Page 18 of How to Break My Heart

Red lace—how fitting for Valentine’s Day.

But my head isn’t in it.

And as much as I try to shake off this nagging feeling, the thought of traveling back home to Cinnamon Springs dampens my mood. I left that small town behind for a reason, and the city is now my life.

I text Bianca to let her know I’ll meet her in an hour. With my phone tucked back into the pocket of my suit pants, I push the door open and head back inside to finish my drink with Will and Amelia. But it doesn’t stop at the second or third, and by the time I reach the sixth, I finally figure out what’s gnawing at me and refusing to leave my conscience.

Everleigh Woods.

CHAPTER 4Eva

My feet dangle over the shallow water as I sit on the edge of the crooked dock.

With a steady heartbeat, I breathe in the crisp air and watch the ripples in the water from the slight breeze.

My hands are tucked into my coat to protect them from the cold, even though I’m wearing gloves. As I sit here and take in the serenity of Peppermint Lake, I try to process my best friend taking the biggest leap of her life.

Marriage. It’s not like I’m afraid of commitment, but marriage is huge.

Divorce is even bigger.

Not that Maddy’s marriage to Myles will end in divorce, but is forever really forever?

“Shut up, brain,” I mutter.

A dark gray frog with mottled skin suddenly appears and sits on a log floating not too far from me. He eyes me dubiously. At least, I think he’s eyeing me, but it’s hard to tell with his beady eyes.

“I’m calling you Houdini since you magically appeared out of nowhere,” I tell him. “When I move in here, I promise to find you a bigger log to chill on if you promise not to poison me.”

Houdini ribbits, then hops into the water like he’s tired of my BS already.

The natural beauty of this place gives me an escape from my thoughts. My dream is to one day restore the old Edwardian house next to this rusted old dock, which I probably shouldn’t be sitting on, and make it my own. People think I’m crazy, and when I saypeople, I mean Maddy and Billie. The house is dilapidated, and nothing at all like the other old properties in town, which are very well maintained. It would need so much work, but that makes me want it even more. Every time I visit, I imagine just how beautiful the property could be with the right vision—and money.

I’ve tried to explain it to Maddy and Billie several times, the feeling that consumes me when I’m here, but they try to bring me back to reality.

Permits, demolition, construction workers who bend over and expose way too much ass crack. I didn’t think that was a thing until we needed some floorboards repaired in the store.

Some things I can never unsee.

I have my deposit saved, ready to strike when the owners who inherited the land are ready to sell. I got my realtor to reach out to them last year, but their lawyer said it was a family property, and no amount of money would make them sell. He wouldn’t tell us who owned it.

I call bullshit. How important could it be if they left it to rot all these years?

Still, I long for the day I’ll be able to get my hands on this place and officially call it mine. My vision board has a photo of the house, one I took at the end of last year. I promised myself this would be the year to finally follow my dreams. After spending all my time focusing on the café, I’m ready to make the next move as long as business remains steady and the bank loans me the rest of the money.

But until they’re willing to sell me the property, my small apartment will have to do.

I sit for a while longer, and as always when I’m here, time is lost on me.

My phone pings with a text.

Maddy

I’m on my way. Do we want tacos? Chinese? Pizza?

I quickly respond.

Me