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“I’m going for a walk.”

“A walk?” She arches a brow. “Your reading starts in like,” she pauses to look at her watch, “two hours.”

“I know.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Ah, I get it. You’re shitting bricks right now, huh?”

“Kind of, yeah.” A self-deprecating laugh escapes me. “Hence the walk.”

“Right. A walk. You really are a New Yorker, needing to walk everywhere.” She shakes her head, teasing. “But fine. Go for your walk. I’ll keep the troops in line until you get back.”

I bump my shoulder against hers in thanks. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn spectacularly, probably.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Now get out of here before Mrs. Trott sees you leaving and starts thinking you’re about to bail on the whole thing.”

“Okay. I won’t be long,” I promise, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head as a light drizzle falls outside.

I walk out through the B&B gates and consider which way to turn. Town would be the obvious choice, but then I risk running into one of my fans or, worse, some of my classmates.

No. I need somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can center myself.

A smile tugs at my lips as I turn right and head toward Old Man Tucker’s apple orchard. It’s not far. Maybe a thirty-minute walk. More than enough time to temper my nerves.

I slip in my earbuds and put on one of the various meditation tracks my therapist recommended a few years back. It doesn’t take long for the narrator’s soothing voice to work its magic. As the trees around me blaze in beautiful shades of orange and gold, some of the tension finally eases from my shoulders.

When I reach the orchard and see it’s still standing, relief washes over me. Apparently, not everything in Fairhope has been sacrificed at the altar of gentrification.

For once, the universe seems to have my back. Even with the light rain still pattering around me, the clouds part just enough for the sinking sun to peek through. A rainbow stretches across the darkening sky, and for a few seconds, I just stand there and take it all in.

For a moment, the years fall away. Milo and I used to come here whenever we needed to escape the mayhem of our lives. He always kept a blanket in his truck, and we’d spread it beneath one of the trees and lie there for hours, hidden beneath its branches. Aside from our spot at the lake, this place had been our sanctuary. A little pocket of the world where no one could find us, and for a while, none of the shit waiting for us back home could find us either.

As the sun sinks lower behind the trees, I know my time is up.

Thankfully, I feel more at peace than I did when I left, and maybe even cautiously optimistic that my first face-to-face appearance with readers won’t be a total shitshow.

That optimism lasts until I step out of the orchard and see Amber leaning against her car as if waiting for me.

“I thought it was you going into the orchard,” she says, pushing herself away from the car.

“Okay?” The word comes out sounding more like a question.

What the hell does she want?

I’m about to walk right past her and ignore her completely when she says, “Want a ride?”

“No. I’m good,” I retort, shoving my hands into my pockets as I quicken my steps.

“Are you sure? Heard you’re doing some big reading at the B&B tonight. Do you really want to be late?”

“I’ll manage.”

I let out a breath when I hear her get back into her car, apparently taking the hint. But to my annoyance, she doesn’t drive past me. Instead, she pulls out onto the road and crawls along beside me with her window rolled down.

“You’re never going to make it back in time to get ready,” she calls out. “Or are you planning to wear that?”