Page 34 of While You Were Trending

In college, I took a pottery class, and I fell in love. Sitting at the wheel, nothing but me and the wet clay, my mind shifting into just the right space to be able to meditate and clear away intrusive thoughts.

It was almost as effective as therapy—something I still need a lot of after my adolescent years—and I left college with two favorite mugs that I’d made.

I left my relationship with Alex with neither of them.

When I got here to Makepeace, I turned to it again. There was a woman Mabel knew just outside of town who’d done pottery her whole life, and she let me use her space to find some semblance of peace.

That’s where I made the mug that I still use every day.

Except for the past two days, when Declan has managed to use it instead.

“Mabel overlooked adding any no-contact-to-the-rest-of-the-world clauses to our contract,” he says.

She didn’t overlook it. Cutting off anyone’s access to the outside world isn’t something we’d do here. No matter how much we might want to and how much I might hint at it to Declan.

“In case no one told you, Cricket’s testing the tractor to make sure it starts before harvest. You should probably go get your close-up videos,” I say.

“So you’ve been here since…the last time I saw you?”

“The tractor hasn’t actually been started since Pip’s husband died, so it’s likely to be a production. It would be a shame if you and Shade missed it.”

“I wondered where you’d gone.”

“And after my mother tried to set it on fire Saturday night, we’re giving it a fifty-fifty shot that it works.”

“Heard you quit your job and disappeared.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Where’s this going?”

“I’m glad you had somewhere safe to go. Everyone seems…protective.”

I was already dreading Declan being here, but this?

This is making it worse.

He’s being kind. Attentive. Like we used to be friends, when he spent nearly four years making it clear that we were anything but.

“Catching on to that, are you?” Olivia says as she joins us in the kitchen, dressed for the day in jeans and a pretty blouse.

She and her wife, Samantha, managed all of the catering Saturday. If I were them, I wouldn’t be moving at all this week.

I can still barely move myself. And that probably would’ve been the case even without the massive amounts of alcohol I consumed after my mother left.

And wanted to consume all day just from being in her presence.

Even before she tried to set the barn on fire.

And before Declan got to be a hero, which I’m begrudgingly grateful for.

“I won’t tell your secrets,” Declan says to her. “I get the privacy thing now.”

“Hmm. How’s the coffee?”

He gives her a reserved smile. “Weak.”

“Then I did it right.”

I stifle a sigh as I reach the coffee maker on the counter near the sink and dishwasher.