“It’s too fast, I know. But he’s getting there.” It was a good thing my new lease was month-to-month, because the second Darren came to his senses, I wasgone. “He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”
“Mm,” said my mother, and didn’t elaborate. “When I was your age, I wasn’t thinking about settling down with anyone; I was wining and dining my way across Europe. I still think a proper vacation would do you some good.”
“Darren wouldn’t be able to take the time off work,” I reminded her.
She held up her hands in temporary surrender.
We guided Grandpa Milkshake back to the stable to rest. My body was tense from the weight of Mom’s quiet judgment, which was rolling off her in waves.
“I’m going to take Dakota for a ride,” I said, crossing to the other side of the stable where my own horse, Dakota—younger than her retired elders but old enough to have been with me through my entire adolescence of equestrian lessons—nickered excitedly as I approached. Mom and I covered safer topics as I groomed and tacked Dakota, luring me into a false sense of security.
“You know,” Mom said as I started leading Dakota out of the stable, “we still need new photos for the website, new models ...” She flashed me a pointed smile. “If you don’t think your pretty face expertly grooming a pretty horse will attractexponentialamounts of site traffic and encourage people to donate—”
“What? Sorry, can’t hear you, you’re breaking up,” I called back as I rushed to step into Dakota’s saddle and trotted her to the arena.
It wasn’t Mom’s first attempt to convince me to pose for pictures for the sake of our fundraising website, and it wouldn’t be her last. I’d given up explaining to her that I wasn’t about to plaster my face all over the internet for people to pick apart my numerous flaws: my shirt wasn’t even fitted, I was still bloated from a week of vacation, and cameras added ten pounds—
No, thank you.
I urged Dakota into a canter, focusing instead on the burst of adrenaline from the running high.
I stayed at the sanctuary until lunch and helped around the ranch. Mom was clearly thinking about catching her second wind by then, either about Darren or about modeling, so I made my goodbye quick as I hopped in my car smelling decidedly of horse.
I should’ve gone straight home—or rather, to my temporary apartment—but I really wanted to swing by my usual café-bakery to pick up my custom coffee blend for tomorrow morning. Vegan bakeries were a dime a dozen for miles in any direction, but Latte for Work was always open, mostly for the college crowd.
As expected, the place was packed with students spending their afternoon engulfed in the delicious aroma of French roast and baked goods. That wasn’t unusual. Whatwasunusual was a young man in the corner.
He looked about the age of the average patron, maybe just out of high school or early college. He was holed up in the corner booth—a coveted position especially during the busy hours—a laptop open in front of him that he very much wasn’t using. I paid for my coffee beans and turned back to the booth, and the boy hadn’t moved a single inch. His eyes were unfocused, staring off into the middle distance. Was he even breathing?
I was familiar enough with silent panic attacks that I had to check.
“Hey,” I said, as gently as I could, stepping next to the booth. “Are you okay?”
For a split second the boy didn’t react, which was concerning. But then he seemed to snap out of his reverie, his eyes—wide and blue but bloodshot, had he been crying?—focused up at me.
“What?” he asked, in a voice that suggested he’d temporarily forgotten where he was.
I gestured to his neglected computer and the untouched drink beside him. “I didn’t mean to bother you, but I saw you sitting over here looking a little out of it, and I wanted to see if you’re okay?”
“Oh, um.” He glanced down at the computer. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m good. I was... you know, having an existential crisis. Figured I may as well eat a donut while I’m at it.”
There was only a drink on the table, not even a plate or napkin to suggest there’d been any food present. “You ... don’thavea donut?”
He stared at the table and sighed, his head falling to his chest. “Knew I forgot something.”
I didn’t normally sit with strangers at a cafe, especially when I needed to get home and shower, but I couldn’t leave this poor kid—up close it was clear that he was pale, probably sleep-deprived, and judging from the intended donut, maybe starving?
“I know all about the good ol’ existential crisis,” I said cheerfully as I sank down across from him. “The good news is you’re still young—once you’re over here at the ripe old age of twenty-five, you start feeling like maybe life is getting away from you a bit.”
He blinked. “The getting-away-from-me part worked well enough,” he said, rolling his neck and resting his head against the back of the booth. “Thought I could do the whole adulting thing, and yet. Here we are.”
“Here we are. So you’re, what, going to school around here?” I nearly slapped myself. “Sorry, I’m Lucas, by the way; should’ve led with that.”
He gave me a serious little nod, shocks of wavy black hair cresting his forehead. “Skyler. Evans. Yeah, I signed up for summer classes at Norsemen.”
Ah, the old alma mater. “Okay, moved to California for school, classic.” I shot him another friendly grin. “You have family here?”
Skyler shook his head slowly, giving me a thin, close-lipped smile. “Nope. My family’s back in Washington. Where I could be right now instead of sitting in the corner of a vegan bakery in California wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind.”
