“What’s the point?” I ask, voice deadpan. I can’t think, can’t feel. Can’t process anything but the crushing disappointment, turning me to a flat line. Cutting my eyes to the police officersand her colleague, who are all staring at us, I add, “You got what you wanted.”
“This isnotwhat I wanted,” she says, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “You know me better than that, Evan. Youknowme. We’re—we’re?—”
“We’rewhat?” I whisper, stepping closer to her, looking into her eyes. “What are we, Amy? Can you say it? Or is that the point of all the evasion—that you didn’t want to liedirectlyto my face?”
“I—” She opens her mouth, breathing hard and looking panicked. “I—we’re?—”
But she can’t say it. Because it’s not true. I wait for an embarrassing amount of time for her to prove me wrong, for her to tell me that she loves me, but finally she lets out a breath and steps away from the truck door.
My heart splinters into tinier pieces than I ever thought possible. I ignore the pain, the hurting, and focus on going through the motions. Opening the truck door. Sliding inside. Turning the engine and petting Blue absently when she sticks her head under my arm, whining, unsure of what’s going on.
Amy will get a ride back to her car with Nathan, I’m sure.
Instead of heading straight to the lodge, I drive around for a while, not wanting to be in town until Amy is gone. And when I finally head downtown a few hours later, her car isn’t out in front of the bakery.
She’s gone.
CHAPTER 24
AMY
Maybe it’s her sister senses, but Kirstin calls me right as I start my drive back down to Denver. It’s an hour long, and Nathan offered for us to drive together, but I told him to go ahead.
I waited out in front of the bakery until I started to drift off, hoping I’d catch Evan coming into the lodge.
To what? To tell him… what? Even now, I’m not sure I can say anything that he wants to hear. Not sure I can get the words through my lips that would have convinced him I had no idea about this, as much as Nathan made it seem like I did.
When I ignore her first call, Kirstin calls again. So she doesn’t think I’m dead, I ignore the call and send a text instead.
Amy:Driving. What’s up?
Kirstin:Want to get coffee tomorrow morning?
Amy:Not sure, probably have work. I’ll let you know.
The rest of the drive back to Denver passes in silence, my grief and despair wound up so tightly inside me that I’m afraid to evenglance at it, or it might expand like one of those mattresses you get in the mail, unfurling and pinning me under its weight.
I have no idea how things went so wrong so quickly. One second, I was in Evan’s truck with him, laughing and looking forward to the moment we got home, and the next, I was watching him completely close himself up to me. And even worse than that is the fact that I had a chance to fix things. All I had to do was be open with him about our relationship and where I saw it going.
And I couldn’t do it.
My problems don’t even stop right there with Evan. Nathan’s comment about Don makes me think he knows I’ve been in Granite Peaks. That I haven’t been working as much, in order to spend time up there—does that mean a termination letter is coming? It’s not like I lied, exactly, but I’ve also been working with Evan to help him keep his place, which is in direct opposition to the company’s interests.
I worry over it for the rest of the weekend, back in my depressingly empty apartment. I wonder about Evan—if I should text him, if he’s going to forgive me. And on Monday morning, not knowing what else to do, I make the walk to the office, heart pumping.
“Good morning,” Don says when I respond to the summons on my desk and come to his office. I take a seat in the chair, wondering why I even bothered coming into work if I knew I was going to be fired.
“Morning,” I return because I can’t get myself to addgoodto it.
“Well, I suppose we should talk about the Thatcher property,” Don says, his face flat, and I brace myself for the next part—forthe lecture about being fired, perhaps even a lawsuit against me for some hidden clause I’ve violated.
Instead, Don leans forward, slapping his palm on the desk and laughing loudly, the grin that spreads over his face alarming enough to me that I jump in my seat.
“It’s great!” he says, shaking his head and sitting back in his seat. “I know you’ve been putting in a lot of work, taking trips up there to try and get us a new angle. Nathan happened to get to it first, with the state angle, but you should know that I see the determination there, Amy.”
My mouth goes dry. A month ago, I would have been rejoicing over this moment. Praise from Don. Even if it’s completely misplaced and he doesn’t really understand why I’ve been going to Granite Peaks every weekend.
“Even though you weren’t the one to get us the in on that property,” Don goes on, kicking his feet up on the desk in the way that infuriates me but that I can’t say a word about. “We’re putting you up for the promotion to case manager.”
