Chapter 2 #2
The house was quiet when I got home.
Not the kind of quiet that felt empty. Just… still. Settled. Like it had been waiting for me to come back and fill it up again.
I pushed the front door closed behind me, the soft click echoing a little more than it should have in a place this big. My keys hit the hook by the door out of habit, and my purse slid onto the bench beneath it as I kicked off my shoes.
The hardwood floors were cool under my feet as I stepped further inside, the faint smell of lemon cleaner lingering in the air from when I’d wiped everything down that morning before work.
Old habits. My mom had drilled that into me early.
Clean as you go, clean before you leave, and clean before you relax.
The lights in the kitchen were still on, casting a warm glow over the wide-open space. I must’ve left them on when I rushed out earlier, too busy overthinking what to wear and then rethinking it again before settling on something that didn’t make me want to crawl out of my own skin.
I walked into the kitchen, running my hand along the edge of the island as I passed. It was big. Bigger than any kitchen had a right to be, really. My parents had always joked that they built it this way because they couldn’t stop bringing work home from the Dairy Bar.
And it wasn’t really a joke.
This was where it had all started. The menu.
The recipes. The trial and error that turned into what the Dairy Bar was now.
Late nights and early mornings, spilled milk on the counters, grease splattered on the stove, and my mom scribbling notes while my dad taste-tested everything like it was his job.
Which, I guess, it kind of had been.
Now the counters were clean, the appliances quiet, everything in its place.
It felt… different without them here. Not bad, just quieter than it used to be.
I opened the fridge and scanned the shelves. Leftovers, condiments, a few containers of things my mom had prepped before they left for the cabin.
And wine coolers.
I grabbed one, twisting the cap off as I shut the fridge with my hip. The first sip was cold and a little too sweet, but I didn’t care.
I moved through the house without thinking about it, drifting past the living room with its oversized couch and the second family room my parents insisted we needed even though we barely used it.
Four bedrooms sat down the hallway. Mine at the end, the others mostly empty now except for the occasional weekend visit or when my parents decided to stay home longer than expected.
Three bathrooms. A rec room in the basement with a pool table and ping pong table that had seen more action when I was in high school than it had in the last few years.
The place was… a lot.
Not exactly normal for someone my age.
Most people I knew were in apartments or sharing houses with roommates, figuring things out one paycheck at a time.
Me?
I lived here.
Some people would say I still lived at home, but my parents were gone more than they were here, and when they were here, it still felt like I was the one keeping everything running.
So yeah.
I lived here.
And one day, it would all be mine.
The Dairy Bar. The house. Everything they’d built.
I took another sip of the wine cooler and pushed open the back door, stepping out onto the deck.
The night air wrapped around me immediately, cool against my skin, carrying the faint sound of frogs from the pond out back. The deck stretched wide across the back of the house, leading down to the yard and the gazebo that sat just off to the side, half-hidden by the trees.
It was beautiful out here.
I leaned against the railing, resting my elbows on the wood as I stared out over the water. The surface of the pond reflected the moonlight in broken ripples, the occasional movement from something beneath the surface sending small waves across it.
I took a sip of the wine cooler.
It had been a… good night.
I hesitated even thinking it, like saying it too confidently might ruin it somehow, but it had been.
Jesse had picked me up right after my shift, just like he said he would. He’d been on time. Clean. Put together without looking like he tried too hard. He’d taken me to this little place just outside of town. Nothing fancy, but not cheap either.
Somewhere in the middle.
We’d talked about normal things. Work. Growing up. Why he’d moved here. He’d listened when I talked, asked questions like he actually wanted the answers, laughed at the right moments without it feeling forced.
He hadn’t stared at me in that way that made me want to disappear into my own skin.
He hadn’t ignored me either.
Just… treated me like I was there.
Like I mattered.
I took another sip.
It had been good.
No sparks and no butterflies, but good.
And maybe that was enough. Or maybe it was supposed to be.
I shifted my weight against the railing, staring out at the water as I tried to sort through the rest of it.
I’d been on dates before.
None of them stuck.
Maybe because they weren’t him.
I took a longer drink this time, the sweetness of it almost too much as it slid down my throat. Hell, how in the world did I get so obsessed with Jude?
I let out a quiet breath, staring harder at the pond like it might have an answer for me.
The boy, now a man, had never done anything to make me fall for him. He’d never flirted. Never made a move. Never given me any reason to think he saw me as anything other than… me.
He’d just been him.
And I guess that was my type.
Jude was my type.
Another sip.
“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath.
I dragged my sleeve across my mouth, wiping away the leftover sweetness as I shook my head.
I had just been on a pretty good date. A good date.
And I was still out here thinking about Jude.
“What is wrong with you, Ever?” I said out loud, the words carrying just enough into the quiet to make it feel real.
I tipped the bottle back, taking a longer drink this time.
I needed to get over Jude.
That wasn’t new.
But I was finally tired of it.
I leaned forward slightly, resting more of my weight against the railing as I stared down at the water.
Jude was never going to look at me as more than just the fat girl who worked at the Dairy Bar.
I straightened, lifting the bottle again before taking another long drink. The liquid was almost gone now, just a few sips left sloshing at the bottom.
I tipped the bottle back, finishing the last of the wine cooler before lowering it slowly, my grip tightening slightly around the glass.
“I’m done,” I said, more firmly this time.
The words hung in the air for a second before fading into the night.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe it.