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I shake it off as I sneak back inside, making sure he doesn’t hear me.

The last room I walk into, has the smallest bed. I’m assuming it's an extra room and not the main bedroom. I throw my bag down and take out my sweater. I’ll throw my peacoat over it which should be plenty warm.

I’m still exhausted from my drive across the country. I stifle a yawn as I walk to the kitchen to hunt down some coffee. I rummage through the cupboards and find two mugs. I figure I’ll bring one to Sean too, given I’m stealing his caffeine.

While the coffee’s brewing, I look around at the rest of the cabin. It’s a four-bedroom house, but it’s still a small space. All the rooms look the same, just with different bed sizes. The main bedroom has a hand carved headboard. It’s a light wood, with little dancing bears carved into the corners.

I hear the front door open and I quickly stumble out of the room. I don’t want him to think I’m snooping even though that’s exactly what I’m doing.

“Fire is all set up.”

“Okay, I’m making coffee. Do you want a cup?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll meet you out there.” He closes the door behind him.

I still don’t understand why I’m here. I just gravitate toward him. I couldn’t say no.

Sean is relaxed in a big wooden chair around the fire. The white paint has almost completely chipped off from where people have rested their arms. A matching chair sits just a few feet away from him. I stumble across the gravel with both of the coffees almost spilling over and quickly hand one to Sean. His fingertips graze mine as he grabs the handle, his hands rough against my skin. I swiftly sit on the chair and throw my legs to the side, trying to warm them up.

“I could stay out here forever. It’s so quiet,” I say as I stare into the flames, warming my cheeks. I can feel the heat in my eyes, almost burning.

It brings back memories of camping as a kid. Life was so much easier back then. Now, everything is complicated and sad. The bright side is that little moments like this can help bring back those feelings.

Sometimes nostalgia isn’t a bitch that way.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with a flat look.

I didn’t even realize I was laughing out loud.

“I was just thinking about what it was like when we were teenagers.”

His eyebrows furrow at the memories. Bad ones, I’m sure. Or maybe they were the good ones—and that makes it worse.

His hands are tracing the side of his coffee mug.

I can’t tell if it’s nerves or out of habit. Whatever it is, I like it. I like everything he does.

“The way you were talking in the car earlier, about leaving New York—it almost seemed like you were running from something.” He’s cautious with his words, but curiosity flows off his tongue.

His eyes are gentle, caring.

I suppose I should probably tell him the truth. He’s going to know at some point and it’ll be easier to get it done and over with. Sean’s one of the most understanding people I’ve ever met, but I still can’t help but tremble while speaking.

“Well, umm…” I begin, trying to find the correct wording. “I got married six years ago.”

He blinks rapidly as he quickly glances at my hand, where there is no longer a ring.

I wore it for a couple of months after Graham left. I sold it after we met at the courthouse to officially sign papers. I remember the kid buying it asked if it was a bad omen to buy a ring that lead to a divorce. I couldn’t give him a straight answer. I wasn’t exactly sure.

It only took a couple of weeks to get used to not wearing it anymore.

“Divorced.” I point at the empty finger, his eyes still on it. My pulse is a jackhammer in my ears. “He left me,” I blurt out.

I’m not sure why I’m getting into the minutia of it. It’s embarrassing enough to have to live it, let alone tell him about it. I have to stop running my mouth all the time.

“Oh.” He nervously sits up in his chair, setting his mug down on the gravel. “Why?”

Most people don’t go straight to the ‘why’ part of the conversation. They normally go on about how terrible it is, like I don’t already know.