ERIC

My lips get chewed pretty heavily as silence takes us deeper into the woods. When the path thins I step back, motioning with my right hand for her to walk ahead. She notices my knuckles for the first time. Until I see her reaction I’d forgotten all about the bruises, the dried blood. I’m not a fighter by nature—I don’t go around looking for them—but because some guys need to be punched, me and my family, well we tend to get in more than our fair share of scuffles. It’s not a big deal to me. That’s why I’d forgotten, but now her eyes widen as I bring my loose fist higher.

Guess I found out how to bring up Peter.

No delaying it any longer.

Her touch is soft and warm as she inspects it. “Were you in a fight?”

Gazing at our hands, acutely aware that this is the first time they’ve ever touched, I struggle with the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. “Wren, I have to tell you something.”

Her confused gaze slides up, copper eyes dark and brow deeply furrowed.

I swallow hard, summoning the courage to break her heart. “I caught your boyfriend with another girl.”

She releases my ugly fingers. “What?!”

It’s not the question of a girl who didn’t hear me. It’s one who didn’t want to hear those words coming from anyone’s mouth, ever.

“My teammates and I were having a celebratory brunch with Coach and your guy was there, kissing a girl in a booth. At first I thought it was you…but it wasn’t.”

Her hands fly up on shocked gasp.

I finish by saying, “And since it was morning, I’m pretty sure they’d spent the night together. She had a bag next to her and I caught a glimpse of clothes in it.”

Tears spring up. “He said he had to work this morning! That’s what he said at the diner!”

“What diner?”

“After the show!” She spins around and breaks into a run like she’s trying to escape the truth. I stay with her, so she knows she’s not alone, all the way until she runs out of breath, bending over and grabbing her knees, trees in every direction as she chokes out, “I can’t believe it! He lied to me! How long has he been lying?! I’m so stupid!”

I was standing a polite way, feeling terrible, until I heard that.

“Come here,” I groan, pulling her into a hug. Her arms fly around me. But they’re weak like she has no strength anymore, her chest wracking with gasping sobs. “I’m so sorry, Wren. It’s him. He’s a bad guy. You just trusted him. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Tearing away from me she covers her face. “I should have seen it. I feel so stupid! He’s been acting…oh God! Why didn’t he just break up with me? Why would he do this?” She holds her head in a vice, blinking heavily, her face a salty ocean. “What did she look like?”

“A whore.”

Wren blinks at me, and a grin flashes. She knows I just said that to make her feel better, but then she melts in more tears and covers up, groaning, “He went from me to her last night.”

“You slept with him just last night?”

“No! But I was with him as his girlfriend. His band thinks we’re together. Do they know about her? Were they laughing at me?”

Taking a step toward her I reach out, inviting her closer but she needs to make the step. “Look, I can’t stand to see a woman cry. Come here.” She inches forward, looking fragile but that’s all the permission I need to envelope her in my arms, rocking her and whispering in her hair, “He’s a punk. Fuck that guy, Wren. You did nothing wrong. Shhhh…he didn’t deserve you, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“Eleanor was just telling me…” she rasps through heavy emotion, but doesn’t finish the sentence.

Doing my best not to breathe in the sweet scent of her hair, her skin, I quietly ask, “What did she say?”

“The truth. That he’d whittled away at my self-esteem so I couldn’t trust my instincts anymore. He probably loved cheating. Knowing I had no idea, and there he was, with her. And who knows how many others!” Sniffling, Wren pulls away from me and searches the woods. “I need a tissue. Badly need something to wipe my nose. Don’t look at me!”

I grab a few leaves off a plant and hand it to her. “Here.”

With her hand hiding her dripping nostrils she glances to my offering, stares at it, then locks eyes with me. “That’s Poison Ivy.”

I fling it away from us and reflexively step away from the source. “Fuck!”

Wren laughs, and the sound is so welcome that I milk it.

Dancing around like it’s all over me I cuss so much that wherever my Grams is, I know she’s shouting, Language! purely from familial telepathy alone. I wipe it off on my slacks, hooting like I’m on fire.

It works—Wren cracks up, covering her nose with both hands so snot doesn’t go everywhere. It’s a futile attempt though.

I dance over to a tree, a spastic jubilee of motion, snatching safe leaves with my left hand and dance them over to her. “You got a little river of something there.”

She tries hard to compose herself, turning around and blowing her nose. “Um…ew…need more.”

“I’m on it!”

It takes a whole tree, seems like, but as soon as her face is back to normal-ish, we quiet and I think the worst of her shock and anger is over. At least that’s what I’m hoping, because watching her punish herself for that guy’s actions made me feel the most helpless I’ve ever been.

“You want to keep walking? Do you have to be anywhere?”

She shakes her head, “No, I don’t want to go home yet.” Stealing a glance at me. “Do you have to go?”

“Nope. I’m staying right here.”