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Tears stream down her cheeks. “Ayear?”
“Just for the friendship,” I sob. “The hug. The secrets whispered, and the way his skin would touch mine until we could both finally relax. It wasn’t a relationship, Nic. It was just… two mated souls. Taking solace in the dark.”
She sets her soda on the counter and drops her head to the side. Exhaustion. Sadness. “Hannah—”
“There was love. Real, heart-squeezing, best friends forever love. And I told him so, every single night before I went to sleep. But he never said it back.” I reach up and swipe the tears from my cheeks. “He never gave that back to me.”
“Why didn’t you te—”
“Or did you wanna know about the one time we actually made love?” I throw words at her with the same violence I intended for Axel. “While Ainsley Cootes was dying inside the Oriane Hotel, Axel and I finally gave in to each other. Just one time. One perfect evening.
“But the universe said no. The universepunishedus. We were called out that night, because a firefighter was down, and Ainsley’s death was…” I choke on my tears and press my hands to the silver counter. “Her death only reiterated the bullshit Axel had been saying to me all along. How his job was dangerous, and we—you, me, and June—deserved better. We deserved not to sit at home, waiting, worrying, every time he went out on the truck.”
“So he left?” Nicole cries. “He just… left us.”
“He left me too.” My lips quiver with an ache that digs further than my heart. It stretches into my soul and slices. Slices. Slices away at who I am, right down in my core. “He was cruel. And dismissive. He hurt me, Nicole, and then he went away. And I was supposed to just come to work, like none of it ever happened.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I couldn’t!” I slam a hand to my stomach so we both hear the clap. “I couldn’t. For every day he was gone, I was doing my best to just breathe. To function. I was trying to survive. So ya know what?” I push up straight and meet her eyes. “Forgive me for not running to my boss and crying about the big bad meanie who hurt my feelings. I had a business to build, and my sanity, hanging on by a single, terrifying thread. I didn’t have time for the girl chit chat and pity party, whenyoustill had access to him. Even if he only tooksomeof your calls, you still knew he was okay. He didn’t takeanyof mine.”
Angry with her, with him, with me most of all, I turn on my heels, intending to walk to the park and catch my breath. But I startle when Axel himself stands in the doorway, a haunted look in his eyes and defeat in his stance.
“Fuck!” I twist back to Nicole and snarl, because she would have seen him there. She could have told me.
Unfortunately, I have a business relationship to maintain, and calling her horrible names would help no one.
So instead, I tear off my apron, spin back in Axel’s direction, then shake my head when he opens his mouth to speak. “Don’t. Not a single word.”
He reaches out when I pass. “Han—”
I tear my wrist from his hold and keep on walking. “I said don’t. I’m going out for a while, and if you truly gave a shit about me,ever, I’d like for younotto be in my workplace when I return.” I pass the L-shaped counter and move across the tiles. “We’ll work out a schedule so you can be here with your sister. But not today.” I charge through the bakery and swing the front door open, if only to gulp in fresh air that smells neither of sugar, nor of him. “I need today for myself.”
He turns on his heels to follow. “Hannah!”
I move onto the sidewalk outside and start toward the park in the middle of town. But the sun is warm, and moisture in the air makes my skin sticky. So I change course, and head toward the lake.
I have no phone. No keys. No way to communicate except in person. But I keep my head down, clearly not open for conversation, and dig my hands into my pockets, much the same way Axel does when he’s got a million things on his mind.
I walk with a mission, and breathe a little easier when traffic thins and I find the lake is all but empty.
Massive weeping willows take up large chunks of the grassy space and provide the perfect shade—albeit concealing a colony of blood-sucking mosquitoes ready to eat a person alive. But I kick my shoes off as I walk, then peel my socks away next, so I leave a trail.
I’m tempted to take my jeans and shirt off too, but I’m in public, and the cops around here are likely to arrest a girl if one of their fellow first responders—eyeroll—happens to call in a favor.
So I remain dressed and simply walk into the lake.
From grass to dirt, and dirt to water. I continue until submerged up to my chest, then I splash my face to wash off the tears. Like I can somehow fool everyone, myself included, into believing I’ve been cured of my heartbreak.
Like bathing in the dirty lake water is a baptism, cleansing me of the trauma of abandonment. Of the fact my parents still haven’t returned my calls, but postcards continue to appear in my mailbox. Purifies me of reminders of Axel Feeney, whose rejection stings even more than my parents’, if only because his love means more to me than that of a middle-aged couple who regret procreating.
In the quiet but for the scream of cicadas, I lean all the way back and allow myself to stare up at the sky. To float, and silence my thoughts. To dissociate, the way I’ve become so skilled at over the years, and push back those intrusive thoughts.
Fresh tears fall from my eyes and join the lake like they were always supposed to be here. Then I close my eyes and cry. I sob, but clamp my lips shut to keep the sound locked deep inside my chest.
Because that’s what women like me do. The forgotten women. The lost kind, whom no one truly wants to stick around and love.
We lock up that grief and keep it safe. Because expressing emotion is a weakness, and lost children who’ve grown into lost adults have no room for that in their lives.
