It’s just damn awkward.
But June is my ride, so I sit next to her and quietly listen to the story of Tanner’s aunt. I liked Aunt Becky a lot when we were dating. She was always very kind to me.
I check my watch and sigh, and June’s gaze turns my way.
“You okay, Sarah?”
“Sure.”
“I think she’s tired,” Tanner replies and stands. “I’ve kept you long enough. I’ll be sure to keep you posted on all of Aunt Becky’s kitchen mishaps. Have a good evening, ladies.”
He nods and leaves, and I immediately stand.
“You know, I could go for a milkshake to go,” June says. “I mean, sure, I shouldn’t because that’s a lot of calories, but I’ve been busting my ass lately.”
“June, I’m going to say this in the nicest way possible. Please, for the love of all that’s holy in this universe, take me the hell home.”
“Oh, sure. Hey, I’m sorry. Let’s go.”
We walk out to June’s truck, and I sigh in relief when I sit in the seat.
“You’ve had a long week, haven’t you?” June asks.
“Yeah, a lot of hours at the diner. But, I’m grateful for the job, so I won’t complain. Sunny just gave me tomorrow off.”
“Awesome. You should—”
“Nope.”
She glances my way as she turns to drive up the hill to her grandmother’s house. “Huh?”
“I shouldn’t doanythingexcept sleep late, go walk the beach, snuggle Petunia, and write in my journal. Maybe paint a little.”
“So, I shouldn’t ask you to help me with garden prep, then?”
I wince and look out the passenger window. “Please don’t.”
“You deserve a day of rest and pampering,” June says, patting my leg. “I totally get it. I’m just too antsy for those days, so it never occurs to me, you know?”
“I know. I really need a quiet day.”
“Then a quiet day you shall have.”
She parks in her spot near the house, and my feet ache as I slide out of the truck onto the gravel below.
You would think that after six months or so of constantly being on my feet, they’d be used to it by now, but they’re not.
“I need to soak my feet,” I mutter and hobble my way up the steps to the front door.
“You need better shoes, too,” June says as she opens the door, and we walk inside.
She’s not wrong, I likelydoneed better footwear, but I’ve been hoarding my money away so I can rent a place to live.
Shoes don’t fit into that budget.
“I’m going to go see Petunia,” I tell June and set off up the stairs. “I’ll come help you in a bit.”
“Thanks,” June says. I hear her walk into the heart of the house, likely looking for Annabelle.