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Mom snorts and takes another sip of tea as the sun slips behind the mountain, the sky turning lilac and a deep shade of blush. "You don't want me to tell you about all my super-hot, sordid affairs?"
"For the love of God, no," I cover my face with my hands.
"I could give you some tips," she teases before we both laugh.
My chest hurts as the laughter ripples through my body, but it feels nice to smile. To feel something other than guilt and regret crushing my bones.
I take a sip of tea, let it slide down my throat and warm all the cold, dead places inside of me.
"Why does everything have to be so hard?" I muse.
"Because firsts are always messy," Mom answers. "You have no idea what you're doing the first time around. First love. First time. First heartbreak. First heart you break. You have to learn how to love people. It doesn’t come naturally to everyone. But that's not the most difficult part. You also have to learn how to lose people, too."
I've lost Matt.
"Any advice?" I ask as I take another sip of tea, the steam rising off the mug and tickling my nose.
Mom reaches a hand out and wraps it around mine. "Give yourself some grace, Jenny. Things tend to work themselves out in the end."
Grace.
Huh.
Seems easy enough.
But I'm not sure how to forgive myself for all the damage I've done. Everything is ruined, laying in shambles at my feet. I don’t know which part to pick up first. Which part to start trying to piece back together.
Maybe I don’t want to.
Maybe letting everything be is the coward's way out.
Maybe I am a coward.
No, I know for sure I am one now.
I'm Jenny Kearns, the coward who's destroyed everything.
Chapter 37
I strum my fingers on the glass jewelry case, bored out of my mind. A mid-July heat wave has trapped the mountain in a blistering, angry furnace and no one has ventured out of their houses for days. Tourists have been flocking to the lake, not even bothering to shop from the lack of air-conditioning. Mom might as well close up. We haven't had a single customer all week.
Sticky sweat drips down my back. The overhead fan circulates just enough air so tendrils of blond hair hanging loose from my bun stick to my forehead.
The door chimes and I straighten up, smooth my black dress down before turning to face whoever's walked in.
My lips twitch as he runs a hand through his dark, luscious locks, his chocolatey-brown eyes twinkling beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting.
Kyle.
"Excuse me, Miss," he sidles up to the counter, rests his elbow and forearm on the glass. "I'm searching for something for my girlfriend. Can you help me?"
I reach out and graze his fingers tenderly. "What kind of budget did you have in mind?"
He sticks his hand into his front pocket, pulls out a few rolled dollar bills. He lays them out and then digs back into his pocket, slaps a nickel down in front of me.
"$26.05."
"Well, Mr. um?" I raise an eyebrow while I wait for him to respond.
