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Before leaning down to pick them up, I tilt my head back, staring at the dark sky decorated with the scattered pinpricks of stars. Suck in a few deep lungfuls of summer air to try to alleviate the suffocating sensation I’m experiencing. Any peace playing and hitting empty cans offered has dissipated like smoke in the wind.
Eventually I stop staring. Stop searching. I’m not sure what I’m looking for.
Driving through downtown Pembrooke feels strange. It’s deserted, the storefronts dark and the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. The commercial section of town gradually gives way to residential neighborhoods.
The complex where Catherine’s condo is located has about fifteen units. All the windows in the bottom unit are dark and empty when I park in the assigned spot and climb out of my truck. My shoulders burn as I stretch, my muscles sore from weeks of strenuous exertion.
I grab my duffel out of the back and then head toward the front entrance of the building. It takes a few minutes to get inside and flick on the lights. Everything is neat and orderly, like a show home.
Catherine, like everyone else, had no idea I was coming home today. And based on the sterile feel of the place, she hasn’t been here in several days.
I stuff the contents of my duffel into the washing machine, start a load, and then take a quick shower.
My phone screen is covered with messages when I get back to my room. I flop down onto the bed in boxers with wet hair, exhaustion spreading through my body as I sink into the mattress.
I skim the first couple of texts—one from Grace, asking if I’m okay and another from Mark, wondering if I can fit a cooler in my truck—then switch to staring at the list of favorites.
She’s at the very top.
The first fucking name.
I’ve called her hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.
To ask meaningless questions.
What time she was done with class. What food she wanted me to order. Saying good night.
Times I easily could have texted, I called her so I could hear her voice. So I could experience the effect she has on me.
And right now, when I reallyneedto talk to her, I’m terrified to.
It wasn’t just the laughing or the guy that threw me off tonight.
She walked away.
She’s always walked toward me, and this time Cassia headed in the opposite direction.
It burns in a way nothing ever has before.
Through all our ups and downs, she’s stuck around. I’m the one who avoids.
I toss my phone onto the comforter and roll over, hoping I’ll fall asleep quickly.
But knowing I probably won’t.
CHAPTER THREE
CASSIA
Milo wiggles around on his back, pink tongue lolling as he shamelessly begs me for more attention. I squat down to give his belly yet another rub, smiling when his tail begins sweeping across the concrete.
I’m a sucker for his big brown eyes. And when you’re in a perpetually terrible mood—the way I’ve felt all summer—being around animals who don’t know what a bad feeling is can be a bit of a balm.
Maybe today will be the day that optimism wears off on me.
I feed Milo a treat from one of the jars scattered around the room, then straighten and stretch. Yawn, before heading over to the folding table covered with containers of different kibble and supplements.
I was home by midnight, but I didn’t manage seven hours of sleep. I tossed and turned until my legs were tangled up in the sheets, staring at the phone screen that never lit up.
