so I did not have any sort of normal cycle at all when I was younger. We found it when I was fourteen, and I’d been told that I would never have kids or that I’d have to take extraordinary measures to get pregnant someday.” I let out a long breath. “When I did, anyway, despite being careful, I was worried it might be my only chance to, and I decided that I didn’t want to take that risk.” It turns out I’d been right.

“Is that why no one was… Is that why everyone supported you?”

“I don’t know that anyone was particularlythrilledabout it,” I say with a wry look. “I was still seventeen. And Ellis had just lost his only remaining parent.” I sigh raggedly. “Life can be a bully sometimes. And a bully doesn’t care if you’re already having a rough time. In my experience, it’s not gonna help you if you keep shouting ‘Ouch, you’re hurting me!’ at it, either. I think you gather up your friends and stand up to its ass and rock a bloody smile while you do it.”

She smiles with glassy eyes. “Glad Spunes is my friend now, too.”