“Please tell me you weren’t going to move here for me. That’s way too much pressure,” he says, hurling a cold and bitter realization at me.
“It felt right,” I whisper, searching his face for any last tendril of hope I can find. “I… l—love you, Knox.”
His expression doesn’t soften. He doesn’t open his arms or smash his lips against mine like they do in the movies. Three words can’t magically fabricate the connection I thought we had.
“Emery, you were supposed to leave at the end of summer. This—us—it wasn’t supposed to get serious. I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend.”
The words rip through me, but I make myself stand still and ruminate in the pain. I want to remember this feeling.
“Don’t worry,” I manage, pushing all the emotion out of my voice. “I get it. But let’s not wait until the end of summer. I don’t want you to have to let me down easy.”
His head snaps up. Something clicks inside his brain and his eyes shift. I’d like to think he’s registering the damage he’s done here tonight.
When I turn around, he tries to grab my arm, but I escape him. And when I walk away, I don’t look back. Not once.
I inhale deeply through my nose and close my eyes. For amoment, I reach back to the memories that made me think this was something more, but it’s no use. They’ve all been ripped to shreds in mere seconds.
The boy who held the key to my heart just proved he doesn’t deserve to use it ever again.
“I’m fine, Eve. Give it a rest already,” I groan into my phone. I set down the can of dark chestnut stain and switch the device into my other hand before plopping down on the couch in my new living room.
“You’re so not fine. Who quits their job, breaks up with their boyfriend, and moves to the middle of nowhere out of the blue?”
My sister’s hysterical voice makes me smile even though her protective older sibling act is bordering on irritating. There was a time when we weren’t this close. She is two years older than me, and for most of my childhood, I idolized her while she stuck her nose up at me.
And then there were our parents, who tried to pit us against each other, but that’s a whole other thing, I’m sure, that will continue to keep my therapist in business. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
But long story short, she’s one of my favorite human beings, and I understand why she’s concerned.
“You just described the plotline to all of those Hallmark movies you obsess over and make me watch every holiday. This could be a good thing.” If you consider risking everything for love. I would never give up my dream and agree to run a Christmas tree farm in the middle of nowhere for some man.
“Erggg,” Eve groans, her own frustration mimicking mine. “You will not distract me from this very importantissue by baiting me into a debate about Hallmark movies again.”
She’s right. I did do that. I rarely manage to outsmart my dear sister. The woman is a whole-ass doctor, for Christ’s sake.
“Listen, Eve,” I say, letting out a deep sigh. “This didn’t come out of nowhere. I’ve been looking for a change, and Grandma just so happened to answer my prayers by leaving me her shop. This is my chance to finally pursue my passion and see if I’m any good at it. If it all goes to shit, then I’ll sell the shop and move back to the city. I’m not stupid. I have a plan.”
“I hate to break it to you, Ree, but you’re not going to make any money selling upcycled furniture. Plus, you’re turning your hobby into a job, and that never ends well.”
Now that I mentioned how much I love my sister, I feel like it’s appropriate to mention how much she pisses me off sometimes. As a quintessential Type A, she doesn’t understand the concept of taking risks. I like to imagine she has her five-year plan mapped out carefully on a spreadsheet with graphs and color codes that would give me a headache. And that works for her, but not me.
“I’m not turning it into a job,” I mumble, dragging a hand through my greasy hair before remembering the stain remnants I didn’t do a great job of cleaning off. Oh well. I need to wash my hair anyway. “I’m turning it into a life. One I actually want to wake up to.”
Another pregnant pause fills the phone line, and I picture Eve pacing back and forth in the break room of the hospital where she works. “I’m just worried about you. You’ve been through a lot this year, and I don’t want you to run away from your problems. They always come back to haunt you.”
“I know,” I agree softly, “but I’m not running away. I’m simply shifting my direction. Plus, I’m over the whole Patrick thing.”
“You mean the thing where he fucked your boss?”
The painful memory replays in my head like a broken record. Yeah, that did suck. It sucked a lot.
“At least I found out he is a cheating asshole now and not after we got married or god forbid, we had kids together.”
“True,” Eve says. “Are you still sure I can’t send one of those glitter bomb things to him? I think it would be hilarious.”
“No,” I answer. “I have faith that karma will come through for me.”
Although it seemed to miss Knox Cooke. I was really banking on the fact that he’d grown a ridiculous beard or at least be sporting a beer gut big enough to put a six-month pregnant woman to shame. But no, he was still annoyingly attractive, and I still found myself drawn to him. Thankfully, my bitterness and ability to hold a grudge was enough to send him the very clear message that I want nothing to do with him…after he fixes my truck.
