19
Everly
I took a deep breath of the pine-scented air as I stepped out into the sunshine, the door to the vet’s office closing with a snick behind me. I closed my eyes and tipped my face up to the light. Maybe the rays would infuse some energy into my body.
I was wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. Yesterday had drained every drop. Because after my emotional unburdening with Hayes, we’d had to go back to work. He’d offered to make up an excuse for me, say that I wasn’t feeling well, and it would’ve been true enough. But I wasn’t going to let his family clean up my mess alone.
So, back out I’d gone. I’d received some concerned looks, and Hayes some stern ones, but I’d simply ducked my head and started hauling debris. The physical labor had helped, but my body was paying for it today. I would try to cram myself into the minuscule bathtub the cabin had. Or maybe I’d drive out to the hot springs. Either way, I needed a soak.
I started down the path towards the sidewalk and came up short. Addie was walking next to Ben. My heart clenched. Something about seeing the two of them together got to me—the friends I’d spent so much of my childhood with. And their lives had simply gone on. They’d stayed friends, and had left me behind. Or had I gone on ahead? I wasn’t sure anymore.
Ben smiled. “Hey, Evie.”
“Hi.” My voice came out on a croak. “How are you guys?”
Addie looked around before answering. “Good.”
“I heard about what happened up at your place. Are you okay?” Ben asked.
“Fine. Just dealing with the cleanup.”
“I can come up and help this evening if you need it.”
God, he still had that kindness I’d always basked in growing up. “Thanks, but I had some people helping out yesterday, and it’s mostly done.”
His gaze hardened a fraction. “Who? You need to be careful who you tell that you’re living up there alone.”
My lips twitched. Ben had always been overprotective. “It was the sheriff and his family, so I think I’m safe.”
Ben didn’t look quite as convinced. “Okay. Just be cautious—you know you can come stay with my folks and me at the ranch if you need.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
He turned to Addie and squeezed her elbow. “Why don’t you catch up with Evie? I’ll take the jams to the bakery and go to the store.”
“What about—?”
Ben cut her off. “Allen’s moving the cattle today. He and the guys won’t venture into town.”
I sent Ben a grateful look before turning back to Addie. “Let me treat you to lunch. Have you ever been to Spoons?”
She shook her head. “That would be nice.”
“I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” Ben asked.
I adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “An hour would be perfect. Do you want me to bring you a sandwich or anything?”
His mouth quirked. “Still trying to feed me?”
“Some things will never change.”
“It’s nice to have things you can count on. But I already ate.”
Ben’s words twisted something in my stomach. How many times had I snuck him a cookie or an extra sandwich because he had the appetite of someone five times his size? And now he was this weird mix of stranger and brother of my heart. “All right. I’ll bring you a cookie, then.”
“That, I’ll never say no to.” With a wave, he was off.
Addie and I were silent for a moment, not moving at all. She spoke first. “He always was half in love with you.”
I snorted. “More like he was half in love with all of the treats I snuck him.”
“He missed you. So did I.”
“I tried to write, Addie.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I couldn’t risk writing back. Dad was so mad at you.”
I knew that, too. And now there was this chasm between us that I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to close. But I had to try. “Let’s get some lunch.”
I started down the street, and it only took a moment for Addie to follow. She fell into step beside me, and it was like an awkward version of the old times. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like if I’d stayed. A mix of images flitted through my mind. I wouldn’t have lost Addie or Ben. We would’ve been just as close. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would’ve slowly ceased to exist.
I stole a quick glance at the person I’d loved most in the world. The same had happened to Addie. The eyes that had once held a bright twinkle were dull, searching the street for signs of an attack. I swallowed against the burn in my throat.
I’d chosen myself over everyone else when I left. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about Addie—I thought of her all the time. But I’d picked myself over staying to help her. It wasn’t right or wrong, it was simply survival. It ate away at me, nonetheless.
Choices. An infinite number of them. Big and small. And together, they made up a life. One that made Addie and I strangers now.
I pulled open the door to the small café, motioning Addie inside. Jill looked up from behind the counter. “I think we’ve got a new regular. I love it.”
“I’m having a hard time staying away.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. That was our plan all along.”
I chuckled. “Jill, this is my cousin, Addie.”
“Nice to meet you, Addie.”
“You, too,” Addie answered softly.
Jill picked up two menus. “What do you think, outside in the sun or inside in the air conditioning?”
I looked at Addie in question.
“Let’s do inside.”
I should’ve guessed. Inside meant less chance someone might see her with me and accidentally drop that into casual conversation with Allen. Not that Allen had a whole lot of casual-conversation kind of friendships. But better to be cautious.
Jill led us to a table against the wall. “How’s this?”
“Perfect,” I said, sliding into one of the chairs. “Thanks.”
“Just wave me over when you’re ready to order.”
She disappeared back behind the counter, and Addie and I were alone again. Addie studied the menu meticulously. “What do you like here?”
“The egg salad is my favorite, but the soups are good too if you want something lighter.”
“Egg salad sounds good.” She kept her eyes glued to the laminated paper as if it held all the answers in the world.
“How are you, Addie?”
It was both the simplest question and the most complicated. But it was everything I wanted to know.
She carefully set the menu down on the table and looked up. “I’m fine.”
Nothing about her was fine. She was too skinny. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. And her fingernails had been bitten down to the quick.
“Please, don’t lie.”
A flash of heat filled her dull eyes. “And what makes you deserve the truth? My truth. You left.”
God, it was good to see a bit of life in those eyes, even if it was from anger directed at me. But the words burned, as intended. “I had to go. You know, I did. But I’m so sorry that it meant I had to leave you, too.”