My Wrath is a Mirror | ONC 2022

Eleven

The next project to tackle might be the death of me. Late Sunday afternoon after pulling the last bolt out of the merry-go-round and rolling it into Tyler's truck, I decide to venture uphill to the cabin above the park.

Since my first hike up to the cabin, my endurance has improved drastically with the work we've been doing. I'm at the park from sunup to sundown digging cement out of the ground and hauling heavy pieces of playground equipment into the vehicles only to unload them at the junkyard shortly after. There are muscle groups I didn't know would hurt as much as they have this past week and a half; not even when Loren and I played softball were my muscles so sore. But because of the conditioning labor, I am able to make it up the steep hill without losing my breath. Only the freezing cold hinders my ascent, my feet not wanting to cooperate because of my cold toes wriggling in my boots. I pull my coat tighter around me and climb.

The cabin is as I remember it—lopsided shutters and creaky front porch bordered in overgrown bushes drooping with white flowers, but in the fading daylight I can see that someone has been working on this part of the park. Some of the detritus has been cleared out, pieces of scrap metal left behind from the previous tenant. I figured this may have been the home of the park's groundskeeper decades ago, but it seemed abandoned long before the park closed. I didn't even know it was here as a kid, and I wonder if anyone knew at all.

As I approach the front door, I see a light move inside behind a window. I try the front door, and this time it's unlocked, so I step boldly through the threshold without knocking. I own this place, after all.

But the interior of the cabin is not what I expected. Most of the furniture has been cleared out save for a sturdy oak table and six chairs. The wood is roughly cut, but sanded smoothly on top as I drag my fingers along the length of it. The floors have been swept clean and shine in the light filtering through the windows with a luster of being freshly mopped. I inhale the room's scent of fresh pine, and as I walk into a small kitchen I spot Wesley shining a flashlight up into the cupboards and call his name.

"Holy shit," Wesley yelps, nearly dropping the flashlight as he spins toward me, the beam of light sweeping in an arc across the worn floorboards. When he sees me, he lets out a massive sigh. "You scared the shit out of me."

He's shed his jacket in the warmth of the cabin, and the sleeves of his t-shirt are pushed up, hugging his forearms. My mouth waters when I notice his hair is disheveled in the sexiest way, but as I approach him, I can tell he is more than startled. He's chewing on his bottom lip and balancing his weight from one foot to another and when I realize he's nervous, I rest a soothing hand on his warm forearm.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concern infused in my words. Wesley is usually all confidence and seeing him put off unsettles me more than I wish to be. He pauses only for a moment before handing me the flashlight and taking my free hand in his. I immediately lace my fingers with his, as if we'd done it a thousand times before. It feels so right.

"I wanted to surprise you, but now's a good time as ever," he says with a nervous grin. It takes me a moment to understand his meaning, but when he sweeps his other hand outward, I gasp.

"It's you! You've been working on the cabin?" I gawk, now truly able to appreciate the design of the structure and not worrying about some intruder.

"I started on it the day you told me about it. After I dropped you off, I went back and got to work." His free hand rubs the back of his neck, and seeing him so shy about something like this makes me giddy.

I walk through the cabin hand in hand with Wesley, admiring the ruggedness of it. Even though it was once a simple home, it feels more like a hunting lodge or vacation getaway in the woods. The dining area I came in through is cleared of everything except the huge table and chairs, but most else of the cabin had been gutted of furniture. The only remaining artifacts in the den is the fur rug lying before the wide stone fireplace, a thick layer of dusty gray ash sitting undisturbed inside it, and two wooden rocking chairs on either side of the mantle. Wesley leads me around a corner where we climb the rungs of a ladder to a loft. He has brought in a futon and piled it with pillows and blankets, along with a small table stacked with cards and board games.

"I figured we could all hang out here sometime, since it seems we're the new caretakers of the park for the time being, and we're kind of here all the time. I've already stocked the fridge with food and drinks, and there's running water in the bathroom." He shrugs as if it's nothing, as if this isn't the most amazing thing ever.

"Wes... this is..." I struggle for words, the lump in my throat almost too big to swallow. This is going to be our home base, and regardless of the property purchase, this gesture right here is what makes it feel real. Solid. Permanent. Kamryn's park is really happening. Before I can think twice about it, I jump up and wrap my arms around Wesley's shoulders in a massive hug. When his arms come up around me, squeezing and swinging me from side to side, I feel like I could explode with joy. Out of all my failures, this victory trumps the cloud of negativity that has rained down on me since I arrived in Reading.

"Merry Christmas, Mills," Wesley murmurs against my hair as he sets me on my feet. His old nickname for me sets something in my chest on fire. It's as if I'm his again, even though I know that just beneath the surface of our enchantment, we are two different people than we were before. That doesn't change the fact that despite our past, it seems both he and I are willing to get burned for this.

I lean into his chest for just a moment, breathing in his scent. Though we've been working all day, he still smells clean and so wholly Wesley. I resist the urge to close my eyes and pretend that we can stay like this forever in this moment, but I reluctantly step out of the circle of his arms and look up to those warm coffebean eyes.

"Thank you, Wes. You don't know how much this means to me."

His eyes follow my movements as I cross the room to pick up one of the fluffy throw pillows and hug it to my chest. "There's still a lot that needs to be done, but I guess since I've spilled the beans you're obligated to help me now," he teases. I chuck the pillow at him, but he catches it a second before the tassels smack him in the face. The look on his face tells me I don't know what I just started. He takes one step toward me and I bolt for the ladder like a startled hare, but Wesley hooks an arm around my waist and hauls me off my feet. If I'm being honest, a secret part of me wanted to be caught.

I immediately regret the thought as his fingers press into my ribs and I bark out a hideous laugh. "No fair! You know all my ticklish spots!" I writhe as he tickles me mercilessly, until I'm out of breath and he plops me down on the futon, standing before me in victory. I'm simply too exhausted to care about moving.

"That's what you get for throwing things at people," he chides before offering me a hand. I slowly take it and as he pulls me up, I bring out a pillow from behind me and shove it in his face.

I giggle. "That's what you get for tickling people with no remorse." Retaliation is sweet.

We call Loren and Tyler to come up and see the cabin, and when they arrive, Loren's eyes almost bug out of her head.

"You have got to let me decorate," she says, and I see her hamster wheel spinning. Loren's taste is impeccable, and I know she'll make the place look amazing. Brushing her long hair back over her shoulders, she inspects the craftsmanship of the rocking chairs. "These things are antiques. How old is this place?"

Tyler scratches his head. "Not sure, but I'm glad the inside is in better condition than the outside. Looks are deceiving if you're outside looking in."

That was the plan then—we would work on cleaning up the exterior of the cabin on weekends as we would use the week to work on the grounds of the park. If this is going to be our home base, we would be sure to make it feel like a home.