“I think I’ll manage.” She waved and disappeared into the house with Reno.
Yeah, but how will I?
Chapter Six
AMBER WAS A mess, and she had half a mind to call Sable and give her grief for it.
The ideas Sable had planted in her head had seemed really good in the moment, and Amber had let herself get carried away with Dash. Not that she regretted those toe-curling kisses, but she’d never in her entire life gotten so lost in a man that he’d blurred out the rest of the world. When they were making out, she’d been vaguely aware of flashing lights but had stupidly thought they were the fireworks Brindle and Morgyn swore Trace and Graham caused when they kissed. Amber had lived under the radar for so long, she’d forgotten how awful it felt knowing that people might be whispering about her. She was not cut out for a fiasco-riddled life. She’d spent a fitful night vacillating between preparing for an onslaught of gossip and reliving Dash’s incredible kisses. She’d walked to work to try to rid herself of her nervous energy and had even come up with a number of retorts to shut down the grapevine.
But it hadn’t helped.
She’d been on the same emotional roller coaster all day, anxious one minute and excited about Dash the next, which was a problem in and of itself. She hadn’t heard a peep from him since he left. If the situation were reversed, she would have called, or at least texted, to make sure he was all right, especially since he knew how much she hated being gossiped about. But as morning turned to afternoon and hours passed without a word from him, she became convinced that last night’s debacle had scared him off. She should have known better. It was one thing to go out with a woman who had epilepsy and claimed to have things under control, but being with a woman who sets off alarms that bring paramedics and parents rushing to her side was a whole other ball game.
She was stupid to have thought that after everything he’d told her, he was different. A dull ache took root in her chest, making today that much worse.
Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out and saw Brindle’s name on the text message. Steeling herself for an onslaught of teasing about her seizure alarm going off, she read the message. I heard you had dinner with a certain hot jock in Wishing Creek. I want details. She added an eggplant emoji. Amber stared at the message, wondering why Brindle hadn’t said anything about the aftermath of that wonderful dinner. But she didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it, and she tried to play it off casually, thumbing out, I was there to see Phoenix, and he happened to be there. It was dinner between friends, nothing more. I’m swamped, can’t text. She sent the text and shoved her phone into her pocket.
For the rest of the afternoon, every time customers came into the store, Amber held her breath, waiting for inquisitive or judgmental looks and whispers, but not one person said a word about last night’s events. Not even Nana when she’d stopped by to pick up a book for her husband and had gossiped about neighbors and friends. After that, Amber wondered if she’d woken up in an alternate universe.
As she finished setting up a new children’s display in the back of the store, she thought about the lack of gossip. It should probably make her feel better, but it only confused her. Had she been out of the loop for so long that she’d become blind to the gossip?
A horrible thought struck her.
Brindle and Trace had been on-again, off-again lovers for years, and when Brindle had gone to Paris alone to figure out her life, Nana had started a Facebook poll about their relationship. It had taken over several social media platforms with a Team Trindle hashtag. Had everyone started gossiping online again?
Amber whipped out her phone, quickly navigating to the Oak Falls Facebook page. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she scanned it. There were pictures of Dash at the football clinic with the kids and at the park exercising with a ridiculously large group of women, most of whom were openly gawking at him. Someone had even posted pictures of him from the jam session, his arms around groups of young women and men, that killer smile beaming at the camera. She continued scrolling and saw the announcements she’d posted about his book signing and the contest she was running for decorating next month’s front window display and was relieved that there was nothing about her and Dash.
She debated checking Dash’s Instagram feed and wondered if he had an assistant handling it. Although when she’d researched him, he’d posted nearly every day. She’d seen selfies and pictures with gorgeous women and attractive guys in bars and restaurants that definitely weren’t professionally taken. Her stomach twisted as she realized he hadn’t taken any pictures of them when they were together. What did that mean? She wasn’t important to him? Not worthy of his page? He didn’t want people to know about them?
That made her feel sick to her stomach. She purposefully hadn’t looked at his feed since he’d arrived in Oak Falls. That was part of her ignore Dash plan, which she’d failed at epically. But now she felt an unyielding need to check his page and see what he’d been posting.
Her pulse quickened as she touched the Instagram icon and navigated to his profile. The most recent post was a picture of the WELCOME TO NEW YORK highway sign with the caption Goodbye, small town, hello, Big Apple! Home sweet home. She checked the date, and her chest tightened. It had been posted earlier today.
He’d left town without so much as a goodbye? She really had scared him away.
That dull ache turned to a stabbing pain, her gaze drifting to the beautiful flowers Dash had given her and the acorns in the vase. She couldn’t believe the thoughtful man who’d collected acorns and filled a vase with them would leave town without saying goodbye. She rechecked the date on the post, and sure enough, it had been posted today. She checked his other recent posts and saw one from last night at midnight with the caption Small Town USA and several pictures he must have taken earlier in the day of himself and a group of women at the park, including her mother, and of him and Sin eating lunch. There were pictures of the Majestic Theater and artwork from one of the Wishing Creek alleyways. He’d posted just past midnight the night before last, too—a picture of an acorn lying on the forest floor with the caption Sometimes it’s the start of something new, and sometimes it’s just a nut.
Her mind traipsed back to the night he’d given her the flowers, when they’d shared so much of themselves, and she’d told him she just wanted to be friends, driving that stabbing pain deeper. She continued scrolling through earlier pictures of Dash with kids from the football clinic, and him and Trace, and other friends of hers. She found a picture of him and Sin arm in arm outside Sin’s house dated last Friday night, which he must have taken before the jam session, with the caption Let the good times roll. The picture posted the day before was of Dash with a gorgeous blonde on one arm, a brunette on the other, and a group of people gathered behind them.
She scrolled back up to the picture of the highway sign, hurt and anger whirling and tangling insider her, tightening into a painful knot. To think she’d worn one of her favorite short dresses today in anticipation of seeing him again.
The bell rang above the door, and as Amber came around the display tree in the children’s area, her mother came into view, leading Patsy on a leash. She looked cute in an oatmeal sweater and jeans, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.