“Yeah. Just busy.”
“That’s what you always say. Your father and I were talking last night, and we were wondering—why are you still staying there, sweetheart? I thought you’d have come back to New Jersey by now.”
I shift the phone to my other ear, watching the sunlight glint off the storefronts. “I like it here.”
“But you’ve been through so much already with that fire, and now the library—why not give yourself a fresh start? Thalia just started at Caldwell & Dyer, you know. A proper law firm in Jersey City. She says it’s demanding but wonderful.”
Caldwell & Dyer. Of course Thalia landed there. She always had a plan. Straight A’s, early internships, polished ambition. She’s the kind of woman who always knew how to turn every opportunity into something more.
“That’s great,” I say, meaning it, though it sounds flat even to my own ears.
“Maybe you should consider coming back,” Mom continues. “There’s always work here. You could even take some classes again. You were so good with your studies.”
I trace the seam of my jeans with my thumb. “I like helping people here. The town needs it, especially after the fire.”
“And how exactly are you helping?” she asks, soft but pointed.
I open my mouth, then close it. “I—hold on, Mom, there’s a customer. I’ll call you later.”
Before she can protest, I hang up.
The lie sits heavy.
The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m twenty, and somehow everyone expects me to have a direction—a purpose. I thought the library would give me that. Thought organizing shelves, helping kids with their reading lists, and breathing in that familiar smell of paper and ink would make meuseful.
But now that the library’s gone, I’m just… here. Floating. Pretending that I’m making choices when mostly I’m avoiding them.
Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe I should’ve gone with Thalia.
The thought makes my chest tighten, so I push it away and head toward town hall.
Halfway there, I nearly bump into Cora rushing across the street, her arms full of folders and her hair barely holding onto its bun.
“You’re late too?” she says breathlessly.
“Perpetually,” I assure her, forcing a smile.
She laughs, looping her arm through mine. “At least we can blame each other if they glare.”
We hurry inside together, the sound of voices spilling from the meeting room. The mayor’s already talking, his tone measured and official. Something about reconstruction funds and safety protocols. I nod along as if I’m listening, but my mind’s already slipping somewhere else.
I scan the crowd, searching instinctively for familiar faces. No Maddox. No Liam. The empty seats near the back, where they sometimes prefer sitting, are also empty.
I suspected Liam would skip out on this, but Maddox? He’s a firefighter and they work with cops, right? I’m not sure their captain would let him miss this.
I sit anyway, pulling my phone from my bag just to have something to do with my hands.
Social media’s a highlight reel, and tonight it feels like a mirror tilted at the wrong angle. Thalia’s tagged at Caldwell & Dyer, standing in a glass office with skyline views. Ava’s teaching at a university. Jackson’s cataloging rare manuscripts at the Boston Library. Every scroll feels like a reminder that I stayed behind.
Am I making a mistake?
Driftwood’s small, safe, familiar. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ve been hiding here, pretending it’s purpose when it’s really fear. Fear of starting over somewhere bigger, scarier. Fear of realizing I’m not as capable as everyone else seems to think I am.
Cora leans over, whispering, “You okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“Just tired,” I say quickly, sliding my phone face down.
But the question lingers long after the meeting drones on.
