Salty

Twenty-Nine | Brinner, Dirty Mags, and a Chef's Worst Nightmare

⚠️ Brief mention of self-harm.

Twenty-Nine | Sloan

It was another three-hour drive back to the Mulligan farm. Ollie drove himself, leaving Hallie and me with Penelope Mulligan. I didn't remember leaving the driveway, because as soon as Hallie and I piled into the backseat, I fell asleep in my best friend's lap. As hard as I told myself not to cry anymore, I couldn't stop. Sleeping seemed like the easy way out.

Ollie beat us there. No surprise with his love of the gas pedal. I awoke while being carried bridal style to Penny's spare bedroom, but Ollie didn't stay this time. My hand reached out and found nothing but air, followed by the door clicking shut. Would it have mattered if he stayed in the bed tonight? Probably not. He shouldn't be subjected to my crying over another man. He'd already went beyond what he needed to do tonight.

Everything hurt—my mind, body, and soul alike. This feeling had not been missed the last few months, but it didn't seem fair either. It was because I wasn't thinking of Steve as much. I wanted to so badly. I wanted to hear his voice, and his laugh, or see the way he would dance horribly to make me smile. Those little things were slipping from my memory without realizing it.

Even now, as I laid in a bed just two doors down from where his room was, I wanted Ollie here with me. I wondered if he had fallen asleep yet. I wondered how old he was when he started smoking. How old was he when he had his first kiss? Was it with Shelby? Was it here on this farm? What did he dream about that was so scary? Mostly, I wondered if he could wait until I was ready. After tonight, we both were very aware I wasn't. I worried about what he thought of me. This was the first time he'd really seen me lose it, and it appeared like I was using him as a human shield from heartache. That was never the intention with him. In fact, there was never an intention of any sort with him. Ollie came out of nowhere, and it was the best and the worst time.

I couldn't wait one goddamn year to fall for someone else? What would Steve think of me right now? I pondered that while crying myself to sleep again.

>><<

The Mulligan farmhouse was eerily quiet on this particular Saturday. Where the holiday season had the home bursting with Christmas festivities at the crack of dawn, that was not the case today. The lack of morning cheer could easily be summed up by the fact no one was awake yet. It was four in the morning on a weekend. No one in their right mind would be up this early.

Yet, here I was, wide awake and listening to an abundance of whirling wind and a loud clanking outside of the window. I tried to ignore it and sleep in with the rest of the household, but it was no use. Crawling out of the bed, I stood beside the only window in the room and pushed the white sheer curtains to the side. It was windy, and more snow had fallen in the night. I vaguely recalled the sound of ice tapping on this very window a few hours prior. The large spruce trees that surrounded the farm were swaying so hard they looked like they could snap in half. Though, if they hadn't done so after all these years, with some being at least sixty-feet tall, it would take more than a windy day to break them.

This was the first time I had seen the view from this window, and I regretted not doing it the last time we were here. From this spot, I could see the giant hill we had sleighed down, various barns, silos, chicken coops, hog sheds, and acres of white fields. One barn had a door that appeared to be the culprit of interrupting my sleep. Of all the barns, this one appeared to be the biggest and also the oldest. It was at least two stories high and made of splintered, gray-colored wood that looked to have seen better days. Of its two oversized doors, one was currently hanging by nothing but its upper hinge. The clanking sound seemed to come from the door, blowing freely. With it hanging at an angle instead of upright, the upper right corner was hitting the other door.