The hiring manager smiled, shook my hand, said they'd be in touch.
Two days later, I got a formal email they'd decided to go with another candidate.
I told myself it happens. The job market is competitive.
I told myself that while my hands shook so hard I had to put down my coffee, while dread pooled in my stomach like something rotting.
The apartment I applied for had a complication with my application.
Missing documentation, the leasing agent said, except I sent everything twice and have the confirmation emails to prove it.
That was four days ago. She hasn't returned my calls since.
The waitressing job at Mae's Diner? Fully staffed.
Even though I watched a ‘Help Wanted’ sign come down from the window two hours after I walked out.
Every door I try to open slams shut in my face.
Coincidence. Bad luck. Transition difficulties. I keep telling myself that.
Keep repeating it like a prayer, like a spell, like if I say it enough times it will become true.
But my instincts are screaming so loud I can barely hear anything else.
I haven't seen Elias since that first night.
Haven't heard his footsteps on the path to the guest house, haven't caught him watching from the windows.
Gracie says he's busy with work. Barely home. Nothing to worry about.
I want to believe her, but I can stillfeelhim.
It's insane. I know it's insane. But he'sthere, somehow, in the weight of the air, in the pressure against my skin, in the waythe shadows seem to thicken whenever I look toward the main house.
I've swept this cottage three times. Checked every outlet, every smoke detector, every vent. Found nothing.
But the feeling doesn't fade.
He's watching me. I know he's watching me.
And I can't prove a goddamn thing.
Today is the town's summer barbecue. Gracie's been talking about it all week.
"You have to come." She sat on my kitchen counter this morning, swinging her legs while I pushed scrambled eggs around my plate and tried not to scream. "Everyone's dying to see you."
I don't want to see everyone.
I want to find a job, find an apartment, and get the hell off Ashford land before whatever is coiling tighter and tighter in my chest finally snaps.
But Gracie looked at me with those hopeful eyes—her brother's eyes, pale blue and impossible to refuse—and I heard myself say yes.
I always say yes to Gracie.
That's how I ended up here in the first place.
The town square is packed by the time we arrive.
