Swiftcurrent Creek wild women don't get the blues

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Is this a bad time?
Wren did not know if there ever would have been a good one.
Twisting, turning; so many emotions the creekwoman had next to no idea how to grapple with. Where did he go? Why had he been gone for so long? Why now was he here? Why was he treating her as if she were a stranger? Why, why, why—
Bristling, dumbfounded, eyes glazed with the storm of relief and anger and fear and everything that had come over her. Salty and tangy was the taste of her mouth as, after a disconcertingly long silence, she opens it to speak.
Marcus, you can't just-- abandon me for several weeks and then show up at my door, narrowed eyes, bloodshot. Gentleness had long gone out the window, and in its place came the red-hot searing rush of unbridled anger. I-I have a life here. I'm not just, some bitch you can fuck and make empty promises to and then abandon. Are you outta your fuckin' mind?
Not again. Not again would this happen to her, not another man. Not again.