“Are you unpacking now to check if everything made it?”she asks, glancing at her phone. Her fingers tighten around it, and a small crease forms between her brows.
I don’t get a chance to answer before she lets out a groan. “Shoot, I’ve gotta check on D—” She stops abruptly, something flashing across her face too fast for me to read. “Uh, I just need to run home and see Dillon before he leaves for work.”
The words are normal enough, but the delivery is off. What’s going on with her?
I don’t like to push. Bree will tell me things when she’s ready. That’s always been our unspoken rule. But she’s dodging my eyes and is fidgety in a way that isn’t like her.
Dillon’s working tonight. That’s what she said. So, why does it sound like she’s covering for something?
“No problem…” I say slowly, studying her.
If something wasreallywrong, she’d say it.
Wouldn’t she?
I hesitate for half a second, debating whether to let it go. The way she’s acting doesn’t sit right.
“Bree.” I soften my voice, hoping she won’t shut down the second I ask. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” she says too quickly, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal. There’s something about the way her shoulders tense that makes me absolutely certain she’s hiding something. I’ve known her long enough to recognize when she’s putting on a brave face.
The logical part of me knows people deal with things in their own time, in their own way. But I thought I was the one person she didn’t have to pretend with.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
She meets my eyes for just a second before looking away, her usual sparkle dimmed. “Of course. It’s just…relationship stuff.”
That’s vague. Way too vague. And I could press,but something tells me I won’t get much more than that. Whatever’s going on, she’s not ready to talk about it.
I force a small smile, nodding even though the unease in my gut doesn’t go away. “Okay,” I say, letting her have the out she clearly wants. For now.
She grabs her purse from the counter and pauses on her way out, turning back to give me a quick hug. “You’re gonna be okay, right?” she asks, her voice softening enough to let me know she’s genuinely worried.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“All right. Call me if you need anything.”
With that, she dashes out the door, and I shut it behind her with a sigh. The suitcase sits in the center of the foyer, glaring at me like a reminder that I’ve been avoiding something. I guess it’s finally time to unpack.
I pull the suitcase into the bedroom, tossing it onto the bed with a soft thud that echoes in the otherwise quiet room. This bag isn’t just holding my clothes and shoes. It’s also carrying all the things I’ve been running from. My emotional baggage, literally and figuratively. The irony isn’t lost on me, and I let out a small, almost bitter laugh.
Shit. I’m definitely losing it.
I tug at the zipper a little too aggressively until it finally gives. The scent of sea air and rain rushes in, making me pause for a second. It’s a bittersweet pull tugging me back to a place that feels both impossibly distant and achingly close.
My hands are shaking as I continue pulling clothes from the suitcase. Then, I feel something tucked beneath everything else.
I pause, brushing my fingers over the worn leather pouch. It’s small but sturdy, aged by time and handling. It’s deep brown with creases that whisper of years gone by. My stomach twists. I don’t recognize it.
My hand lingers there, suspended midair. Like it’s bracing. I suck in a breath that doesn’t quite make it all the way down and pull the flap open.
There’s something solid inside. My fingers close around cool metal, and I pull out a compass, brass and old, dulled by time and touch. My heart stutters. Along with it is an envelope. It’s addressed to me, and the handwriting… It’s his.
Everything I’ve been running from is tucked inside, all neat and contained, like my entire world hasn’t already been flipped upside down. I try to calm the wild thumping in my chest, but it’s useless. I slide my finger under the seal, the paper resisting for a split second before tearing.
As it unfolds in my hands, my mind races ahead, too fast, too frantic, a thousand questions colliding all at once. There’s only one that really matters.
Do I want answers?
