“Cut it out, Pat. You know I don’t mean it in that way.”
Patrick shared custody of his son with his ex and was in the same boat as me—in the sense that neither of us had any interest in bringing a relationship into the mix of our respective responsibilities. We used to hit up the bars a couple towns over to let off some steam, but even that lost its appeal for us lately.
“You saw how Melody was chatting with her last night and they made plans for today. Mel would have hated seeing Stella the way she was this morning.”
“Yeah, you’ve got that right. At least she’ll be in good hands if she’s hanging out with Mel.” Patrick said as a goofy smile hit him. If he didn’t think I saw the way he looked at my sister—and had from the time we were kids—then he had another thing coming. Pat was a great guy, one of the best I knew, but he also had his own demons, and I was protective as hell over my sister.
We said our goodbyes as Patrick headed into the station and I hopped in my truck. I hoped some good old physical labour and chopping down trees would keep my mind off Stella and whoever sent her that note about finding her in another life.
“Hey, boss,” Stan greeted me as I arrived on the site for the day. We had another section of mature trees to cut down for the Johnstons’ order, and in the next few days we’d be processing them in the sawmill. A lot of other logging farms just did the cutting of trees into logs, but with my great-grandpa’s love of construction and building, he wanted to be able to do it all.
“Hey, Stan. What’s Carter’s deal?” At least he was at work, so I wasn’t complaining. Especially after having to chat with him yesterday about his extended lunch breaks.
“Heard his girl left him. Got him all worked up.” There was no doubt about that. Carter looked ravaged and was using a hand saw to cut a log that we had a power tool for. Although the late August morning was still a little cool, the sweat was pouring off him, making his tattoos that stretched from his shoulders to his knuckles glisten.
“Huh. I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone.” Not that I kept tabs on everyone in town, but I figured I knew the guys on my crew well enough to know something like this.
“Yeah. Blaire, I think is her name. Came in just kicking shit around, muttering about it.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him. Thanks, Stan.”
Blaire was one of Valerie’s friends, and if they were anything alike, I could only assume how high-strung Carter was feeling right now.
I guess he and I had that in common today—we’d both be using physical labour to let off some steam.
The quiet walk into town did more to calm my senses than any guided meditation I’d ever found within my noise cancelling headphones when I was in the city. Even with the slight bit of nerves I felt going past the rail house.
Having the space to breathe made me feel as if my life was free and open to the multitude of possibilities. Even though Salt Lake City was huge, my life had always felt so small in that apartment with Nick. But being out here, being able to visually see how far this expanse of land went, showed me how big life was.
And even still, he had found me.
I shook my head to release the thought and reminded myself of theeffort. Nick wasn’t the type to put any effort into anything he did. If he couldn’t buy it or hire someone else to do it, it didn’t get done. There was zero chance of him coming here because that would require too much work on his part.
Flowers, though? Flowers were easy. He was a master manipulator and knew the exact kinds of things to say to get me to go crawling back every time.
Not this time.I brought my consciousness to what was directly in front of me. The flowers along Main Street lit each storefront with pops of colour, and as I took a deep breath in, my lungs were filled with the sweet smell of them. I was surprised to see so many flowers so strongly in bloom for the time of year, lilies of all colours, peonies, roses, asters, and many more I didn’t know the names of. I guess with the flower shop’s greenhouse bursting at the seams, it wasn’t too off course for this little town.
I checked my phone for the time, noting I still didn’t have service, and realized I was much earlier than planned to meet with Melody. Fear had won over breakfast two mornings in a row, but I wasn’t about to let it take over the whole day. And I refused to let it ruin the kindness of the family whose lives I’ve been crashing.
Next to Love in Bloom was a thrift store I must have missed during my wanderings yesterday. It was tucked in close to the side and set back a bit from the curb, but it too had flowers hanging from the sign out front—Something Old, Something New.
“Perfect,” I mumbled as I went to open the door. I could probably find something in here to replace Trixie’s vase that I had broken this morning.
Scratch that, I could have found an army of vases.
Although I had a petite frame, I still felt like a bull in a china shop in this tiny store. It was like a maze of shelving; every piece was unique with every square inch holding some sort of knickknack. I tied up my long hair so it didn’t catch on anything, before I maneuvered around the space, determined not to play a game of dominoes today.
Careful not to knock into the towers of teacups, I tried to fight the feelings of disappointment as I perused the section of glass vases. They were all gorgeous, but nothing was quite as ornate as the one I had broken.
But who was I kidding? Nothing I did would ever be good enough.
“Stop it,” I whispered. Those thoughts were not my own. The voice in my head, although it sounded like my own voice, was distorted and only there because it had been drilled into my head. I made mistakes, but so did everyone.
I was good. I had good intentions and was kind to everyone. I just needed to remind myself of that sometimes.
Once the fog of shame blurring my vision had lifted, I saw the vases differently. I chose one with a slight green tinge that spiraled up and rippled at the top. It wasn’t the same as the one I had broken, but it would suit the greenery in Trixie’s kitchen perfectly, and I hoped it would bring a smile to her face.
“Oh, what a great choice. I have been eyeing this one up for a while,” the woman behind the till said as I placed the vase on the counter. She looked younger than me, which surprised me. I expected whoever worked at this shop to be closer in age of some of the items, not to me. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Her black leather vest obviously still had some age to it, but she was styled so edgythat her pink hair stood out like a sore thumb. And Ilovedit. She was loud and brave, and I didn’t even need to truly meet her to know that she had a confidence that would never waver.
