Lexi is the first person who has texted me, just for fun, ever. I might have to change my number again soon as part of my protocol, but a part of me is trying to figure out if I can text her from the next one or if it’s too risky. The optimistic half of me says it’s worth it for the lightness in my heart every time I’m with this woman.
Rory’s voice, mid-argument with some poor sucker who must’ve tried to test her, floats out to me through the open door before it closes shut with a little bounce.
I was so focused on taking in the town, the other side of the street, the gardening that’s going in on both the east and west sides of the street, the people sat on the benches that line the edge of the sidewalk—and, okay, fine, maybe memories that involve a certain golden-haired, bronze-skinned semblance of an ancient god—I didn’t realize I’d already made it to the New Heights Headquarters.
“Don’t tell me you’re really leaving?” she asks, a big, oversized pout on that plush mouth of hers as her hands drop back down to her sides with a slapping noise.
“Soon as my baby’s up and running, probably in the morning,” I say, more sadly than I meant to.
“At least tell me you’re coming back to visit,” she presses.
A shrug of one shoulder will have to do. I don’t even have it in me to banter with her, to crack a joke, because for the first time since I left my mom all alone in that hellhole of horrible memories, I feel like I’m going to miss someone when I drive away. Lexi, with her fiery insults, fierce comebacks, and infectious, uninhibited laugh, has become one of my favorite parts of this town.
These Weiss women, they make me feel bigger, badder, just by being in their orbit. I like who I am around them. I don’t feel fragile or delicate or in need of defending. I feel like a badass, just because these women are badass, and they lift me up where others might look down.
“If I’m ever in your neck of the woods again,” I relent.
“You don’t have to break down next time, I promise Weston will bend over backward for you even if you’re not a damsel in distress.”
My face heats at the implication in her tone, and she gives me a knowing smirk.
“Have you bent over forward for him yet?” Lexi adds with an even dirtier look, and my face flames. I look around, frantic, wondering who might have heard her, if somehow Wyatt, or one of the town gossips who’s even worse than him, like Ernie or Mrs. Dixon, will show up.
She keeps her earthen eyes locked on mine, pushing me for an answer until I crack.
“No,” I hiss, trying to remain discreet. “Not yet at least.” A smile cracks out on my own face, and she howls, head thrown back, zero fucks given. What must it be like to be her. To have nothing to hide, no reason to not let yourself all out.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you’re positivelyglowingthen?” she presses, still grinning.
“My God, are you a tarot reader or something?”
“Nah, babe. Just really good at telling when someone’s finally gotten some action.” She thumbs in the direction of her sister, through the glass door next to us, and I laugh. “That one and her man used to be about twenty times more miserable, if you can imagine it.” Lexi gives an exaggerated, comical shudder and screws up her face in disgust. “I got better than I wish I were at picking up on the clues. And you, my dear friend? You havegrade A dickwritten all over you.”
I want to make a joke about the way his grade A dickliterallywrote all over me last night, but as is my custom when traveling through pitstops, I keep my mouth shut.
Lexi channels her best Elijah Wood. “Keep your secrets, then,” she says. “But text me about them later, will ya?”
Something in my heart smarts at the thought of having someone to text after I leave town. Wondering what it might be like to not change my SIM card and get a new number in a few more weeks just because it’s my routine. But to pretend I’m normal, and I have the same number for years on end, people to stay in touch with.
For an insane second, I must have some sort of personality transplant, or maybe my Danish was spiked, because I have this impulse to open up to her. To tell her who I am, my past and what’s had me running for so long. That maybe she won’t judge me for it the way everyone else who’s ever known has before, that maybe I’d be safe here with these kind people. But I’m smarter than that.
I curl my fingers in a small wave at her, and she knows this is goodbye.
Someone else comes out of the New Heights building as Lexi and I are hugging, and I hear Rory’s voice tumble out of the door. “You’d better be coming in here next, Amelia!”
Rory’s stepdad, a silver fox with graying hair and a smooth jawline nods in greeting to me as he passes, the door shutting behind him as he heads down the street, in the direction of the bar.
Lex gives me a quick peck on the top of the head and starts to walk away, long denim skirt swishing with her curves as she does. “Until next time, Big Momma,” she calls out, and I have to turn and head into the office before I embarrass myself further. If public tears enter the equation I might have to change my nameagain.
And dammit, I’m kind of attached to Amelia Marsh now.
It’s not fierce like some of the first names I chose. Avery Flint was one I was particularly fond of and stuck with for a couple of years before changing it again. It sounded strong to me, sharp. Like someone assholes wouldn’t fuck with. Eventually I just wanted to blend in rather than scare people off, and by the time I settled on Amelia Marsh, well, I just think it suits me at this point.
And if I can confess one more thing, I’m so tired of changing everything about me all the damn time. Just being myself suddenly has an appeal it never really has before.
The glass door shuts behind me, just short of a slam, and I adjust to the new environment. I can see Rory at her desk in the far corner, a wizened older man sitting at one of the chairs in front of her, bickering away like crazy, so I busy myself taking a thorough peek since I’ve yet to visit this place.
One of the smaller properties on the downtown stretch of Main, the New Heights Headquarters is chic and minimalist, decorated in shades of gray with stark black accents. A few chairs and a modern coffee table in the front of the office serve as a sitting area.
