Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(107)

Finally finding an empty space to squeeze our bodies in among the throng of paradegoers, I rubbed my mitten-covered hands together, shimmying on the spot to stay warm.

“A year down in Vancouver and you can’t handle the cold anymore?” Shelby laughed, despite the fact that her own nose and cheeks were fuchsia, and Cassidy was violently shivering. You would have had to be a literal snowman to not be cold.

“We’re at a parade when it’s twenty below zero. And for what?” I shook my head at her.

Cass pulled a flask from her coat pocket and handed it to me. “Because we’re good citizens of Wells Canyon. Doing our part to be engaged with the community.”

I took a swig of the Fireball, then wiped my lips with the backside of my mitten, grimacing at the hot cinnamon flavor lingering on my tongue. It didn’t help the chill on my skin, but it churned warmth throughout my insides. A second shot did the trick, leaving me fuzzy and flushed all over.

The parade started with a herd of 4-H kids and their animals—a questionable way to start the parade, since they left various types of animal shit scattered across the road for the Wells Canyon High School band to try and dodge while playing instruments.

When a kid stepped directly into a cow patty, Cassidy lost it. Descending into a fit of giggles, she leaned into me, and I gave apologetic smiles to the judgmental old people around us.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cass said, taking a deep breath to compose herself. “God, Wells Canyon really puts on a shit Christmas parade.”

“Hey now, the parade might have literal shit in it. But look! Those kids in elf costumes are adorable,” I said. “Plus, I’ve never heard of another town that shuts down Main Street for a giant game of hockey afterward—have you?”

Shelby looked at me with a threatening stare, cracking her knuckles. “I’m going to fuck some kids up in the game today.”

My mind drifted to a few parades prior, when Denver and I were about sixteen. Our families came together, and when our team won the street hockey game, he spun me around in the middle of Main Street, kissing me while snow fell around us. Like something out of a Hallmark movie.

That haunting memory was already making me feel queasy, but sometime between a parade float for the local church and a tractor covered in Christmas lights, I saw him.

On the opposite side of the street, Denver Wells was at the parade. With another girl. A pretty petite blonde I’d never seen before. His arm around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder.

My heart stopped, seizing with a stabbing pain. Shutting my eyes, I focused on my breathing, scared I was about to die from a heart attack at nineteen.

When I could finally form a sentence, I turned to Cass. “I need to go home.”

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” She looked me up and down worriedly. “You look…rough. Come on, I’ll take you.”

“No, I can go alone. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just…Fireball isn’t sitting well. Fresh air.”

Ignoring that we were outside, surrounded by fresh air, Cassidy nodded slowly. “Okay…text me when you’re home, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded aggressively, already spinning to escape this personal hell.

This is why I don’t come home.

I lied to my parents the Christmas before and said I didn’t feel comfortable driving on the winter roads to come home for only a few days. Mom cried. The truth was I couldn’t bring myself to leave my bed. When Cassidy left two days after the abortion, I called Denver.

He didn’t answer.

And that was the first time my life fell apart. I lay in bed sobbing, sleeping, and hating myself. For the entirety of Christmas break, I survived off saltine crackers and slept upwards of sixteen hours a day.

When school started, I tried my best to go to class, but more often than not I simply couldn’t. I was failing, at risk of losing my scholarships and my seat in the program. I’d lost twenty pounds. And I only hated myself more with each passing day—both for ruining my own life in every possible way, and for lying to my friends and family. Sending cheerful texts daily while lying in bed with bloodshot eyes and matted hair.

Finally my roommate, Ashley, stepped in. She drove me to the hospital to be admitted, contacted each of my professors individually, and cleaned my dorm room while I was gone. When my grippy sock vacation came to a bittersweet end a couple weeks later, she set up a wall calendar in my room with reminders for medications and therapy appointments.

Ashley was there when it should’ve been Denver.

And I didn’t know if I could ever forgive him.

So seeing him happy and carefree only one year later killed me. I stormed through the crowd, desperate to get as far away as possible from this parade. This town. Him. All of it.

“Blair,” he shouted my name. Convinced it was my imagination, I didn’t look back, breaking into a jog as the end of the parade route came into view.

“Blair,” he said again, closer this time. And he grabbed my arm as I rounded the corner at the end of Main Street.

Lip already quivering, I turned to look at him.

“You’re home.” For some reason, it seemed like there was a glimmer of hope in his eye. “I was starting to think you’d never come back.”

“Yeah, well…life got busy.” I faked a half-smile.

“How…uh, how are you?”