Fall Shook Up (Cozy Creek Collection)

Chapter 1

Claire

I wished I was one of those people who wore anxiety well. Perhaps a coy blush of the cheeks or a cool indifference. Maybe nobody looked good when anxious. Definitely not this lady. My stomach gurgled, and a splotchy flush crept up my neck as I looked out the front curtain facing the street for the tenth time. Outside, the sun set lower in the wide, bright Colorado sky as the days crept toward fall. In the surrounding Rockies, the tallest peaks already had yellowing leaves splattering through the green pines.

“What is it, kiddo?” Dad asked from the laptop where he chatted a thousand miles away in a small suburb of Chicago.

Fear of forgetting to finish a task or missing crucial information kept me pacing from one side of the townhouse to the other. The driveway had been empty. “I don’t know. It’s like that feeling like I left the stove on,” I said.

I pressed a hand to my chatty stomach.

“You always get that way when you come out of a research fugue state,” Dad said. “Your mother was like that.” We shared a quick, soft smile. “I’m sure everything is okay. Maybe still check the stove, though.”

“Once a fireman, always a fireman.”

I’d been so invested in my work for the past few weeks that returning to the world around me felt like returning to an alternate reality where everything looked the same, but the colors were slightly off, or the dresser was not in the same place.

I went to the kitchen and checked the stove. Again. Still off. All the burners too.

“Is it Kevin?” he asked when I wandered back into the room.

“Maybe,” I said. Kevin had been distant lately. Or maybe I had been distant. I was so lost in this article and my research that I wasn’t as available. But he knew this about me already. Our relationship had always worked because we were both so career-minded, and moving in together had meant to bring us closer. Six weeks in, and we were as distant as ever. We could work through it, though. As soon as this article was out, I could breathe and take some time to be more present. “I’m just eager to hear how things went today,” I finished, instead of sharing my relationship woes with my father.

“What time is it there?” he asked, making the “th” of there more like a “d” and the whole word sounding more like “deer. ”

There was this old SNL skit where a bunch of Bill Swerski’s Super Fans sit around talking about “Da Bears.” When Dad and his retired firefighter friends were all together, it was like walking into the skit in real time. In this case, the stereotype was completely accurate. Maybe with slightly better cholesterol. I was always struck sentimental when I heard even the smallest hint of a Midwest accent out here.

I shook my head. “Dad. I’ve lived in Colorado Springs for five years?—”

“Five stupid years.”

“I’m always one hour behind you. Take your time. Subtract one. Always.”

“I know. I know. But the time change always messes me up.”

“That’s months away,” I mumbled to myself. It was his way of making me feel smart and like he needed me. It was our thing, and I wouldn’t complain. “It’s September, and it’s six o’clock.”

“Hey. Don’t talk to me in that tone. I taught you how to pull the pin from your first fire extinguisher.”

“I’m just saying.”

“And I’m not nagging on ya. I was just asking if he was there yet because that was the fifth time you’ve checked the front window since you started talking to me,” he said with a pinch of salt.

I turned and propped my balled fists on my hips. “I don’t like the person you become when you win the daily Wordle first.”

“Not only did I win, but I beat you by a whole round,” he said.

“The power has gone to your head.” I took a deep breath in and out and looked around the small townhouse I had moved into officially a little over a month ago. It still looked and felt like Kevin’s place, as I hadn’t had a chance to get most of my stuff out of storage. This growing sense of insecurity nagged incessantly. My palms itched to pull up my spreadsheets and look through the data I already knew to be true.

“He’s actually leaving that place?” Dad asked about Kevin, rapidly changing the subject.

Nerves curled tighter around my stomach, creating an audible gurgle.

See. Not attractive. Hot Girl Anxiety shouldn’t sound like the sudden need to use the restroom.

“Of course,” I said. “His finance job was always temporary. Why would he choose a soulless corporate job over one where he could help people?” I placed my hand on my stack of folders, overflowing with research, as if to remind myself of its safety.

“And he’s fine with the pay cut from the nonprofit?”

“Yes.” Except for when I said it out loud, my stomach tightened.

“Well, good. I didn’t think he had it in him. Seems very into image,” Dad said.

I prickled in defense. “I know that’s how he can come off, but there’s a good guy underneath.” When we met after college, we had the same goals, the same values in life. It wasn’t some combustible love affair, but we understood each other and that felt important. Safe. But he also needed to eat, so he took the job with the brokerage firm.

“I know you don’t let many people in.” I shrugged his accusation away.

We weren’t one of those couples who were always together, each enjoying our own space. Moving in with him had been a huge decision that required multiple spreadsheets and pros and cons lists. I had seven teeth-falling-out dreams trying to decide whether I should give up the lease on my place. Ultimately, I made the big move.

In time, it would feel like home.

“You’re very hard on him,” I mumbled.

“I just want to make sure he sees what a treasure you are.”

I bit my tongue. Kevin and I had mutual respect and the same values. That was enough. Having a long-term partner required those two things more than fleeting and fanciful attraction.

“I just want to know how this is all going to work out.” I blew out a breath, went to the window, and peeked through the curtain again.

“Change is always scary. But he’s doing the right thing, Claire Bear. You both are.”

I spun to meet my dad’s eyes on the screen. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll feel better once the article is out, and we can put all this behind us. Maybe we could take a trip. I heard this little nearby town has this great bed-and-breakfast. I know we joke about a future where our brains can directly connect to some sort of ever-updating infinite resource of knowledge, but I would be the first person to sign up.”

“I never thought you were joking about that,” he said.

“Imagine being able to instantly know anything you wanted to know, fact-checked and credited.” The fine hairs on my arm stood on end, and I pointed at them. “Look. I have chills.”

He chuckled. “You’re so your mother’s daughter.”

I smiled at the compliment. Dad found my insatiable search for knowledge to be a quality and not an annoyance like most people. Aside from sharing my mother’s wide “toothy smile”—as many have felt the need to point out—her shining chestnut hair and deep-set dimples, I also inherited her unquenchable thirst to understand all things. There was nothing I hated more than missing something important because I didn’t have all the information.

“Anywho.” I heard him shift and jingle his keys. “I’m off to meet the guys down on Cicero.”

“The car show?”

“There’s rumor of a 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray.”

“Split window?”

“You betcha,” he said.

“Fancy. Eat a dog for me.”

“You know I will. Extra relish, no ketchup.”

“Obviously. Ketchup on a hot dog. Imagine,” I said.

We both shuddered at our long-standing snobbery.

“Maybe this weekend you can go meet up with some of your friends?” he asked in that tone, which was more of a suggestion than a question.

“Dad. I’m almost thirty. Why are you so worried that I don’t have friends? I have loads of friends.”

“Do you? Are they corporeal? Are they in the room with you now?” I flicked a look at my laptop again. Technically, they were online only, but that didn’t matter. They were more real than anything I’d yet to find. Except Kevin, of course. It was too hard to meet people in this city. I kept waiting for it to happen organically, but the city was too big. And I wasn’t exactly the smoothest in social situations.

“Even just since we started talking, I have several unread messages,” I insisted.

“Sure. You’re just so pretty?—”

“What does?—”

“And studies show the importance of meeting up with people and having that human connection.”

“I’ll need you to cite your sources.”

He waved a hand.

“Social media is not news,” I said. “It’s a curated algorithm that reinforces what you already believe.”

“I’m aware?—”

“I’m just not a social butterfly like you. You know this. Your intense social life is not for me.”

“Maybe if you gave it a shot,” he said.

Keys rattled in the door, and my middle protested.

“I hear Kev. I gotta go.”

“Talk to you later, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you.”

I closed the laptop and made my way to greet Kevin.

I was practically bouncing on the balls of my feet as he stepped into the house. “Well? How’d it go? Are you okay? Want a drink?”

He tugged off a cashmere scarf and shrugged out of his coat. It was still in the high sixties in the afternoon here, but he took seasonal fashion very seriously.

He tossed his arms out to the side and smiled widely. “I got a promotion.”

I blinked at him, and my stomach dropped to my toes. My smile was plastered in place, probably less of a smile and more of a grimace, working on being a smile. “Wh-what do you mean?”

He walked farther into his townhouse. I followed him, feeling a numbing sensation traveling to my toes. I must have misunderstood.

“Look. Before you get all … Claire about this. Just hear me out.” He went to the fridge and grabbed a kombucha.

“I don’t love my name being used in that context.” I crossed my arms as if to defend myself from his sharp words but shut my mouth so I could focus on what he had to say.

“I went to quit. Told them about the offer from the nonprofit, like we talked about, but listen.” His head sort of bobbed as he spoke, like a chicken looking for pebbles to masticate. I never noticed that before. Had it always done that? “I guess I didn’t realize how important I was around there.”

I slumped back onto the edge of the couch, causing it to slide on the hardwood floor. “Okay.” He glared at the flooring and bent to rub where there was no scratch.

“So yeah.” He took a long drink and burped a sour smell. “I told them I was leaving, and this was my two weeks’ notice.”

“Right.” That was the plan. The plan I had made a slideshow for. The plan that was written down in multiple places .

“And then they offered me a promotion with an insane raise. A fat one. I’m talking big money. Money that you and I have only ever dreamed of.”

“A promotion,” I repeated. A million different thoughts crossed my mind all at once.

I liked that Kevin had been raised a blue-collar Midwesterner like me when I met him out here in Colorado. We talked about childhoods playing until the fireflies came out, being latchkey kids, and block parties in the alleys. We both had an incredible work ethic and time management skills. These things made us great partners. I understood his fear of not having money drove him, but I never thought it was the most important thing.

“What about the nonprofit? That’s what your master’s is in,” I said. My tone was calm and cool. Emotions gathered in my gut, knotting together so that detangling them would take time.

His shoulders slumped. “Claire. I know. Maybe with this promotion, I’ll have more resources to help people differently.”

“Okay. Wow. Okay, I’m processing,” I said.

“There’s more, the best part—” He paused for dramatic effect here. I blinked slowly at him. “A move to New York!”

“Wait, what? New York City?”

“Manhattan.” He grinned thinly. “A gorgeous apartment in a fantastic area.” He cleared his throat. “They want me there next week.”

“Next week? But you just found out today?”

“Well, it was official today. They mentioned the position, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“But we talked about you leaving. We never talked about staying and a promotion.” I was missing something and felt like I was living in a different world than he was. This wasn’t the sort of promotion that came out of the blue. He had to have known.

“I tried to talk to you, but you know how you get. If you even leave your office long enough to talk.” He scratched at his neck, avoiding my gaze.

I slumped forward, arms wrapping around my middle.

“I can’t go to New York. My article is due to the editor in three weeks. It’s supposed to publish before the end of the year. I can’t even think about packing or moving.”

He took another long drink as I spoke, and his eyes hardened as he listened. When he set down the glass bottle with a smack of his lips, he sighed and said, “I kind of thought when I told you the big news that you could maybe not finish the article. We won’t need the money. I mean, technically, you haven’t even written it.”

My insides flipped around inside my body, like a raw egg being spun, and then stopped suddenly.

“Because I’ve spent the past year getting insider information. I was collecting interviews in secret. So much data combing and collection,” I explained as the dull throb between my temples grew more demanding.

“But you haven’t written it.”

“I gave an outline to my editor. It’s already mapped out. We’re well past the point of no return.”

“You don’t think it’s going to look bad if they find out my girlfriend is trying to bring down someone in the same industry?” he asked, arms crossed.

“You aren’t even supposed to be in this industry, helping the rich get richer.” I scoffed.

“I knew you’d be like this,” he said with an eye roll.

He wore the same face as when we were at those awful work parties, and I talked too long about the environmental impacts of oil fracking or microplastics. Like I was an embarrassment. We used to be on the same page.

I placed my hand on my chest to try to stop my gooey insides from spinning out. “I thought you wanted to make a difference?” I asked. “To help people.”

“This would help people. It would help us .” An angry flush spread up his neck. “You’re being hyper-self-indulgent about this. This is life-changing money. This is a great opportunity. I hoped you might be more supportive.”

“It’s not what we planned. Where is this coming from? How am I supposed to choose this?”

“It shouldn’t even be a choice,” he snapped. “This is our life. Why are others’ lives more important? I can give you a future we only dreamed about. Never worrying if our kids will be able to take trips or sign up for sports because they’re too expensive. Never wondering if there will be gifts from Santa or getting made fun of for wearing knock-off brands. Don’t you want that?”

My throat tightened. Too many thoughts rammed each other inside my head so that nothing got out.

“That’s not fair,” I pointed out.

“You’re not thinking this through. ”

I scoffed loudly. All my brain did was think things through. It never quieted or stopped until I got lost in research until it had a purpose.

“I know that your career is important. I have always supported you,” he said.

“Until it negatively impacts you.”

“Now you’re not being fair,” he said.

“You’re asking me not to publish a story that will save lives.”

“I’m asking you to put us first,” he said flatly.

“This is bigger than us. This is about changing and challenging the way things are done.”

“You’re making me sound like an asshole,” he said.

I bit back the words on my tongue. No. I think you’re doing that just fine on your own .

“How can you be so heartless?” he asked, and his hurt shone through.

Heartless ?

Was that how he saw me? How could I be expected to choose between the objectively right thing to do and a relationship that took years to cultivate? I didn’t have a gut instinct to guide me. I’d never felt in touch with my intuition. Facts and knowledge drove me.

Save dozens of families from financial ruin or ruin my relationship? I imagined the life he offered in NYC, living in a fabulous apartment and never having to worry about money. It was impossible to even imagine what a life like that would be like. Would it mean happiness ?

Not to mention the luxury of time that came with financial security. I could, in theory, help people that way too. I could hole up for days and track down sources; New York was the center of the world.

But then.

I remembered the single mother who invested her entire life savings in the exploitive money scheme my article would expose. The tiny ceramic beads she handcrafted lovingly every night after working all day and sold online just to have some money to invest. The hope in her eyes as she spoke of those same freedoms and opportunities for her children.

Who was I to decide to trade many people’s lives for the safety of my own? How would I ever be able to live with myself? My hands were clammy, and my stomach continued to churn, but underneath it all, a relentless resolve fueled me.

I didn’t need to take time alone to process this decision like I might normally.

I stood and pulled from a reserve I wasn’t sure I had. “If you are even asking me to do this, then you don’t know me at all.”

He sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing. “I knew you well enough to know you would pick your career over me.”

I stepped back, feeling hollow sadness and hot anger battle in my chest.

“I want you out,” he said.

My knees felt like they were going to give out. “What are you talking about? I live here.”

“Not anymore. I’m leaving for New York. I don’t want you here. It’s not a good idea. If you continue with the article, you’re risking my job.”

“I have to finish the story. You know that,” I said, even though my throat was almost too tight to talk.

“Of course I do. That’s all you care about. It’s all you talk about. When was the last time we even had a conversation that wasn’t about your job?”

“I—”

“You don’t even remember to feed yourself. You don’t talk to anybody. It’s like you’re not even here anyway.”

“You know how I am when I’m working. You said you understood, and that wasn’t an issue.”

“I thought it would get better when we moved in with each other. I thought you might put someone else first. But you only care about your current fixation. Maybe it’s better this way. This clearly isn’t working. I need a partner who is going to support my needs too.”

“You mean you want somebody who won’t make you feel guilty for shitty decisions?” I said.

“You don’t live in the real world, Claire. People like us have no control over people at the top. That article is a waste of time, and we both know it. If it even gets published. But you need to hold on so desperately to prove something to yourself, over our relationship.”

“I refuse to believe that nothing matters.” I glared at Kevin. I held his gaze, though it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger. “You’ll see when you finally have all that money that you think will make you happy just how wrong you are.”

“Don’t be so idealistic. You’re getting too old for that,” he said, almost bored.

“Wow, double blow,” I said numbly.

These weren’t the emotions I’d seen in breakups on TV and in movies. My eyes didn’t burn with unshed tears. I didn’t feel anything. Our words were sharp and nasty, but no emotion was behind them. I couldn’t feel anything besides the anxiety twisting its way through my gut. Like the smell of sour milk, I sensed the wrongness brewing around me in this place I called home, but I was still taken by surprise.

All I felt was an unrelenting desire to get away and this man I no longer knew.

I needed a plan to get out of here.

“We aren’t the same people who met in grad school,” he went on, determined to have the final words. “I thought we could help the world. But I know better now. You, of all people, should see how the world really works. One person can’t change these giant broken systems this country runs on.”

“So we give up?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“We get our piece and then help when we have the money. The money is the power.”

“I refuse to believe that.” I shook my head, fists balled, and a numbness spread through my appendages. “If I help one person, then it matters.”

I thought of ceramic beads and the tiny apartment housing four people .

He was wrong.

We used to be on the same page. I used to know Kevin, but this person was a cruel stranger. That was what happened when I locked myself away. People changed. The world changed. I promised myself I wouldn’t miss the signs of a breaking foundation last time, yet somehow, my life was crumbling around me, and I’d missed it all happening again. I didn’t have all the information, and now, I suffered the consequences. But I couldn’t think about that right now.

I didn’t have a home. I didn’t have the partner I thought I did, but I wasn’t giving up. I wouldn’t let this stranger in front of me be proven right.

I packed my bags and left that night.

First step—find a place to finish my article and show Kevin just how wrong he was.