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How did I come up with the money to save the store?
I didn’t think this part through. Yesterday, she asked about Ezra.
Which led me to asking about the older brother of one of her summer school students. Because this town is nothing if not full of secrets everyone is willing to share.
Only, I’ve never much cared for the drama of it.
Not until I had my older sister breathing down my neck about a man I can’t get off my mind. And when I showed up athis house, insisting I can’t sleep with him anymore, hehuggedme. Who is he?
And what has he done with the person I perceived him to be?
Sophie’s words echo in my mind, angering me as I stack books, piling them with more force than necessary.
I know what guys like him want with someone like you.
An odd protectiveness wrapped around our situation, and I wanted to assure her that she had no idea what she was talking about. That just because I hadn’t been afforded the opportunity to escape Cherry Cove like she had, didn’t mean I was some naïve little virgin. Instead, I brought up the whispers about her, causing her to blanche and walk out of the house without another word.
I notice the odd hours she isn’t around, or when I catch her gazing out of the shop window, as if she’s looking for someone she knows isn’t going to show up. I know it because I recognize the longing in myself.
I’m not here to judge my sister, in spite of her desire to remind me how all of my hard work amounted to nothing. But the resentment of having to deal with my grief and this shop while they left me is something I’m having a hard time forgiving.
I’ve been lonely. So fucking lonely in those first few months, I used to lock up the store and cry, knowing no one was coming to help me. Knowing I’d be going home to a house full of ghosts.
Feeling like no one loved me enough to stay.
So when the shop door opens and I see my older sister, I ignore her presence, unable to continue our fight.
She’s wordless for a moment as she rounds the desk to check the register.
We haven’t made a sale yet today, something I want to tell her but decide against.
The silence ticks on as I continue stacking. Finally, when I’m finished, I grab the empty box and head to the back office. I feel her eyes on me, and I continue to ignore her.
I’ve broken down the cardboard box to discard later and toss it to the side when I notice her standing in the doorway.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she says, her words slow and low as she kicks her foot out, staring at it before she meets my eyes that are so much like her own. “I just feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
I want to scoff, throw my hands in the air, give her all of my pent-up emotions. Instead, I opt for the most peaceful approach I can think of.
“You don’t, Soph. You truly don’t.”
And as much as it saddens me, I don’t know her anymore either.
I want to see you today
I reread the text sent to me half an hour ago. In the minutes that have passed since then, I’ve debated on whether I shouldrespond or not. And once I came to the conclusion that I would, I tried to figure out what I wanted to say.
Liar.
What Iwantto say is that I want to see him too. But I won’t let myself go there. Instead, I opt for a safer choice.
What did you have in mind?
His response causes a swift grin to take over my face. One that I don’t have to hide, since I’m fresh from a shower, sitting on my bed in a towel.
This is the first time you’ve ever responded. I was beginning to wonder if I had the wrong number.
I’m not well-versed in the art of flirting. It makes me second-guess myself, wishing I didn’t care about his opinion of me. Wishing I didn’t have any opinions of him.
