“My God, that was a lot. I’m sorry,” I say through an embarrassed laugh.
“Looks like you needed that,” she says, her hand wrapping around my bicep, then sliding down my arm until our hands meet.
“You said Hunter. I’m guessing he’s . . .” She narrows her gaze on mine, studying me for clues, and I’m sure she’s drawing the typical conclusions. I don’t want her to think Hunter’s someone he’s not, so I shake my head.
“He’s wonderful, actually. He asked me . . .” I quake with a heavy breath, then bite my lip to steady myself and focus. “He asked me to Dallas with him, to move in together. Or to go back to school if that’s what I want. Or to let him come back here every week or two, as long as he could see me.”
Daisy’s mouth morphs into a laughing smile, and my head fall to the side.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I beg.
“Oh, no. Ren, hon. I’m not laughing like that. It’s just, my God, are you me or what?” She laughs a bit harder this time, but I can read the empathy in her eyes, so it doesn’t sting as much.
“Come sit,” she says, moving me to the business office at the back of Earl’s. She hands me her makeup bag, then rolls two chairs together and grabs a small mirror from her desk drawer.
“Here, I got you. Do your thing,” she says, holding the mirror up so I can fix the mess I made of the little makeup Idowear.
“How am I you?” I ask as I run a cotton swab under one eye, cleaning up the smeared eyeliner from my meltdown a few moments ago.
“You know Roddy asked me to come with him when he got called up, and I didn’t go. Sure, we were different. And he wasn’t ready the way Hunter is, but still. I can’t help but wonder sometimes—a lot of times—what if?”She shifts the mirror so our eyes meet.
“What if?” I echo.
She shrugs and holds my gaze, mashing her lips with her thoughts.
“What if I got it wrong?”
She draws in a deep breath through her nose, and I hold my lungs full at the same time. That’s a huge confession for Daisy to utter, and I feel honored, and a wee bit terrified, that it was my ears she gave it to.
“Are you saying maybeI’mgetting it wrong?” Because I’m sure I am. No matter what I choose, it’s going to be wrong. I’ve become a self-defeatist. And that’s part of my problem.
Daisy takes the makeup bag from me and moves the mirror to her desk before pulling out a small eye pencil.
“Shut your eyes,” she says, and I do as she asks. My skin pricks with the sharp edge of her eyeliner, but I hold still as she does my face for me, dusting my cheeks with a bronzer next, then touching the corners of my eyelids with a faint gray shadow that gives my face just enough color to look like it’s attached to someone who slept.
“Here,” she says, holding up the mirror for me to inspect. I look nice. A bit extra than I’m used to, but nice. And alive.
“All I’m saying, Ren, is that this is Sweetwater. It ain’t far from Dallas. So if you get it wrong, you can always come back.”
Her eyes level on mine with a hard stare, one forged in kindness for sure, but it’s not wrapped in kid gloves. It’s honest. And she’s right. And that’s exactly what I needed to hear.
“Daisy, I think I . . . I think . . .” I get up from the chair and look around the office, at the calendar where my name is scribbled so many times. My pulse is racing again, but I don’t feel like I’m going to faint this time. This feels like I need to run. And fast.
“I think I quit,” I blurt, and a manic laugh follows that I cover with my palm.
“I kinda thought you might,” Daisy says, getting to her feet and opening the office door.
She leans her head to the exit, and I wrap my arms around her, uttering, “Thank you,” into the crook of her neck.
I sprint across the empty bar, pushing through the front door and letting bright sunlight spill inside as I race into it. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Hunter immediately, fumbling for my keys to the Jeep, then fumbling them again to get the damn key in the ignition. I redial when the call goes to voicemail, and at the same time, press the gas and reverse my way out of the Earl’s parking lot. My tires squeal on the roadway as I shift into drive and race to Roddy’s house, where I hope I find Hunter’s truck parked outside.
As I round the corner, the street is empty, but I hold out hope that maybe Hunter pulled into the driveway or the garage. But the closer I get, the more reality hits me. I missed him. He’s already gone. My heart breaks by the time I pull to a complete stop, and I drop my face into my hands as I ruin my makeup for a second time this morning.
“You all right, Renleigh?” Roddy’s voice hits my ears through the ragtop of my Jeep, and I shake with exhausted laughter. I peel my fingers away to find him standing in the middle of his garage with a broom. His truck is covered in dried mud, and he’s sweeping up the chunks.
I get out of the Jeep and let my feet plop onto his driveway, then let my arms weigh at my sides, threatening to pull me to the ground.
“I missed him, huh?”
