Page 4 of Homesick

“I’m sorry you didn’t get into the same university as me like we planned, but you can’t let a few bad weeks ruin us. We have plans, Blake. I’m going to move back home after school and we’re going to start our life together.”

“Really, Wren? There’s no future for us here. I’ve seen the way you glow when you’re outside of that county line. Do you really expect me to believe that I’m going to be enough for you in four years? If we can’t survive a few weeks apart, then maybe we weren’t meant to survive at all. We made those plans when we were kids. We’re not kids anymore, Wren.”

“That’s it then,” I whisper between shallow breaths. “You said I would always be your person.”

“I’m sorry, Wren. We’re done.”

I sit there for a few moments, still in disbelief. I wonder who the man sitting next to me is because he’s not the man I thought would love me forever.

“Wren, you’ve got to go. I can’t do this,” he says, starting up his truck.

My entire body feels numb when I reach for the door handle. My mind feels like it’s left my body and is watching the scene unfold from above. Every inch of my heart cries out in agony when my feet hit the gravel.

I slam the truck door shut and expect Blake to rip out of the driveway. Instead, he hovers for a second. In one last moment of bravery, I turn toward his window.

For a moment, I swear I see the tears dripping across his cheeks, but I dismiss it for the condensation painting the window. We make eye contact for barely a moment before he finally throws the truck in reserve.

Ten years of my life turned upside down in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Initially I thought the hose was a great idea to wash away the shame caked on the back of my jeans, but I forgot how cold the water from the well was. At this point I’ve gone through every curse word known to man. My poor grandma is probably turning over in her grave right now with all the class and sophistication occurring in front of our family home.

I’ve almost washed the last of the cow shit off when I see my sister-in-law racing down the driveway in her tiny Toyota Corolla. I still can’t believe my brother convinced her to marry him. They were one high school relationship that lasted.

Ashley leaps out of her car and comes barreling down the walkway with three boxes of pizzas. She stops once she spots me, and it takes her a moment to take in the scene.

“Wren, you’re home! Also, what the hell happened to you?”

Before I have a chance to respond, I hear the crunch of gravel. Sure enough the mystery black truck is driving past us and out of the driveway. Ashley waves while trying to balance the pizza in one hand. I avoid any chance of awkward eye contact and keep my head down. I’ve had enough of those green eyes for one day.

Ashley turns back to me, and it suddenly clicks in her head.

“Oh.”

It seems like everyone in this family is clued into why my ex-boyfriend was just here other than me.

“What do you know that I don’t,” I question, still dripping wet from my embarrassment.

“Crap. You don’t know that Blake and Chris are friends again. Chris said he talked to you about it, but judging by your expression, he did not.”

“No. No, he did not.”

I’m not sure how to feel about this new piece of information. I almost feel betrayed, but I know I have no right to be upset. Blake was Chris’s friend before we started dating so I should’ve seen this coming. However, it doesn’t lessen the blow. Chris was my rock after Blake broke my heart, but we’ve grown apart since I’ve been away, and I can feel the distance even more now.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been six years and Chris can be friends with whoever he wants. It’s not like we’re the Hatfields and McCoys or anything.”

Desperately wanting to escape this conversation and the pity I see growing on her face, I excuse myself and tip toe up to my childhood bedroom before I run into Chris or my parents. It’s one thing to keep my emotions in check around Ashley, but I know if I see one of them, they’ll instantly see the hurt on my face.

As soon as I make it to safety, I whip out my phone and dial the only number that can make it all better.

Emma picks up on the first ring. After being my best friend for the past twenty-four years, it’s like she has Wren ESP or something.

“You actually called me so there must be something wrong.”

“No. Well, maybe. I honestly don’t know. Would you be able to pick me up and then promptly feed me alcoholic beverages until I inevitably puke in the bushes tonight?”