But I don't believe her.
Mama’s eyes drop to the wedding band on my finger. “What are you going to do about Eryx?”
I follow her gaze to the black and gold band on my finger. “I honestly don’t know. But I thought spending some time here, with y’all, would help me figure it out.”
“That’s perfect,” Dallas says, “because I would love to have you cover some of my shifts at the store next week.”
I playfully shove her in the shoulder. “I just showed up and you’re already putting me to work?”
She shrugs. “What else are sisters for?”
I hook my arm around her neck and give her a noogie. She shrieks and yanks out of it. “That’s it! You’re getting it now!”
Before she can grab me, I tear out of the kitchen and up the stairs. House responds to all the ruckus—the bricks clink together and the wooden floorboards rumble as I race up the stairs to my room and slam the door.
A second later Dallas is pounding on it. “Wait until you come out! I’m gonna get you.”
And for once my spirit is lighter.
But as soon as the lightness creeps in, the darkness follows.
I left a place where I didn’t have a choice and came back to another. Maybe control was never meant for me.
The only thing it’s ever brought me is pain anyway.
Chelsea
Ithink about Eryx every hour. It’s painful. It feels like my heart keeps breaking.
Since I’ve given up the possibility of having any real say in my life, when Dallas asks if I can cover her shift, I say yes, obviously.
Stepping into the bookshop and inhaling the ink-and-leather scent used to be something that made my chest expand with happiness.
Now it doesn’t even make me bat an eyelash.
When Mama asks if I can shelve books, I say yes. When Emory asks if I can man the cash register, I say yes.
I say yes to everything because what’s the point in arguing?
I’m numb. There’s no other way to explain it.My body is on autopilot.
I hear the familiar swoosh that means someone’s just finished their session in a book. A sound that usually makes me smile doesn’t even have me lifting an eyebrow.
Days melt together. Eryx doesn’t call. I don’t call him either. But part of me hopes that every time the bookshop’s door opens, Eryx will be standing there, telling me he made a horrible mistake, that he will bind us back together.
Then I can look him in the eyes and say,I refuse to be bound to you, not after what happened.
But even that just makes me feel worse.
It’s when I’m leaving for the day that Mama says, “Chelsea, can you take this blueberry bread to Ovie’s house? Your nana made it and she’s insisting.”
I glance down at the foil-wrapped loaf. “Nana made it? Nana who’s a ghost?”
A small smile flicks on my mother’s mouth. “She can do things like that when she wants to.”
Huh. Who would’ve thunk it? “Sure.”
I take the loaf and head out.
