Wallets, watches, phones—I would steal them all just for the rush of getting chased. It makes me sick to think about it now.
Mood darkening, I keep walking, waving to people I know and even some I don’t. With every passing moment, my mood grows darker.
I really should just go home.
But then the crowd in front of me parts, and I see Anastasia standing behind a table in the booth she set up just outside the church. A large banner with her logo—a cartoon version of her drinking a cup of hot coffee—hangs behind her, and she’s smiling at the woman ordering in front of her.
With her focus on the woman, she doesn’t see me yet, which gives me the rare opportunity to study her. Both eyes are rimmed with red, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s hurting. Did they not fix things? Is that why she booted me out of the shop this morning?
The woman waves at her, so Anastasia turns away and scans the crowd. Drawn together, her gaze finds mine even across the crowd. Unsure what else to do, I raise my hand in a partial wave.
She doesn’t even spare me a smile before returning her attention to the table she’s working. What I wouldn’t give to talk to you. To see you smile. To love you like you deserve.
“Just go already. You’ve wasted enough time, haven’t you, boy?”
I nearly jump at the woman’s voice, which of course gives Linda’s best friend, Marlene, even more of a reason to mess with me. “What?”
“You’re standing here and staring at her like that when you should just go over and talk to her. Unless, oh, wait! I have someone I want you to meet.” She rushes off into the crowd, and I immediately start toward Anastasia. Which, as I think about it, might actually have been Marlene’s goal all along.
Though, I won’t risk being wrong on that one. Marlene’s blind dates are legendary in this town…for being horrible. The absolute last thing I want is her taking any opportunity at all to set me up. I’d rather jump off the pier and swim to California.
Anastasia spares me a glance as I approach her table. “If you want coffee, I’m all out.” Her tone is bitter.
“Just trying to hide from Marlene.”
“Hmm.”
I run a hand over the back of my neck. Talking to Anastasia used to be the easiest thing in the world. And now—I might as well be trying to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. “Look, can we talk?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” she asks, still not bothering to look at me.
“Anastasia.”
“No, Sawyer.” She glares up at me now, hurt swimming in her hazel eyes. “I came to you—remember? Six months ago, I poured my heart out and told you how much I missed my friend. Did you want to talk then? No, you threw it in my face.”
“Anastasia, you were with Jack. I wanted to stay out of your way.” How did I mess this up so bad? Truth is, I gained respect for Jack after he helped rescue Katelyn and me. We’d been abducted and were close to death.
After that, making things hard for him and Anastasia felt wrong. So I’d stepped away. Taken a back seat even though I loved the woman he was with. Wasn’t that honorable?
“No. You nearly died. And then I didn’t even get time to cope with the thought of losing you.” Her eyes fill. “Ugh, I do not want to cry anymore.” She looks up at the sky and closes her eyes for a minute.
“Will you please just give me time to explain?” If I can just get her to see. If I can just get her to understand, then maybe we stand a chance at going back to what we were before. Even if that’s all it will ever be.
“I don’t want to hear your explanation.” She lifts a small tub from under the table and places it on top, then starts cramming small paper cups and lids inside. “I don’t care.”
“Did he leave you?”
She stills, her gaze turning furious as she looks at me. “Did he leave me? Sawyer, he asked me to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, and I?—”
“And you what?” I press when she trails off.
“No. I’m not having this conversation with you.” She stacks her travel coffee dispenser on top of the bucket and turns to head back toward her shop. But I’m nowhere near done, so I follow.
She starts to juggle the stuff in her hands to open the door, but I rush around and pull it open for her. Which earns a nasty glare from her as she pushes past me and into her dark coffee shop. After setting the tubs down on the table in her employee lounge, she whirls on me, fire in her gaze.
“What is it you want from me, Sawyer?”
“I want—” But what do I want? What am I hoping to accomplish by being here tonight? “Did he leave you?” I ask again. I already suspect it, but I need confirmation.
