I responded absentmindedly, staring at the orange flyer tacked to the diner’s bulletin board, advertising this weekend’s Fall Festival.
I’d never lived somewhere that threw a giant party at the changing of the seasons, or maybe I’d been too wrapped up in other things to notice…or too drunk to care. Either way, welcoming fall was definitely something I was down for. Fall was when everything got a little easier.
The longer I stayed sober, the more I realized how much I’d missed. There were countless nights I couldn’t remember and blotches of time that were blurred or just flat in my memory.
Hell, every summer for the past nine years felt like a TV show I’d napped through, only picking up bits and pieces and wondering if any of it had really happened or if it was all in my head.
I fucking hated summer.
“Nix, will you teach me to play guitar?” Her sweet voice sliced through me without warning, paralyzing my muscles as I fought the memory’s grip.
Her eyes had been big, blue, and so full of hope that what breath I could drag into my lungs felt like inhaling shards of glass.
“Sure, I will,” I’d responded.
“Thank you!” She’d practically jumped up and down with excitement.
But I hadn’t taught her.
I’d left a week later and then broke every promise I’d ever made to her.
“Nixon?”
“Nixon.” Zoe’s voice broke through, and I blinked rapidly. Her hands were warm on my face, and her eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine,” I lied. I was never going to be fine. I sure as hell didn’t deserve to be.
“Are you sure?” Her thumbs stroked over my cheeks.
I swallowed the rock in my throat and pulled away from her soothing touch. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t convinced, but she lowered her hands to her lap and pivoted on her stool to face the diner counter, watching me from the corner of her eye.
I shaped the brim of my ball cap and buried my face in the menu. Drink. Erase it. Run as fast and as far as you can.
Damn, would that instinct ever not blare at three hundred decibels in my head? Probably not. But I’d gone eight weeks without giving in, and I had no intention of today being the day, so I did what I had to and shoved it to the furthest corner of my mind.
After we consumed the largest stacks of pancakes known to man and I won the battle over the bill, Zoe led us out to Main Street. This town wasn’t just small, it was tiny, but I liked it. There were no blaring horns or screaming fans, so it was a hell of a lot calmer than Seattle, but quiet had always been my brain’s worst enemy. It let the thoughts in, the memories, the never-ending abyss of guilt.
“You did it!” Zoe beamed at me as we walked toward the car, her cheeks pink from the chill.
“Ate breakfast? Is that the new standard? Or does the lack of oxygen up here make it especially challenging?” We passed the store where I’d purchased my jacket a couple hours earlier and crossed the street.
She rolled her eyes. “You ate an entire meal out in public, which is a first since you got back.” She tilted her head at me. “But what happened in there?”
“What are you talking about?”
She gave me a hefty helping of side-eye. “You know what.”
“I don’t.” Nope. Not going there.
“You zoned out.” She halted, and I let out a long, frustrated sigh as I stopped a few feet ahead.
I counted to three, then I turned to face her. She didn’t look quite so Ms. Shannon today. Maybe it was the jeans or the messy bun, or just being in her hometown, but she was missing that little layer of uptight, organized frost that usually served as a perfect barrier between us.
She arched an eyebrow.
“Let it go,” I warned.
She tilted her head and debated.
“Let. It. Go.” My voice dropped.
Her gaze cooled to glacial, and she walked right by me. There she is.
I cursed myself under my breath and followed her. Every person we passed waved or said hello to her by name, and she responded in kind. We’d never been somewhere together where she’d been the recognized one, which was yet another change of our dynamic. I kept my hat low and avoided eye contact. It was easy to escape recognition when no one expected you to show up in the middle of small-town Colorado.