Page 79 of Westward

Even though I was never going to be a mom of my own.

Even my sister had needed to escape. While I had been able to take the brutality of our father by closing myself in, Briar had always been a little softer. So she’d run off just like Malcolm had, and somebody had needed to stay behind.

And that’s what I did best.

I stayed behind.

I looked over at the door as Thatcher walked through it, phone at hand, and I tensed, hoping there wasn’t an emergency. As the fire captain, he was rarely around these days, constantly dealing with crisis after calamity. We had the best fire station in many of the small towns around us, and his skills were in high demand.

Another reason why they had hired Tess.

And another reason why I had almost given up everything to help raise children that would never be mine.

But nobody had asked me. Nobody had thought of me.

I drained the last of my beer, annoyed at the self-pity. That was unlike me. I must be starting my cycle soon or something, because I usually didn’t get so gloomy these days.

It could be the fact that everybody was finding their other halves, and here I was, stuck in my same small town, in the same dead-end job that didn’t appreciate me, wondering why I was even here.

“What’s wrong?”

I looked up at Keely, a relatively new Ashford Creek resident and Felicity’s best friend, and smiled softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I think I’m just tired. I might head out.”

“Are you sure? I can go with you if you want.”

That was Keely. Soft and nice. And everything that I didn’t feel like being in that moment.

“I’m okay. But thank you. I think I just didn’t sleep well.”

Keely studied my face, as if she didn’t believe me. And frankly, I wasn’t sure how I did either, but it wasn’t like I was going to say anything. Instead, I reached out and squeezed her hand, then pushed my way through the throngs of others.

With a sigh, I nodded my goodbyes to a few people, but didn’t bother saying anything to the others. If they noticed me leaving, they didn’t mention it, but that was fine with me. I needed a moment to get through my gloom and just focus on breathing and figuring out what I wanted to do next.

Maybe I could leave. Find a job in the city, work for someone else, maybe find a man with light eyes who would smile at me, and tell me he loved me.

I shook myself out of my reverie, annoyed with myself. I didn’t want a man with those eyes. It wouldn’t be worth it. I had driven to town because I’d wanted to have a couple of drinks, and though I’d only had one beer, I still felt like I needed… And I didn’t have a car, I had to walk home. It was still fully light out, as the sun wouldn’t set until later, so I pulled out my phone and checked social media.

I scrolled through countless photos of people finding their perfect milestones.

New babies. New fiancées. A vacation. A promotion. A cup of coffee. A beautiful sunset.

Snapshots of perfect lives. I knew they were probably jagged around the edges because that was reality. There was no such thing as perfect.

I just needed to find patience after all.

I didn’t need perfection.

Without thinking, I almost hit the search function, and nearly—oh so nearly—typed in a profile that I refused to look at.

Hands shaking, I had to wonder exactly why I wanted to do that. I hadn’t even thought about him in years.

That was a lie. I thought about him this morning. And ten minutes ago. And thirty seconds ago.

I shook off my reverie and closed out my social media tabs before deciding to read the news. That would be better.

I scrolled through local news, and then national news, before going to BBC and checking out international news.