Eat alone in public.
Do something spontaneous.
I heave a breath and sit back, taking it all in. I’m twenty-seven years old and haven’t done these things. I wonder …would my sister have done them by now?
I bite my lip and add one final thing.
Make Anna proud.
Seeing my sister’s name in print makes my chest burn with emotion.
What would she have been like?That’s a question I have often wondered over the years.Would we have been best friends? Would she understand me like no one else really does?
I hate that Anna isn’t remembered—that her short life wasn’t deemed important enough to celebrate. She didn’t get the chance to do any of the things I’m fretting over, and that realization stings.
I’m too scared to be fully myself, and Anna didn’t get a chance to be anything at all.
The truth crashes over me, heavy and unavoidable. I don’t fight against it. The shame of wasting my life, of allowing myself to be underrated—of treating my life like it’s expendable and not a gift to be treasured—settles in my soul.
Because that’s the truth. I’m wasting this one, precious life.Why?
There isn’t an acceptable answer.
“No more,” I say, clarity wiping all fog and uncertainty out of my head. “No more wasting time.”
I move the cursor and add another line, placing it between “flirting” and “taking a self-defense class.”
Learn how to give a blow job.
“Might as well be thorough while I have the guts,” I say.
I glance at the clock. It’s already eight thirty on a Friday night—but it’s not too late.
A wave of energy hits me like a tsunami, and I get to my feet. Before I can talk myself out of it, I head to the shower. Because if I’m going to stop hesitating, I’m going to be fresh and smooth everywhere.
My smile stretches across my face as I accept my decision.
I’m going to do this.
Oh, my stars.
CHAPTER
TEN
Audrey
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mutter.
My Jeep beeps behind me as I lock the door and place one foot in front of the other toward Patsy’s. I can’t help but second-guess my wardrobe decision as I pull my pink cardigan closed, warding off the brisk night air.
I’m trying to walk on the wild side, and I wear a cardigan?I’m hopeless.
Music floats across the broken sidewalk as I approach the door. It’s nineties country, which I know and love, and that helps. There’s no security, which seems to jive with the half-lit beer advertisement glowing in the window.
“This is great. It’s a casual kind of place,” I say, trying to ward off a bout of nervous energy threatening to spiral down my spine. “And it’s another bout of spontaneity. That’s a win.”
My feet falter just before I reach the entrance, succumbing to the pleas from my brain to save myself from the unknown and return to the cabin. I turn instinctively toward the Jeep, my body acting on impulse. A voice echoes in my head with preparedexcuses—did I leave the straightener plugged in? Shouldn’t I run back to the cabin and make sure I locked the door?
