Page 21 of Dark

Yeah, that seemed to be our theme song today, and I hadn’t even had caffeine. Slamming the door to her van, she gunned it and peeled off down Main. Pushing up my glasses, I sagged against the door.

Back inside, all the lights were off. The floor was littered with blueberry muffins like we were in the middle of goddamn Candyland. I kicked them out of the way, not even bothering with the trash.

“Hays?” I called, vaulting up the stairs.

But I knew what I was going to find even before I threw open the door. The living area was empty, the bed neatly made. Three cobalt-blue plates had been washed and set in the strainer to dry. The clothes she wore last night were gone. I yanked at the ends of my hair, sagging into the wall.

“Crap.”

* * *

Dark was slammed from the moment I unlocked the doors. Because I had a death wish, I picked the last week in September to run a special on pumpkin spice lattes. I was so pissed at Hayden for taking off without even giving me the chance to explain, every drink I shoved across the counter looked like a high school kid poured it. Scratch that. I could pour better at fourteen. Probably with two broken arms.

By mid-morning, I was going out of my mind. Yanking out my phone, I pulled up our last chat thread from three years ago, the one I’d reread at least a hundred times and had never been able to bring myself to delete.

WillKillforThinMints: Just saying. You strike me as a cat person.

WillKillforThinMints: Black, obviously. To match the emo.

Me: You do know surprise cats can be regifted. And if we fail a health inspection because of Sumatra…

WillKillforThinMints: How cute is it that you’ve already named our love-cat??? Heart emoji.

Me: NO LAUGHING. Hard limit. (And no cat.)

WillKillforThinMints: Eye-roll emoji. Daisy emoji.

WillKillforThinMints: You still need me at 4 tonight?

Me: Sure you want to come in on your bday?

WillKillforThinMints: Like I’d let you and Sumatra scare off the trick-or-treaters

…and nothing more. I’d gotten distracted with the after-lunch rush and had forgotten to check back in until she showed up. My thumbs twitched as the message box popped up.

Me: Where are you?

Three little blinking dots appeared. I was still staring at the screen when an order came across the counter. Iced Coffee. Non-fat milk. Extra syrup. Leave three inches for whip. Extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce.

It was the non-fat milk part that I never got. Either go all in or go home.

Then there was the guy who stopped in two or three times a week on his way into Austin to order a quadruple shot Venti, black, at exactly 134 degrees. Which, whatever. I was the last person with the right to lecture anyone on their quirks. My problem was dude thought the fact that he drove a Porsche gave him free rein to cut to the front of the line, snap at my staff, and half the time shoved the drink I’d just made back across the counter and told me to redo it just to be a dick.

Ben wouldn’t have survived half a shift in customer service. Growing up, we would go through the drive-thru down at the Dairy Queen, and he would lean out to the old dented speaker and order a sack of fries and a sack of burgers, all the way, which he promptly tossed back to Brody or Cal. Anything you didn’t want, you were in charge of picking out of your lettuce or wiping off your bun. I guess with seven kids, his way made more sense than wasting gas while August decided if he was eating pickles that week and West got all squirmy about the mayonnaise.

My phone buzzed with a message from West.

HashtagWhore: Switzerland. Don’t even try to drag me into this. I told BOTH of you FWB would end in disaster. ON YOUR OWN.

Which meant Lacey was already spreading shit all over town. Great. I banged my head against my fist just as another message came in.

HashtagWhore: And Hayden Crowe? Really? Why am I always the last to know?

Me: Yeah. I blogged the whole thing on fucking Instagram. You didn’t see the #aesthetic? #ourfuturewedding

Me: And ffs, give me a chance to explain.

HashtagWhore: Alps, Bro.