A second chance at a freedom I never deserved, but I clung to desperately.
This time, there’s nobody around to save me from myself.
I have to know when to quit, when to put the bottle down and flush out my system.
Especially when it feels like Gramps was sweeping his guilt under the goddamned rug.
Once again, he failed, and it curdles my stomach.
I stagger up, walking to the sliding door and into a summer evening free from woes.
Out here, the fireflies play and the crickets chirp like a band.
The stars shine full force, so bright I feel like a shadow.
I haven’t felt this dazed and hopeless since Taylor’s death.
Unlike then, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to outrun this.
I’ve spent my whole life trapped as somebody else.
If I want to break the cycle, I need to meet the real Ethan Blackthorn, but I don’t know how.
23
ALL IN THE WRECKAGE (HATTIE)
Stupid me.
Stupid Ethan.
Stupidlife.
My eyelids start drooping until I smack my cheek.
It’s an effort to stay awake as I stare at theClosedsign on the front door. Behind me, Sarah, one of our part-timers who stayed on, is busy sorting books.
I have my version of a business plan in front of me. Lots and lots of scribbles in a dark green notebook. A disjointed mind-map of ideas and authors and plans for redecorating when we have the funds to spare.
I’ve run the bookstore through every AI renovation design app in existence.
Not the most technical approach, but it’s the kind of mindless semi-productive entertainment that helps keep my brain in a happy place.
It helps me avoid remembering why I have this freaking store in the first place.
I never wanted it like this.
I never asked for it, but Ethan just had to let his ego off the leash.
He had to step in like the impatient, heavy-handed prince he is and buy it for me on a whim, and now I’m saddled with a place that reminds me of him everywhere I turn.
At least my employees are happy, and so hardworking it screws my head back on. There’s a second wind around here since musty Mr. Sneed left.
If I won’t take this seriously for me, then I have to do it for them.
That’s the only reason I’m here, pretending to be a manager instead of a useless lump curled up on my sofa with a book and a pint of Jeni’s.
I’m their livelihood.
