Inside her house, she let herself fall apart all over again.
She cried for Braden, who'd found the courage Celeste couldn't seem to summon and for herself, trapped in a cage of her own making.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand with a text from Braden:I love you. Whatever you're going through, I'm here. Always.
Celeste didn't respond. She just curled up on her side, still in her clothes, and let the darkness take her.
Tomorrow she'd figure out how to keep living this half-life she'd chosen, how to work and smile at clients and pretend her heart wasn't broken.
But tonight, she let herself mourn, let herself feel the full weight of everything she'd lost.
And wondered if there would ever come a day when it didn't hurt quite so much.
Chapter Twenty
Ruby
Ruby didn't see the point in staying for the rest of the festival or enjoying the art, music or chaos she'd been so excited about. Instead of participating in more activities, she checked out of the hotel at dawn, threw her bag in the rental car, and began driving.
She wanted to fly straight to Arizona, collapse on her mother's couch and cry until she ran out of tears. But she'd promised to pick up Sparkle, and Ruby kept her promises even when her heart was breaking.
So she drove. North through Louisiana, into Arkansas, then Tennessee. The landscape blurred past—gas stations, exit signs for towns she'd normally want to explore and roadside attractions that would have called to her like sirens just a week ago.
For the first time in her life, she didn't take detours. She didn't stop for quirky diners or scenic overlooks. She just drove, the silence in the car heavy and oppressive, pressing down on her chest until breathing felt like work.
The stuffed alligator Celeste had left behind sat in the passenger seat, looking slightly deranged with its googly eyes and ridiculous grin. Ruby had grabbed it on her way out of the hotel, unable to leave it behind. Now it stared at her, an accusatory witness to her misery.
“Don't look at me like that,” she muttered, reaching over to turn thealligator so it faced the window instead. “I'm aware I'm pathetic.”
The alligator said nothing in reply, which was probably for the best.
She turned on the radio, searching for distraction. Every station seemed to be playing love songs, sappy, romantic declarations that made her chest ache. She cycled through country songs about heartbreak and rock ballads about love lost and found again. It was like the universe was mocking her.
She finally settled on a true crime podcast and tried to focus on murder instead of heartbreak. It didn't really help.
Her mind kept circling back to New Orleans and to the note that had said everything and nothing at once.
The words played on repeat in Ruby's head, mixing with her own hurt and the terrible, persistent ache of missing someone who'd made it clear they didn't want to be missed.
By the time she reached the veterinary clinic in Chester Falls, Ruby's eyes were gritty from lack of quality sleep and her back hurt from driving for so long.
But the thought of seeing Sparkle gave her something to hold onto in a week that had gone spectacularly wrong.
Dr. Zimmerman greeted her with a welcoming smile. “Good to see you, Ruby! Sparkle's been doing wonderfully. Come on back.”
The bird was in a large cage in the recovery room, hopping from perch to perch with surprising energy. When she saw Ruby, she chirped excitedly, ruffling her feathers.
“Hey, Sparkle girl.” Ruby made sure her voice was even, so Sparkle wouldn’t be scared as she opened the cage door. The bird hopped onto her finger immediately, nuzzling against her palm. “Look at you. All healed up.”
“The wing’s yet to heal completely,” Dr. Zimmerman said. “She'll never be quite as strong as before, but she can fly short distances and will be able to survive in the wild if you release her. Or you can keep her, if you'd rather.”
Ruby stroked Sparkle's head with one finger, feeling the delicate bones beneath soft feathers. The bird had been broken and was learning to fly again, even if not quite as well as before.
She wondered if she'd be able to do the same.
“I'll keep her, at least for a while. Make sure she's really ready before I let her go.”
“That's kind of you.” Dr. Zimmerman handed her a small travel cage.
