River was still in the kitchen, only this time he was holding his beer in one hand and a spatula in the other, browning hamburger meat on the stove.
That sight hit me like a semi-truck, because with just one blink I could see him ten years younger, doing the exact same thing in the first house we rented together as a couple. His eyes were softer then, younger, not as worn by life.
I’d loved that boy.
I’d loved him since I was twelve years old, before I could even truly understand what love was at all. I’d loved him through all the hell we put each other through, the ups and the downs, the other boys and girls we used mostly to make the other mad or jealous before always finding our way back to each other.
He was the one.
He was the one I’d married two months after high school graduation, the one I’d moved in with two months after graduation without a single hesitation or concern that it wasn’t the best decision I could have ever made, and the one I swore I’d spend the rest of my life with — going on adventures, having babies, growing old.
It seemed like another lifetime.
The man who stood before me now was nothing I recognized.
Nothing more than a stranger.
I cleared my throat once I’d shoved my airport clothes in my suitcase, and I held my hands in front of the fireplace, trying to get warm again. Moose had settled into a curled-up ball by the fireplace, too, and his tail wagged gently when I bent down to scratch behind one ear.
“Whatcha making?” I finally asked River after enough awkward silence to last me a year.
“Dinner.”
“Obviously,” I said as he drained the meat, setting it aside. He put the skillet back on the stove then and added a heap of butter, and I salivated a little as it sizzled to life. “But what?”
“Shit on a shingle.”
I let out a low, sarcastic laugh through my nose. “S.O.S. How fitting.” Then, my nose wrinkled of its own accord. “I can’t believe you still eat that stuff.”
River shrugged, adding flour to the skillet. “What, you too good for it now?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You might as well have.” He stirred the ingredients together with more force than necessary. “I didn’t expect company, alright? This is what’s for dinner. You can have some or not. Up to you.”
River poured milk into the mixture on the stove without another word or glance in my direction, and I sighed, looking up to the ceiling like God could help me.
“Look, if we’re going to be stuck together, we might as well try to get along,” I said, joining him in the kitchen. I grabbed the loaf of bread off the top of the fridge and pulled out six slices — four for him, two for me — and popped the first two in the old toaster on the counter.
River eyed me, but then his brows furrowed once more, and he kept his focus on the gravy.
“You and me, get along?” He shook his head. “When has that ever been the case?”
“So maybe we try something new.” I leaned a hip against the counter, crossing my arms and watching him salt and pepper the gravy. “God, this stuff looks so nasty,” I said, but couldn’t help the smile that spread on my lips next. “But I’d be lying if I said my stomach isn’t growling at the smell of it.”
Something close to a grunt was the only response I got.
“I remember the first time your dad made this for me,” I said after a moment, trying again for civility. “I think we were fourteen? It was sophomore year, after homecoming. We were drunk, and he was so mad at us.” I chuckled, remembering the way River’s dad had cursed us out the entire way home after picking us up. “But he also couldn’t stop laughing at us. And then he made us this…. this goop,” I said, waving my hand over the gravy. “To soak up the booze,” I mimicked in my deepest voice. “Remember that? And he was telling us how it was a staple meal in the military back in the day, and how his dad had made it for him. And—”
“I don’t really want to go down memory fucking lane, okay?” River slung the ground beef into the gravy mixture he’d made, stirring it a few times before he abandoned it altogether. “Serve yourself.”
He walked away without another word, giving me his back as he retreated into the bathroom.
And I just stood there, shocked silent, wondering what I’d said wrong.
Wondering if it was going to be like this until the snow decided to let me out of this cabin jail cell.Unsurprisingly, we ate dinner in silence — me practically done with my plate by the time River rejoined me to make his, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. I hated that he still had that habit, and found the words to tell him so on the tip of my tongue, but I somehow managed to keep them at bay.