Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
brYNN
Packing a suitcase should be a ten-minute job.
Roll, fold, stack, zip. But I’d spent the last hour staging a small-scale invasion of my closet, every shirt and sock.
The contents of my life—wrinkled sundresses, half-used travel bottles, an embarrassing amount of hair products—looked both pitifully meager and overwhelming.
I yanked on a buckle inside, but it jammed.
The resistance sent a spike of rage up my neck.
I wanted to hurl the whole thing off the balcony.
Instead, I slumped onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling fan.
My jaw ached from being clenched so long.
Every time I swallowed, my throat fought back, the memory of Dean’s exit still snagged there like a fishhook.
He’d been gone a couple of hours, and I’d immediately latched onto the mindless activity of packing to delay the inevitable.
It was almost funny how heartbreak turned you into your worst self.
Last night, I’d been full of heat and daring.
Today, I was a stone statue—heavy, silent, hollow.
The crying hadn’t started yet, but I could feel it lurking, waiting for me to loosen my grip.
Outside my window, gulls shrieked, utterly unbothered by human drama. I envied them.
I rolled a shirt, my hands shaking enough to make the seams crooked. I started over, desperate to get it right. It was the only thing I could control. I held up the blue linen dress, the one I’d worn to the mixer the first night. It seemed so long ago.
The moving on with my life dress.
I held it up to my face, the fabric cool against my cheek. “Where am I going to wear it? To grade papers on my couch? To another awkward faculty mixer? To a solo dinner at the same Thai place I always go to?”
My gaze dropped to the other items in my suitcase—sensible shorts, my one swimsuit, my teacher-friendly tops. I tried to picture myself putting them back in my closet in Atlanta, slotting them back into the neat, predictable, safe life I’d built.
The thought brought a wave of suffocating dread.
I clenched my eyes and said the truth out loud. “My safe life in Atlanta isn’t a home. It’s a waiting room. I’ve been waiting for my real life to start for years, and I’m scared it just walked out the door.”
The idea of going back to that quiet, empty apartment, to that life where I had a great job but nothing else ever happened, was more terrifying than the prospect of staying here with a broken heart.
But would working here as a teacher be any different?
The more I thought about it, the more unrealistic Doris’s off-the-cuff idea of selling me the ice cream shop seemed. I’d never qualify for financing.
I couldn’t go forward. I didn’t want to go back. But what else was there? I rolled up the dress and placed it inside the duffel.
A soft knock came at the door. I knew it was Holly before she spoke—nobody else in the family knocked gently. “Brynn? You up?”
I almost lied. Said I was fine or pretended to be sleeping. She was probably here to gush about her post-wedding-night bliss, and I wasn’t sure I could take it. But the shape of her shadow under the door broke my will.
“Yeah,” I replied and opened the door. “Come in.”
Holly slipped in, her hair in a messy bun that defied the laws of physics. She took in the battlefield of clothes, her gaze flicking from my scattered, half-packed clothing to my empty stare. “Did a hurricane come through? Or is this some sort of metaphor?”
“Packing,” I said. My voice was as flat as a test pattern.
She hovered by the desk, clearly wanting to hug me but too smart to close in before I was ready. “You’re not leaving until tomorrow.”
“I wanted to get a head start.”
She sat on the foot of the bed, careful not to disturb the shirts. “B, are you okay?”
I let out a sound, something between a cough and a laugh. “Not exactly.”
Holly chewed her lip, then picked up a T-shirt and started folding. I stared at the angry red half-moons where my nails had dug into my palms. The words were a clot in my chest, but I forced them out.
“He left,” I said, flopping onto the unmade bed. The one that still smelled like him. “Dean, I mean. He just… left.”
She blinked, her expression shifting from concern to confusion. “Left? What do you mean, left? I thought the plan was to fake it through the trip.”
I shook my head, heat pricking behind my eyes. “That was the plan. But it… it stopped being fake for me, Hols.” I snapped my jaw shut, embarrassed by the tears worming out despite all my defenses.
Holly edged closer and sat, her hand finding my ankle. “Brynn, what happened?”
I tried to smile and failed. “It stopped being a joke. I fell for him, and we had this stupid, amazing night. It became real to me. And I thought he felt it too.”
“And?”
I thought of his raw, very real panic attack.
No, I wouldn’t talk about that. Regardless of what happened, that was a confidence between him and me.
“He woke up and looked at me like I’d ruined his life.
He couldn’t even stay in the same room. He’s probably already rescheduled his flight and is on his way to the airport. ”
“Oh, honey.” Holly’s expression was pained. “I saw it too. The way he looked at you during the toasts, the dancing… that wasn’t an act. I’m so sorry.”
Her thumb made slow circles on my foot. The touch was an anchor in my storm.
I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye, trying to stop the flood.
“He called it a vacation fling. Said people come here to forget, not to find themselves.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a shudder.
“He made it sound like I was the only idiot who didn’t get the memo. ”
The ache in my chest just got sharper, a splinter working its way deeper every time I drew breath. “I’m done, Hols. I’m done letting my happiness depend on a man who runs the second things get complicated.”
Holly’s eyes were red-rimmed now too. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. You’re allowed to hurt first.”
I nodded, but the resolve in me was already hardening, like a scar forming over fresh skin.
“What about staying here to teach?”
I’d told her about Eli’s suggestion, but not about Doris’s offer. Now that seemed more like a blessing. “I need to leave. I can’t stay here, not with everyone watching and waiting for me to fall apart.”
She reached for my hand. “You’re not falling apart. You’re making a decision.”
“I’m making the only one I know how to. I’m going back to Atlanta.”
After squeezing my fingers, she placed some toiletries in a zip-close bag. “When do you fly out again?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll Uber to the airport.”
“Not happening. I’ll take you. And I’m bringing donuts.”
A strangled laugh escaped me. Holly grinned, the same lopsided smile she’d worn since we were kids. She piled the bag into my suitcase. “Anything else you want to pack?”
“Just my dignity. Assuming I can find it.”
She shook her head. “You never lost it. That’s the problem with you, B. You’re too good at holding it together. It makes people like Dean think you don’t need them.”
I wanted to argue, but it was too close to the truth. “I really thought he was different. I thought he saw me.”
Holly’s smile was gentle but fierce. “He did, and it scared the hell out of him. That’s not your fault.”
I wiped my nose on my T-shirt sleeve. “So what now?”
She zipped the bag with authority. “Now we get coffee—Irish coffee!—and go to the beach. Say mean things about men until you feel better.”
The thought of sunshine and caffeine was almost enough to make the world seem survivable, but I couldn’t do that to her. “That’s a wonderful idea for me. You have a wonderful new husband waiting for you, and I’m sure you didn’t come here to hear my mega pity party.”
“You’ve heard mine often enough. We’ve been through a lot together.”
I hugged her tightly. “We sure have. But now you have a new shoulder to lean on. Go. I’ll be fine. Really.”
“Love you, B.”
“Right back at you, Hols.”
I got to Tidal Hops right after it opened for lunch service.
It was too hot for Irish coffee, so Braden Coleridge made me an iced one without blinking an eye.
I only wallowed on the beach for a short while before I pulled myself out of it.
I owed Doris a goodbye. If I was going to leave Dove Key, I wanted to at least say goodbye to the only place that had ever felt like mine.
After a thorough shower to wash Dean completely out of my life, I strolled down Main Street. The flower baskets swayed in the gentle breeze, filling the air with their perfume. The humidity clung to my skin, a reminder of the weight I’d carried here and the heavier load I’d be hauling home.
The Corner Scoop sat at the corner of Main and Harbor, painted the color of lavender and old driftwood.
The bell over the door chimed, and the blast of frigid AC hit me like a small miracle.
Inside, the shop was empty except for a father bribing his toddler with sprinkles, and Doris behind the counter.
She caught sight of me, and her face broke into a smile that could stop traffic. “Well, if it isn’t the return of the prodigal scooper!”
I tried to smile, but my face barely cooperated. “Hi, Doris. Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
She enveloped me in a hug that threatened to suffocate me. It felt wonderful. “You always were a considerate one.” When she let go, she kept a grip on my shoulders, giving me the once-over. Her eyes searched my face, picking up on every fracture line. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Rough visit,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow and jerked her chin toward the back. “C’mon. Sit. I’ll get us coffee after I shoo out those two customers and lock the door.”