“Fine,” she replies and points up ahead. “Pull over there—there’s a new thrift store called Cause for Paws. All the proceeds go to the animal shelter.”
The thrift store is in an old hardware store downtown, with a narrow sidewalk out front. Asphalt grits under the tires of my convertible as I turn the wheel, pulling into the last spot.
“Why the hell is it so busy?” I mumble, but Fia flashes me a smile and leaves the car.
This is what I asked for, but of course any flicker of satisfaction is fleeting—because when I look up, reality smacks me in the face in the form of one tall, tattooed guy donning a Santa hat.
Jesse’s standing next to a table with the Humane Society’s banner taped crookedly across the front. Stacks of brochures and colorful papers line the table, held down with stones to keep them from blowing away in the salt air. And he is ringing a bell.
I have to be dreaming.
“Jesse? What the heck are you doing here!” Fia laughs, almost giddy, stepping up to the table he’s standing beside.
I remain a few feet back.
For his own protection, of course.
He doesn’t seem phased by me, which irks me. I want him to feel uncomfortable.
“I’m volunteering for the shelter today,” he informs Fia casually. “Trying to raise awareness of the new program I’m running—the rehab and rehome one I mentioned to you.”
Fia carefully takes a pamphlet off the table. “I’ll put this up at Good Grinds.” She slides it into her pocket.
I roll my eyes.
When I glance back, he’s staring right at me. Green eyes piercing mine, his jean jacket over his signature black hoodie.
“What’re you two up to today?” He’s looking directly at me.
It takes me too long to find my voice, and when I do, it comes out squeaky. “We’re shopping.”
Fia glares at me.
“Come on, Fi, I’m cold.” I pretend to shiver, rubbing my arms.
I’m actually burning up, I simply don’t feel like standing on the sidewalk as my ex rings a bell, looking like rockstar Santa while people walk by, slipping money into his pail.
This is the opposite of a sweet Hallmark movie. It’s hell.
“We’re getting ugly sweaters for our annual Christmas photo,” Fia tells him as she takes slow steps toward the shop’s door. “Actually, Jesse, you need one, too!”
That’s it.
I reach out and grab my sister’s arm, yanking her toward the store. “Nope, Jesse does not need to participate. This is just between us!” I smile tightly at him as he watches, confusion in his eyes but amusement on his lips.
Inside, the store is warm and has that distinct thrift store smell—like everyone’s different laundry detergents, or lack of, mixed together. There are too many people in here doing god knows what, and I’m ready to leave the moment we step inside.
But there’s tradition to uphold.
Fia rips her arm from my grasp, pacing behind me down the tight aisle of sweaters. “What the hell, Penny? That was so rude!” she whisper-yells as other people stare at us.
I grab a red sweater, barely looking at it but needing to keep my body moving, and face my sister.“Listen, I know you’re just trying to be nice to him, but I want you to be careful, okay?” I sigh, shoving the sweater back onto the rack. It’s not ugly enough. “Jesse breaks promises, and you trust too easily.”
That’s an understatement, but I’m not trying to make her feel like shit about herself. I simply want her to be cautious. If he broke Fia’s heart, I’d have no choice but to hunt him down and seek big sister revenge.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fia blocks the aisle, arms crossed over her chest. “Jesse is a good guy.”
“You don’t know him that well, Fia. Just don’t get too attached, okay?”
