I hand her my card. “You talk to Sheridan still?”
Her brows lift but she doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, she almost smirks, as if she was waiting for that question.
“We talk sometimes, yeah,” she says.
“How’s she doing?”
She slides my card into the reader. “Great. She seems happy.”
My chest burns. “Good. Good for her. Maybe tell her ‘hey’ for me next time you talk to her.”
Adriana slides me a receipt and pen. “Or maybe you can tell her yourself? She’ll be home next month for Christmas. I think she has three or four weeks off, I can’t remember. She was going to come home this week, but her parents decided to go up there for a couple of days instead.”
Good to know.
“Yeah, well, I don’t think she wants to see me.” I slide the charger off the counter and tuck it into my coat pocket.
“August.” She laughs through her nose, head tilted and hand on her hip. “When has that ever stopped you before?”
I sniff. She’s got a point. But it’s different now. I didn’t care about her before. All that mattered was what I wanted. Any pain or confusion I inflicted on her was collateral damage and not my concern.
But she’s made herself clear these last few months.
I may not agree with it, but I have to respect that—because I love her.
“Listen.” Adriana leans in, voice low despite the fact that we’re the only two here. “I shouldn’t tell you this. But she asks about you every time we talk.”
“What?”
“Yeah. She asks if I’ve seen you around town, if I’ve heard what you’re up to,” she says. “She misses you. And honestly, the way she talks, I think she still loves you—she’s just afraid to admit it, you know? Because of everything.”
“I’ll be right back.”
A second later, I’m sitting in my front seat, scratching out a note on a piece of notebook paper.
I fold it in half twice and run it back inside.
“I need you to give this to her next time you see her,” I tell Adriana. “Can you do that for me?”
Her dark gaze drops to the letter. “Yeah. I can do that.”
She slips it into her back pocket.
“August?” I’m halfway to the door when she calls my name.
I stop. “Yeah?”
“I hope it works out for you two.”
Placing my hand on the door, I nod. “It will.”
Because I’m not giving up on her.
Not yet. Not now. Not ever.
Chapter Forty
Sheridan
* * *
My parents’ house smells like a winter wonderland. The second I walk through the door, I’m met with a nasal cocktail of gingerbread, cinnamon, pumpkin and sugar cookies. Dad is apparently baking up a storm …
“Hey,” I give him a wave as I place my bag by the door.
I haven’t been home all semester. I told my parents I was busy with classes and clinicals, but that wasn’t entirely true. While I’ve lived my entire life in Meredith Hills, all it reminds me of now is that single, heartbreaking summer.
And him.
I wasn’t ready to come back.
But I couldn’t get out of winter break.
“Hey, kiddo.” He slides off his oven mitts and places them by the stove before giving me a hug. “Mama’s in the living room. She can’t wait to see you.”
I head to the next room, stopping in my tracks when I’m met with a voluminous tree that takes up a third of our tiny living room and blocks the entire front window.
“Wow,” I tell Mama as she moves and maneuvers Christmas ornaments, dispersing them ever so perfectly. She’s having a good day. Dad said she’s having a lot of those lately. And the doctors think her bout with Guillain-Barre is on the mend as she hasn’t had an episode or showed any nerve weakness in months. “This is different … why does it look so different? It’s fuller than I remember.”
She smiles, giving me a side hug. “That’s because this one isn’t from the early nineties.”
“Aw, you got rid of the old one?”
“That thing was falling apart and you know it.” She chuckles, though I kind of feel bad for the old tree. We’d had it since I was a baby and the thing was older than me. My parents got it for ten bucks at Goodwill one year. Never really could afford to replace it—until now.
My father won his settlement last month. It wasn’t as much as they were hoping for, but it’s enough to make a difference in their lives. It certainly seems to be making a difference in her health these days, that’s for sure. And that alone is compensation enough in my eyes.
“Did your father tell you he’s taking me on a little weekend getaway for New Year’s?” she asks. “He hasn’t told me where we’re going yet. It’s a surprise.”
I’m happy that they’re able to take a trip, even if it’s only for a couple of days, but they’ve only had this money a month now and it’s already burning cigarette-sized holes in their pockets. It’s all going to add up if they’re not careful.