Page 92 of Shattered Promise

Then he’s gone.

35

ABBY

The airoutside the office building smells like rain on concrete and burnt espresso. Familiar enough to ground me, sharp enough to sting.

The folder is still in my hand—light, but my fingers clench around it like I might float away if I let go. My heart beats fast. Not panicked, not exactly. Just . . .loud.

I can’t believe I did it. I just quit my job.

The words loop in my head like they belong to someone else. Someone braver, someone more sure.

My boss was understanding if not surprised. She asked me if I was sure seven times, doubt and pity etched into her pretty features. I’m actively trying not to let those thoughts consume me though.

My heels click across the sidewalk, a half-step off rhythm. I’ve never loved this part of town, even though I was supposed to. It’s too clean, too modern, too full of people pretending to be more.

I used to be one of them. All sharp edges and tailored ambition. Now I feel like a shadow walking through someone else’s life.

A passing window catches my reflection, and I pause. The woman looking back at me is standing too still. Chin up, shoulders back, mouth curved like she just got away with something. She looks outwardly happy but there’s a terrified gleam in her eyes if you look closer.

I blink and the gleam dissipates.

The memory of my mother’s voice slices through the fog:You have a real job now, Abby. Something to be proud of.

I swallow hard and keep moving toward my car. Like that could press the mounting anxiety back down into the small box I usually keep it in.

In the trunk, some moving boxes and a brand new navy suitcase. I bought it after I landed this morning, just in case I needed more space than I thought.

I slide into my car and unlock my phone.

Me: It’s official. I’m jobless

His response comes fast. A photo of Theo in dinosaur pajamas, his hair mussed from sleep, clutching a stuffed lion and grinning wide.

A breath I didn’t know I was holding slips out of me. God, that kid, that house, andthat man.

I can’t wait to go home.

The bar is mostly empty,sunlight bleeding through the dusty blinds in long, golden slats. It smells like citrus cleaner and stale beer. Familiar. Faintly off.

Beth’s crouched behind the counter, inventory clipboard in hand. When the door creaks open, she pops up fast—too fast.

“Abby?” Her face lights up like a spark to dry leaves. “Oh my god, I knew this would happen.”

Before I can answer, she’s around the bar and pulling me into a hug. It lasts a beat too long, her grip snug around my middle like she doesn’t want to let go. Her perfume is sharp and floral, clinging to the inside of my nose.

I gently ease back. “What would happen?”

Beth waves a hand, like the answer’s obvious. “You. Coming back home.”

My brow furrows. “Actually, I’m not coming back,” I say carefully. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to say thanks. For being kind. And to let you know I’m staying in Avalon Falls for the foreseeable future.”

Her smile falters. Not all at once, but like a ripple over glass. “Oh.”

She recovers too quickly. “They must really like you back there.”

A finger starts tapping the edge of the bar. Steady. Too steady. The sound starts to crawl under my skin.