A Year of Winter

twenty-three

❄

April 14, 2013

I was 9:32 AM when I got a text from Bronwyn. I opened it more quickly than I thought my fingers would ever allow.

The diner.

I left immediately, without a coat.

❄

It was still cold as the wind nipped at my exposed neck, but once I entered the diner, warmness surrounded me. I could see Bronwyn’s red mane from across the room, and the moment our eyes met, I drifted towards her immediately, my feet taking flight.

I sat down across from her and we both feel silent. I’d worked myself up so much on the car ride over that I found myself with nothing to say.

“I think I have a lead,” she said first.

My eyes lit up, and I could feel my heart pound against my ribs heavily, gasping for release. “What? What is it?” I demanded breathlessly.

She leaned over the table, looking at me seriously. Her eyes were flat, dark, and tired, much like I figured mine must have appeared. I didn’t believe either of us had gotten enough sleep.

“I knew—I still know—that Hunter has to be involved in this,” Bronwyn explained, staring at the marble pattern on the table. “You saw her with him, so I’m assuming that she’s still there.”

I frowned, “That doesn’t sound very reliable. Winter likes to bounce from place to place, so how do we know she hasn’t left?”

“I don’t think she’d leave quite yet,” Bronwyn rebuked. “I don’t think you realize how loaded Hunter is—aside from having to be with Hunter, she’s probably sitting comfortably, waiting for her moment to leave.”

My fists clench at my sides as a sickening thought enters my mind. “What if she just loves him? She might be staying for him.”

“No,” Bronwyn said grimly. Her voice was cold; sterile. She hung her head. “Winter doesn’t love anybody.”

We both fell into a bleak silence. She spoke again, moments after she’d had enough time to let the quiet fade.

“Regardless, I’m worried that she’ll be leaving extremely soon. Now that she has the means to get by on her own, she could be gone any second now, and we need to take any opportunity we can to—”

“—Wait, what?” I interrupted. “What means?”

Her mouth falls ajar, looking upset. She frowned, careful to choose her words correctly. “You…um…I guess you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Her birthday. It was yesterday.”

I felt my stomach turn, my face grow paler. I felt my limbs grow weak, and my mouth dropped in shock. “I missed her birthday?” I exclaimed, aghast.

“I know you’re upset, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that she’s eighteen now, and she—”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know her birthday…”

“Yes, well that’s upsetting, but—”

“—And I don’t even know where she is…”

“I know, but—”

“—I cannot believe this—”

“—Okay, enough,” she snapped, hitting the table with the palm of her hand, pulling me out of my own stupefied version of reality. I blinked, shaking my head.