2. Chapter One
Chapter One
"Now to the weather… like the rest of the week, severe thunderstorms and flash flooding are still forecast for the Greater St. Devil's Creek area. Emergency services are on standby and they advise that anyone who is able to stay inside should do so until the storm cell passes in a few days."
I click the television off, flinging the remote to the other side of the couch. Outside, rain hammers on the window, confirming that the meteorologists are correct, for once.
"That's morbidly depressing."
My gaze flicks over to my roommate, Blaise, who's poised on the single-seater armchair. His black coated nails are strumming to a silent tune on the armrest. He hasn't bothered to style his dark brown hair this morning — there's no point with this weather. We'd make it as far as the driveway before resembling some type of sea creature that's emerged from the depths of the deep.
"I like the part where they tell us to stay home if we can," I mumble sarcastically, tucking my legs under my ass. "Because bosses are so forgiving in this economy."
My boss at the warehouse was gracious enough to let me have one day off, mainly because he had little choice. The roads are flooded and my little Suzuki won't make it. He was adamant I could probably get there if I tried. Unfortunately, I haven't worked out how to turn my little car into a portable submarine. If I don't get to my shift tomorrow, I can kiss my job goodbye.
As much as I hate my job packing online orders, I can't afford to not have an income. Life has already been challenging recently, and the only thing getting me through it is the routine of work, eat, sleep. I need the structure and normality to pretend my life hasn't fallen to pieces.
It's been three weeks, four days and thirteen hours since my boyfriend ended things with me. It was out of the blue — one minute we were on the beach during vacation, the next he was dumping me over text message before promptly blocking me with no explanation.
We were only together for less than a year, but it still stings. Being twenty-nine, I decided to play for keeps. To me, it was serious. It was only a short amount of time, but I was hoping Jake would be the one I married in the future. And despite what happened, I thought he felt the same. We made promises to each other, agreeing we were on the same page. But the breakup came out of nowhere, leaving me questioning everything.
Was it me? Wasn't I enough? Did I do something wrong?
I wish I could say there was a trigger to the whole event, but there wasn't even so much as a fight. He texted me goodnight after a two hour phone call, I fell asleep, only to wake up to a random message ending things.
I stupidly thought for a brief moment it was a prank since it was the first of April. But when the hours passed and I remained blocked, I realized the sickening truth. He also blocked me on Facebook and Instagram, cutting off any connection I had to him.
Slowly, the hours turned into days and before I knew it, I was here. A month of torture — haunted by memories, touches, and doubts.
I should have done the normal breakup thing and went out and got drunk with my friends, but I put it off, spending some time processing things. And now that I was finally ready to do all the crazy shit to forget him, the weather decided to be a bitch and keep us inside. Well, except for needing to go to work.
My asshole boss must think highly of my survival skills or weather-controlling abilities — but alas, I'm not a God. I'm just a normal, sad woman who has $17 in the bank account, lives with a roommate, has a sad addiction to reading, and burns microwave popcorn even when following instructions.
"Everything is depressing," I finally answer Blaise, digging myself out of the pity hole. "I feel bad for you though. It must suck not being able to see Nathan."
Blaise gives me a soft smile, his light brown eyes dancing slightly at the mention of his boyfriend. "We've been Facetiming. It's just not safe for him to drive here. It's an hour on the best of days, let alone this shit weather."
"Understandable," I murmur. "At least you get to work from home. Marco thinks I'm going to adapt and grow gills."
A real whiz at the computer, Blaise took a massive leap six months ago, starting his own IT consulting business. He helps build websites and social medias, and in this day and age, technology seems to be a safe bet. I guess in comparison, online deliveries have been spreading like wildfire since covid lockdown, but does it make me happy? Absolutely not. The papercuts aren't worth the dickhead boss, minimum pay, and long hours.
"You should quit," Blaise answers simply. "Tell him to fuck off."
I laugh before letting out a little groan. "And leave you to have to pay the rent on your own? No way. Nathan already hates me as it is."
His eyes soften with amusement. "He doesn't hate you. He's antisocial. There's a difference. Nath just has resting bitch face."
"Or," I offer. "He hates me."
Blaise shakes his head in disbelief. "Jake really did a number on you, didn't he? You're the most selfless, kind person, Skylar. Don't let that asshole determine your self-worth. What he did was wrong, and only a coward blocks after a text message breakup. If he can't even man up and face his own actions, that's a reflection of him, not you."
My nose wrinkles as I bite back an argument. Instead, I turn my attention back to the rain outside, watching droplets slide down the glass panes. "I just would have preferred some closure."
"The only closure you need is to lock and bolt the door after that asshole shut it. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and once it's done and you let it go, you make room for what was needed to take its place."
"If IT ever gets boring, you could probably make a career out of motivational speaking," I tell him with a laugh.
Blaise grins. "So, my words are working?"
"Not really," I snort playfully, standing up and stretching. "But maybe I'm the problem. I'm defective. If there's a way to return me to factory settings, we could start again."
"You're late, Lara."
My left eye twitches as I hang my drenched jacket onto the staff room hook. "Skylar," I correct him, knowing he's not that stupid. I've worked with Marco for over a year. He absolutely knows my name, but still insists on getting it wrong every time we speak.
He taps his gold watch with a raised eyebrow, ignoring my comment. "Your shift started eight minutes ago. I'm going to have to dock your pay."
I stand before him, dripping like a wet cat — probably the closest drenched pussy he'll ever get to in his life. "Four out of the five roads to get here were closed, Marco. The fifth one was only just accessible because they are doing maintenance on it to remove excess water. It wasn't even accessible yesterday."
"Well, I'm here," he argues. "If I can do it, everyone should be able to do it."
Blinking in disbelief, I shove my handbag into my locker. "You… you live above the warehouse."
"I'm here," he reiterates angrily. "Don't make excuses. You can start in the bridal section today."
That motherfucking balloon hole. We have no less than fifty sections in the warehouse, all different sections from distributors. Yet, he knows I've just gone through a breakup. He overheard me talking about it and now he's using my pain as punishment.
Despite Blaise's comforting advice to tell him to fuck off, I bite my tongue, counting to ten before just giving him a nod silently. I'm not going to let him see that he's getting to me. It's not fair on Blaise to be stuck with the financial responsibility for his roommate, and I'll be damned if I let another asshole beat me down right now.
I'm almost regretting not quitting right then and there when I get to the bridal section in the back corner of the warehouse, looking at lace and tulle poking out of boxes. I don't blame people for buying dresses online in this cost of living crisis, but it breaks my heart seeing how poorly they get packed sometimes.
Heading over to the computer, I scan the orders list, printing out a batch of forms and receipts. Getting to work, I start gathering various bits of wedding attire and decor, setting up my packaging station. At least being in the back corner, I'm nowhere near Marco's office and I can avoid him the entire day.
Putting my cell on the countertop, I open up Spotify, hitting play on my music to help pass the time. Outside, the rain splatters hard on the warehouse roof, making the whole building sound like a shower.
It's not the worst shift of all time — mainly because I'm away from the boss from Hell. Eventually, I'm able to zone out the glittery reminders of my breakup, entering my female rage era as I play The Tortured Poet's Department over and over.
If anything, I start questioning Jake's motives. What kind of coward just ends things suddenly without an explanation or reason? Everyone is entitled to their feelings and we all know that relationships sometimes don't last. But, he could at least have had the decency to be a human being and give me the closure I deserved. I'm a reasonable person — always accepting of things even when they hurt because I worry about other people's feelings more than my own.
But I deserved that.
I fucking deserved a proper breakup.
It takes a lowly human to do what he did. And realistically, why would I want someone who can't even look me in the eye to say goodbye? We deserve real men, who will be respectful and honest. It's the bare minimum and we shouldn't have to beg for it.
By the time my shift finally ends, I'm raging so hard that I forgot about the rain. I ignore Marco as I grab my things from my locker, holding my head high so he knows he didn't break me today, and strut outside to the parking lot.
As the rain blasts me in the face, hitting me hard like tiny little knives, I realize I might be in a bit of a clusterfuck.
There's a tiny layer of solid water across the parking lot, drenching my boots. While it doesn't seem too bad, the problem lies ahead.
The parking lot is raised from the road with somewhat decent drainage. However, the roads on the other hand…
High water gushes down the street, sending garbage cans on a river adventure. I'm soaked to the bone, watching as cars drive slowly through the rising water. The public drains are struggling to keep up with the flow, exacerbated by the excess flow from surrounding industrial parking lots tumbling down.
It's been drilled into us that if there's flood water, don't drive in it. But when the remaining option is to sleep at the warehouse with my dickhead boss, I know what I'd rather choose.
My Suzuki flashes as I hit the keypad, barreling into the car. I immediately drench the seat, wiping water out of my eyes and hair.
We're going on a rapid river adventure. Hold on tight, motherfuckers.