The smile on her face dims.Typical. “Oh. Which one?”
I pull out my phone and rattle off the three Zahra recommended. Meg quickly finds the books for me and rings up my purchase.
“There you go.” She hands me the bag full of books.
The bell above the door rings. I look over my shoulder to find Violet strolling inside with Delilah.
Fucking small towns.
I haven’t seen them in six years. While Violet’s hair color has changed back to her natural blond color, Delilah still looks the same, although the ring on her left hand and the cane she leans against are new to me.
Violet’s eyes connect with mine first. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I hold up my bag.
Her nose wrinkles. “Since when do you read?”
“It took me a few decades, but I finally got the hang of it.”
“You think this is all some kind of joke?” Violet charges toward me.
Meg disappears behind a stack of books, leaving me to deal with the red-faced woman who used to be one of my friends.
“I’m not here to cause problems.” I keep my voice neutral, repeating the mantra that seems to follow me everywhere.
“So Alana says, but I have a hard time believing that.” Violet stabs me in the chest with her finger.
Delilah frowns as she tugs on her friend’s arm. “Come on, Violet. Just leave him alone.”
She glances over at her friend. “One second.” Her head slowly swivels back toward me like something out of a horror movie. “If you’re here to screw with Alana again—”
I stop her. “I’m not.”
“You’re still drinking,” she states.
“Is that considered a crime?”
“It’s pathetic,” she hisses. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, yet having the words slung at me from someone who was once a friend cuts deeper than I care to admit.
Youarepathetic.
A heavy weight presses against my chest, making breathing an impossible task.
Her upper lip peels back. “You’re no better than her sister, making all these promises and never following through.”
My hand holding onto the bag tightens until my nails bite into my skin. “I know. Why do you think I left in the first place?”
Her eyes bulge.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go now.” My feet feel like someone attached two anvils to them, making every step exponentially more difficult than the last.
I bypass my car and head directly toward Last Call at the end of Main Street. It is a locals’ spot, so my entrance stirs up whispers and glares from everyone gathered around the bar.
I stick to the unoccupied stool at the end of the counter, right across from a few people I recognize from around town.
The dark-haired bartender walks over to me with a frown. I remember him from one of Lana’s birthday parties, although his face has filled out and his muscles have muscles.
Henry shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here.”