The only thing I could think about when I hit those boards was that I never told her.
What if I’d woken up and couldn’t remember her? What if I’d never woken up at all? The rink project doesn’t matter if I’m dead. But Izzy? Izzy matters.
She always did.
After tomorrow’s practice, I’m going back to Merritt Point to see her. Even if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Even if she tells me it’s too late. Even if I’m terrified.
I’ll show up, because that’s what love is, right? Showing up. Being seen. Saying the hard things. Love is the moment you finally stop running.
Tomorrow, I’m going home to Merritt Point for Izzy.
Chapter 27
Izzy
It’s almost Christmas. I swear my diet consists only of sugar cookies and hot chocolate. Not sure how the sugar rush helps, but at least I’m sleeping again.
My heart? That’s still very, very bruised.
I grimace at the starting chords of Joni Mitchell’s “River.”
“Zoe!”
She adjusts her Santa hat at the wrapping station, then hops up. “On it.” She’s probably sick of wrapping presents, but she’s doing an amazing job. I only wish I had more help. That nagging guilt drops in my stomach. I push it aside, diving back into smiling and making small talk with the woman on the other side of the sales counter.
“Thanks so much for coming in today with the snow. Have a great holiday.” I hand her a tote bag of books and peek out at the giant white flakes sticking to Main Street.
After the new year, I’m hiring more employees to help run the store. As much as I wanted the expansion, it didn’t make sense to turn Salty Romantic into something I hate because I couldn’t tell myself “No.”
My mom calls, because of course she does, but I don’t pickup. I told her that when I’m working, I’m not available. Look at that… I figured out what a boundary is.
Zoe sneaks behind me at the register and drops a cookie next to me. “Ooh, therapy is working!”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve had two sessions.”
“Still counts.”
It’s hard to finally choose myself for once, and the guilt is overwhelming, but I’m doing it anyway. I can’t keep being everyone’s everything, and I have to save some of myself for me.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me heading out early?” Zoe asks.
“Yep.” I stuff the cookie into my mouth. I need food, real food, not just sugar and caffeine. Did I pack a lunch today? No. But what’s the saying? Healing isn’t linear. I might not be getting a gold star today, but I’m trying. It’s going to take time to learn to love myself.
She throws on her coat with a happy squeal, pulls me into a tight hug, before she wishes me a Merry Christmas and dashes out the door.
The snow falls more heavily as the morning continues, and by lunch, the little traffic on Main Street nearly stops.
The shop feels different in the quiet—just the hum of the heater and the soft glow of twinkle lights strung along the shelves, and in the front window.
I move through the routine on autopilot: straightening displays, flicking off the overhead lights, adjusting the small tree in the corner. Outside, snow falls in thick, lazy flakes. The construction noise from next door stopped hours ago. Everyone’s gone home.
I’m not going to my mom’s tonight.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, accompanied by its usual companion: guilt. I sent the text this morning:Not feeling well. Going to stay home and rest. Have a wonderful Christmas.
I’m sure that’s why she’s calling. I offered Riley the chance to stay with me for Christmas break, but she passed. I sent Peyton a present for Luca in the mail. I really wish I could see that little nugget, but I think space is best for everyone right now, and I need one night where I’m not the glue holding everything together.
The bell above the door jingles, and I look up to find Sloane bundling through, cheeks pink from the cold, shopping bags dangling from both arms.
