Would I have stayed angry? Or would I have waited for him?
Would I have made different choices?
What if—
My cart slams into something hard. It’s loud and rattles through my arms.
“Oh my…” I splutter. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” The apology spills out of me automatically as I look up. My breath hitches as my gaze lands on familiar cerulean blues. The outer rim is darker than normal, but it matches the dark spots beneath his eyes.
Jett.
His cart is angled slightly, one hand still gripping the handle, the other braced against the side to keep it upright. Our eyeslock, and for a second, no one speaks. It’s like the entire store fades away.
He starts to say something, but I cut him off.
“I’m sorry,” I say again quickly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s fine. I should’ve been watching where—”
“No, it was me.”
We both freeze after fumbling over apologies. It’s awkward because we never used to stumble over words. Silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable. Jett removes his cap and runs his fingers through his disheveled hair.
“About dinner—”
“I need to check out,” I blurt, cutting him off again.
“Wren, I think we need—”
I raise my hand, stopping him. “I can’t do this right now.”
“When can you?” he snaps.
My chest feels tight. Too tight. If we start this conversation in the middle of this store, I might not be able to hold everything in. I'm not ready to let it out. Or have my truths be the talk of the town.
Not here, and not like this.
His gaze drops to my cart, the corner of his lip twitching.
I glance down and realize what he’s staring at. The packages of honey mustard pretzel bites in my cart.
“I still can’t get enough of these,” I admit quietly. “I didn’t have them a lot while I was in LA.”
Because a certain someone didn’t like junk food and threw it away whenever I bought them.
Something shifts in his expression. Not quite a smile, but something close.
I push my cart past him before I can second-guess my actions. “I’ll see you around.” My voice sounds weak, and I hate showing my weakness.
“Wren—”
I hear him call out, but I don’t stop. I move through the checkout like the place is on fire before nearly jogging acrossthe parking lot. I don’t stop moving until I’m pulling into my driveway, and even then, I go through the motions as if the world will stop if I do. And maybe it will, because if I stop, I might fall apart.
I’m halfway through putting things away when I hear the knock on my door. My stomach drops with dread and…fear.
Leaving the groceries on the counter, I walk slowly into the living room. With a deep sigh, I reach for the knob. I swear, Jett better not have followed me home…
But it’s not Jett.
