But her days were free now. She didn’t have to be at work until four o’clock. Chumby’s opened at five. So she had her mornings and early afternoons free, and oddly, that was the biggest struggle she had now—what to do with those open hours.
She saw her parents now, more than she used to, but it felt weird to her. They were fine. Their normal selves. They talked about the usual things. But they didn’t seem to see her sadness, which made her wonder if she was hiding it better than she thought. But then she’d catch a worried glance from Brody. Her sister saw it. Her sister was worried about her. She knew that.
So was Scottie. She called Adley every day. Every single day, and Adley had started doing something she’d never, ever done with Scottie in their whole lives. She’d started not answering her calls. Not all of them. She didn’t ignore every call—that was a surefire way to get Scottie to hunt her down wherever she was just to make sure she was still breathing. But every third or fourth call she’d let go to voice mail. She just got so tired of reassuring everybody that she was fine.
And shewasfine. For a person with no path in life, she really was. She had a job. She had a house. She wasn’t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but she was able to pay her bills on time. That was new. She kinda liked it.
Fine and floundering, that’s what she was. Or floundering, but fine. Either description was accurate. And she wouldn’t flounder forever. She knew that, even if the people who loved her weren’t so sure. But she was allowing herself time. To mourn. To grieve. She’d lost something very important to her, both tangibly and emotionally. She’d lost her identity. It sounded dramatic, yes, but it was true. She’d been involvedin ice cream for pretty much her entire adult life, and now that part of her was gone, and she felt like she was missing a limb. Some of her friends and family thought she was overreacting—her mother had actually used the wordsilly, which had sent Adley directly out the door, into her car, and home. She’d ignored her mother’s calls and texts for nearly a week. She would recover. She knew she would. But for her own sanity, she had to be able to grieve the loss of her business, so she gave herself permission to be miserable, at least for a while.
The night ended a little early. Cassandra, the manager, would often close things early if there were no new customers. She’d release people one or two at a time until there was a skeleton crew left to finish up with whatever customers were left at their tables. Then she’d lock the front door behind them, and cleanup would begin. Adley was out by nine thirty, a good hour or two earlier than normal, and she was grateful. Her feet hurt from standing for five solid hours, and she was tired. Still, she took the detour route home like she did a good three or four nights a week.
It was hard to see Get the Scoop dark, the windows blacked out from the inside to prevent burglars from peeking in and deciding to steal what was left, which wasn’t much. The day the For Sale sign had gone up, she’d cried all the way home, then cried herself to sleep, then called in sick the next day and didn’t leave her bed for more than twenty-four hours. She turned the corner now that would drive her past the building, and she literally gasped out loud in the car.
SOLD.
The huge red sign plastered over the For Sale sign was a shock. Almost literally. Her entire body jerked as if she’d touched a live electrical wire. She pulled to a stop in front of the place, shifted into park, and just sat. Just stared. Her building was not just up for grabs now. It had been grabbed. Snapped up by some unknown entity. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. It hurt, of course, but it wasn’t her building to begin with. Which had been too bad, really, because maybe if she’d owned it instead of renting, she’d have found a way to keep the business alive.
“Stop it,” she said into the emptiness of the car, her voice firm. She refused to jump onto that train of thought. It took her nowhere good.
She slowly began to nod. The building had been sold. It was donenow. Soon it would be something new. A diner or a shoe store or a card shop. Who knew? But it was done now.
Shifting her car back into drive, Adley inhaled a slow, deep breath and let it out. She didn’t have to drive by here anymore. “Enough,” she said and headed home.
* * *
Hi there. I know I’m probs the last person you want to see, but I’d really like to talk to you about something specific. Would you have time to meet with me?
Sabrina stared at the text. Read it. Reread it. And reread it. And reread it. Driving herself mad looking at the same words, the same letters, over and over and over as if they were going to change.
“Fuck it,” she finally said and hit Send.
The storm door banged, and Teagan came in carrying three boxes in a stack, completely blocking their face. And their ability to see where they were going. “Help,” they said, and Sabrina reached for the top box.
“I already know what a badass you are,” she said with a laugh. “You don’t have to prove it by carrying all the boxes at once.”
“You think I’m going to let you move a thousand miles away and not make sure you’re okay?” Teagan set down the boxes, then straightened up and looked Sabrina in the eye. “You’re sure you know what you’re doing, yeah?”
“I do. I have a plan.”
Teagan nodded, likely because they’d heard that before, but Sabrina hadn’t shared said plan with them. “So you’ve said.” Their tone held clear skepticism laced with worry, and Sabrina loved them for it. She gave their shoulder a squeeze.
“I promise.” Teagan stared at her for a full five or six seconds before giving one nod.
“All right. Just a few more boxes.” They dodged a large guy coming in the front door carrying an ottoman.
“You know I hired movers, right?” Sabrina called after them with a laugh.
Teagan waved over their shoulder as they headed up into the back of the moving truck.
This was over the top. Wasn’t it? She glanced at her phone. Nothing back from Adley. Yet. Would she answer? Or would she ignore the text? It really could go either way, and Sabrina knew that. After a good fifteen minutes of doing things with her phone in her hand, she sighed, realized what she was doing, and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. She needed to push it out of her mind and focus on her current situation.
Problem was, it had been nearly nine months, and she had yet to push Adley Purcell out of her mind.
Nine. Months.
It defied explanation as far as she was concerned. Teagan had wondered if maybe Sabrina was making everything bigger in her memory, the way humans did sometimes, making normal times seem happier, more important, playing things up in her mind. But Sabrina didn’t think that was the case. She’d done everything she could to stop thinking about Adley, including going on a couple dates while home in Atlanta. But nobody interested her the way Adley had. Nobody had turned her on physically the way Adley had. Nobody had touched her heart the way Adley had.
It was very possible that Adley would ignore her text completely. Or worse, tell her to fuck off. But something in the back of her brain told her to hold tight. To be patient. That little voice that all the gurus tell you to always listen to, that gut instinct. So, that was her plan. She would wait and see, and in the meantime, she’d move forward with her plans.
