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To me, moving home means I’ve failed. It means facing all the people I left behind and have basically avoided for the past decade. It means going back to where everyone knows everyone else’s business. But I honestly don’t have anywhere to stay in Chicago that isn’t an Airbnb, and I don’t have the kind of money to sustain that.
I must take too long to answer because Dad fills the silence. “Did you manage to get another job out there in the city?”
“No, I haven’t found anything yet.” I’ve applied for a bunch of positions, but none of them are what I really want to be doing—and to be honest, I don’t even know what that is. I have always been singularly focused on getting a job so I can continue to live the city life. Only I never stopped to ask myself what it was I wanted to do as a profession. And now that I’m in a position to find a new job doing something I love, I’m a bit lost.
“What is it exactly you’d want me to be doing for you, if I agreed to stick around for a while?”
“Same kind of thing you did last time. Help manage the books, field calls from customers, set up deliveries, make connections with the other companies in town. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I could really use your help, Darlin’. Just for a few months, until Billy is back on his feet.” My family and friends have this habit of saying my name in a way that sounds like Darlin’ instead of Dillion.
I look around my half-packed bedroom and consider what’s left of my life here. I have no job and no boyfriend. All the people I’ve worked with have either had to take jobs elsewhere or were part of a couple, putting me on the outs. Sure, I’ll get the occasional text message or invitation to go out for drinks, but they are proximity friends, not the kind I would reach out to after Jason and I broke up.
I have a couple of girlfriends from college I still talk to, but I spent most of my time studying and working, trying to get ahead. I’ve realized that as much as I love the city, I built a life in a bubble that consisted mostly of my boyfriend and my job, and with both of those gone, there’s not much left for me to hold on to.
Besides, my dad asking for help is a big deal. We’ve always gotten along well, and I know how much work the project-management side of things can be, especially since it’s such a small business. I don’t want my dad to end up in the same position he did two years ago—not when I can actually do something to help. Even if it means leaving the city behind.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll come home.”
CHAPTER 2
SMALL-TOWN WOES
Dillion
Two days later I’m behind the wheel of a rented U-Haul, driving the contents of my apartment back to the town I grew up in and swore I’d never live in again. I remind myself that this is temporary—that I’m only going to be here as long as my family needs my help, and then I’ll move back to the city. I’ll have time to job hunt without the pressure of taking just any job. At least that is what I’m telling myself.
I pass the old, worn sign that marks the beginning of Pearl Lake. YOUR DREAMS ARE A BOAT RIDE AWAY is written underneath in fancy cursive with a small, wilted-looking garden surrounding the base of the sign. The summer’s barely begun, and we’re already having one of those nasty heat waves. The grass has taken on the hue that’s typically referred to as “August gold,” everything dry and brown and brittle. We obviously need a good dose of rain soon, or there won’t be any bonfires happening on the beach. The trees lining the sides of the paved road are lush and green and full. Sporadic driveways create breaks in the tree line, with sleepy little cottage-style homes tucked inside them. It’s the opposite of Chicago, and every time I visit, I can’t wait to get back to the hustle and bustle of the city.
I turn onto the main road leading into town, shifting gears as I climb the steep hill, gravel spitting under my tires. When I reach the top, I downshift and take a moment to appreciate the view of the lake. It’s completely unobstructed at the highest point. The beautiful, clear, deep-blue water is surrounded by the same lush trees and evergreens. To the right are massive estate-style lake homes rising up above the landscape. Their presence is a reminder of all the things I aspired to as a teenager. I wanted to be on the other side, to have all the things they did.
