“I grew a brain.”
“You’re miserable because you miss him and you’re too stubborn to do anything about it,” Riley says, calling me out.
She’s not wrong. It’s been a week since Maggie brought the folder. A week since I’ve been staring at the business listing for hours while spiraling into anxiety. A week of texting Jax about chickens and weather while carefully avoiding anything real.
I’m a coward. A coward surrounded by Christmas.
My phone buzzes.
JAX: Emergency. The chickens are staging a protest again.
Despite my foul mood, I smile.
SLOANE: What are their demands?
JAX: Better nesting boxes. Organic feed. Weekends off. They’ve made signs.
SLOANE: Signs?
JAX: Okay, I made the signs. But they’re holding them. Kind of.
SLOANE: Pictures or it didn’t happen.
A photo comes through. Jax holding a chicken, the chicken holding a tiny sign that says,‘FAIR WAGES FOR FAIR EGGS.’
I laugh out loud.
SLOANE: That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
JAX: Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.
SLOANE: Too late. I’m showing everyone.
JAX: Traitor.
I’m still smiling when Riley pulls into the parking lot of the coffee shop where we’re meeting Maggie.
“See?” Riley says. “He makes you happy. Why are you fighting this?”
“I know. I’m processing.”
“You’ve been processing for a month. At some point, processing becomes avoidance.”
I don’t have an answer for that.
Maggie is already inside, laptop open, surrounded by papers. She looks tired. Dark circles under her eyes. Her hair not quite as perfect as usual.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat across from her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just busy.” She closes the laptop. “Work stuff.”
“How’s that going?”
“Still hate it. Actually, I gave my notice today.”
Riley and I both freeze.
“You what?” I gasp.
