Strong. Stronger than she’d ever felt those things before. Why? Losing Ronan had been like slicing open a part of herself that she kept locked away. Because he was the one person who made her feel like life had something more to offer than sacrifice and duty. Like she could be more than a barista and caretaker.
Like her dreams didn’t have to be corralled and kept under lock and key.
Audrey turned a corner, driving aimlessly, her hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, which only stoked the fire inside her. Crying was of no use. But nothing would scrub the memories of Ronan from her mind. Every time her mind went quiet, she thought of him. Of his touch and his kiss and the passion and belief he had for her.
Of the sinking feeling in her stomach when she’d found his handwritten note.
Just as Audrey was about to turn the car around and head back toward home, Big Red made an awful clunking sound. Then it shuddered and lurched.
“Oh, not now,” Audrey groaned. “Come on, girl. You can do it.”
But Big Red couldn’t do it. Audrey managed to get the car mostly to the side of the quiet street, so that it wouldn’t block any oncoming vehicles. But the engine sputtered once more, and then it died. She let out a long sigh and rested her forehead on the steering wheel, counting to twenty before she tried to turn the engine over again.
It whined, wheezing like a lifelong smoker. Then nothing. This time, when she turned the key, there was nothing at all. No spark of life. Nada.
Big Red had finally kicked the bucket.
“Damn it!” Audrey let out a growl and slammed her fist down onto the steering wheel.
Where the hell was she? She’d taken one turn after another after another without really taking note of where she was going. All she knew was that it wasn’t close to home. When she looked up, a stone settled in the pit of her stomach. The street was quiet, peaceful, and leafy…and she knew exactly where she was.
The Kissing Creek cemetery stretched out alongside the road, a sprawling green lawn with vibrant blades of grass and tall trees shuddering in the breeze. Dappled light flickered across her windshield, and a leaf drifted down, landing on the glass and sliding until it settled against her wipers.
Audrey stared for a moment, her gaze catching on the elegant wrought iron fence that ringed the cemetery and the lines of neat standard roses and rows of plaques. For some reason, it felt like Big Red had brought her here on purpose. Pushing the door open, Audrey got out of her car and slammed the door shut, not even bothering to lock it.
Her feet carried her toward the entrance, almost as if of their own volition. The scent of flowers and wet grass and dirt hit her nostrils, and memories kicked up like ocean sediment disturbed by a strong wave. Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone and texted Nicole.
AUDREY: I’m having the day from hell, and Big Red finally gave up the ghost. I’m stranded at the cemetery. Can someone come get me?
Nicole immediately texted back that she’d be there in fifteen. What would she do without her? Guilt struck Audrey for the fact that she hadn’t seen Nicole much lately. She’d skipped their last hike to pick up an extra shift at Kisspresso, and she’d been slow responding to texts.
Fifteen minutes. Audrey shifted on the spot, not sure how to kill the time. There was nothing much in this part of town, just houses. Getting to Main Street would take half an hour on foot, so that wasn’t an option.
She ventured into the cemetery, her throat immediately tightening. A memory floated up in her mind—Georgie crying because she accidentally spilled the can of Coke Audrey had bought her while they waited for their dad to meet with the funeral director. The brown fizzing liquid had splattered all over the ground and left spots on Georgie’s favorite sneakers. Her tears had come fierce and free in only the way a small child’s can. Oliver had looked on, scowling, silent. He’d already started turning in on himself then, tragedy snuffing out the last of his childhood joy and wonder.
Audrey drifted toward the flower shop, eyes unfocused. The florist recognized her right away—she was a regular at Kisspresso. That connection was how she ended up with a fistful of peonies in a