Page 3 of Before We Break

Instead, I do the opposite.

“You seem like a decent person. As long as you don’t throw crazy parties or burn the place down, it’s yours. We can head down to the bank and sign the rental agreement today.”

She holds her hand out. Her long fingernails are painted bright orange with little daisies on them. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Noah Weston.”

As my fingers close around her delicate hand, I can’t shake the feeling that I might’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.

ONE

WELCOME TO WILLOW VALLEY

♫ There She Goes by The La's

CLIO

Present Day

Aunt Penny walked past me on the street today, except that would be impossible because Penny died two years ago. For a moment, it was her—with that bright smile and those deep laugh lines around her eyes that told of the wisdom and joy she brought to everyone who knew her. She still had her white hair pulled back in a clip, the way it was before she lost it all to the cancer that stole her from us far too soon.

When I looked over my shoulder, she was gone, replaced by a stranger. I smiled kindly and continued on to the coffee shop where my friend Quinn works, scanning the sidewalk for pennies along the way, but I never find them when I need them most.

I pull open the door to Branch Out. The scent of dark roast combined with something earthy flooded my senses.

“Hey, Clio,” Quinn says, pulling her chestnut curls into a bun on the top of her head. “Usual order?”

“Yeah. Can I get that with a banana muffin?”

“Of course.” She reaches into the pastry case with a piece of parchment and drops the muffin into a small paper bag, rolling the top closed.

“What time is your break?” I ask, taking it from her outstretched hand.

She glances at the clock on the wall. “Five minutes.”

“I was going to walk to the park, hang out while Lexi coaches soccer, if you want to keep me company.”

“I don’t know…” Quinn chews on her bottom lip, pulling a paper cup from the top of the stack.

“Bring your headphones. If it gets to be too much, you don’t have to stay.”

Quinn was the very first person to welcome me when I moved to Willow Valley, and we became fast friends. Well, sort of. I kind of forced my friendship on her. She’s sweet as pie, if a little hesitant to open up. I recognize myself in her—or at least the girl I was when I first moved to North Carolina to live with Aunt Penny.

She presses a few buttons on the fancy espresso machine, then hands me the large oat milk latte. After grabbing her tote bag from under the counter, she unties her apron and turns to her coworker. “I’m taking my lunch break. Be back in an hour.”

A blast of summer heat robs me of oxygen as we step out onto the sidewalk, and I’m instantly sticky from head to toe. I can’t wait for fall when I don’t sweat through my clothes, arriving at my destination damp and red as a ripened tomato.

As I bring my coffee to my lips, Quinn’s phone lights up with a notification from a dating app.

“How’s that going?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and grumbles under her breath. “You know that saying? There’s plenty of fish in the sea? Well, the sea is putrid, and the fish are rotting.”

I can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of me. “You’ll find someone. Just be patient.”

“Duh. Who wouldn’t want to date a fat, autistic barista with a musical theatre obsession?” She wrinkles her nose. “Sorry. There goes my filter again.”

I nudge her with my elbow, sending her stumbling sideways. “Shut up, Quinny. You’re a catch.”

She rolls her eyes. “What about you? Got any hot dates on the horizon?”