Chapter Eight
DEAN
I usedto think morning sunlight was energizing—one of thoserise and grindplatitudes that made sleep feel like a personal failing. In Atlanta, the sun came up hard, refracting through a mile of glass and steel before it hit my apartment. My apartment was an open-concept box, dressed in grayscale and chrome. My furniture looked like it had been ordered in a single, hurried click. Which it had. The only decorations were a set of black-and-white prints and a potted succulent that had been dead for months.
It was day twenty-six since I’d left Dove Key, and my desk was stacked with market projections I couldn’t bring myself to care about. My focus was shot. I kept unlocking my phone, my thumb hovering over the Main Street real estate listings I kept telling myself I wasn’t interested in.
As if to punish myself, I tapped to bring up the hopeless text conversations that had started three days after I got back to Atlanta, and the reality of what I’d done—what I’d lost—hit me. The texts where I tried to tell Brynn I’d beenan idiot, and she agreed before telling me to go to hell. Not quite that bluntly, though that was what I deserved. At first, she’d been more polite, informing me she was buying the Corner Scoop and relocating to Dove Key. That text hit me with the force of a sledgehammer.
She was slipping away from me.
I didn’t delete any of the texts. The words were burned into my memory, but I read them again anyway. The last exchange was from a week ago.
Dean: Hey. How are you? I panicked. I’m not proud, but I am sorry.
The three littledots appeared and disappeared for an eternity before her reply finally landed hours later. A clean, polite kill shot.
Brynn: I appreciate that, but you made your feelings clear, and we live very different lives, right? I’m a small-town girl and you’re the big-city man. I wish you the best, but there’s no reason for us to keep in touch. Let’s move on.
I tried one more time.A desperate, stupid Hail Mary.
Dean: I’m sorry again. I’m here if you want to talk.
And next to my text—Read.8:14 p.m.
No reply since.
I locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the couch.I wish you the bestwas the corporate-speak of breakups, a polite dismissal that stung more than anger ever could. She hadn’t just shut the door. She’d locked it, bolted it, and walked away. And I was the one who’d handed her the goddamn key.
The air was thick with the distant hum of downtown. When I first moved here, that noise felt like promise. Now it just sounded like a million people shouting into a void. My second cup of coffee tasted like scorched earth, and my hands shook just enough to make typing a challenge. I blamed it on the caffeine, but the real problem was I hadn’t slept more than three hours a night since that last text.
I tried to focus on the quarterly projections, but my brain kept drifting to images of Brynn’s face as she told me off, the sound of her voice when she called me a coward. I hated that she was right. I hated even more that I missed her so much.
I ran my hands through my hair—longer than I liked—and gave the screen a withering look. I set the mug down so hard it sloshed onto a stack of old conference badges. I didn’t bother to wipe it up.
The phone rang again. Josh’s name lit up, just as it had the last three mornings. I’d let him go to voicemail every time. This time, knowing what he was probably calling about, I answered just to get it over with.
“Mercer,” I said, my voice sharp.
“Don’t hang up,” Josh said. “I’m not calling to talk about my newlywed happiness, okay? I’m calling because Holly is worried about Brynn. And I’m worried about you.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Stop worrying.” I let the silence stretch.
Instead of filling it with platitudes, he said, “You sound like hell, man. What happened in Dove Key? Holly told me about the fake-to-real thing that happened with you two. But why did you bolt and disappear off the face of the earth?”
My first instinct was to laugh it off. Second was to lie. Third—because I was out of defenses—was to just stand there, my own emptiness echoing back through the line.
“I’m fine,” I said finally.
Josh didn’t buy it. “We’re not sure Brynn is. Did you know she moved to Dove Key last week?”
“I know.” A cold wash of shame hit me. “But that’s not my problem.”
Josh didn’t miss a beat. “Look, I don’t know what went down, and maybe it’s none of my business. But Holly says Brynn admitted she misses you. And you sound like someone’s holding your head underwater.”
Josh was the guy who listened, who let you vent, then said the one thing that made you think maybe it wasn’t all pointless. He waited, giving me time. I stared out at the city view that stretched to the horizon, everything measured, perfect, and meaningless.
“I blew it.” My words tasted raw, like gravel. “She got close, and I freaked out. I said some things. Not good things.”
