Chapter 3
Emma
Two Weeks Later
Dread sat on my shoulders like the weight of the calf I once tried to pick up when he—AKA my ex-best friend—dared me to as a kid. All my muscles spasmed and tensed, my stomach roiling.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that please?” I asked my boss, Mr. Puny.
His last name was ironic considering he was a short man with a bald head who very much emulated the word puny. I forced myself to ignore the way the fluorescent lights in the office glared off his shiny head as I tried to make sense of the words he had just uttered.
Emotionless eyes behind thick glasses attached to a long, narrow face blinked at me several times before he sighed, his own shoulders rising and falling dramatically. The back of my neck ached from looking down at him.
“I said, this isn’t going to work out, Emma. Due to budget cuts, we’re terminating all paid internships for the remainder of the year. I’m sorry.” The bored way he continued to blink at me told me he wasn’t actually very sorry at all.
“But—”
“I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth to protest, hoping there was something I could do to change his mind, but nothing would come out.
No no no.
I had fought so hard for this internship, beating out thirty other candidates. Never mind the fact that this was my sole source of income and I had recently taken out a loan to buy my own storm chasing equipment and a truck. I had wanted to prove to the Midwest Storm Research Center that I was dependable and serious about this internship, and I thought if I came with my own gear, it might put me ahead of everyone else, and make me more appealing to them.
And it must have, since I had gotten the coveted spot.
I just never imagined I’d then lose the internship.
I tried again. “Is there anything—”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his tone firm. A drop of spit sat on his bottom lip, and I suppressed a shudder.
“The decision has been made. I’ve been asked to help you gather your personal effects and escort you from the building.”
“Now?” I squeaked. Hold on, I need to breathe. I can’t lose this.
Mr. Puny gave a single nod of his shiny head, still blinking slowly as if I was boring him to death.
“I—”
He swung his arm in a dramatic gesture toward my tiny desk tucked into the corner next to the trash can and coffee maker. The walls spun around me as I put one foot in front of the other, each of my legs trembling. My hands shook as I took the small box Mr. Puny offered and began packing my minuscule number of things into it.
My top-of-the-line laptop—which I had bought with the loan—a small succulent that said “little friend” on the pot that I was pretty sure was dead despite my best attempts at keeping it alive, and a notepad that said “Emma Beck” on the bottom of every page, which was a gift from my mom when I started college. I snatched the power cord from beneath the desk and threw it in the box, then stared at the empty, wooden surface. The scent of burnt coffee filtered into my nose.
That was it. There was no longer any sign that this slim piece of wood on too-thin legs was ever mine, no sign that I’d ever earned an internship with the Midwest Storm Research Center.
Now I was jobless.
And broke.
With a giant equipment loan the size of Texas.
I felt numb as I carried my box through the long hallway, past two conference rooms filled with giant TVs, and down to the entrance. Mr. Puny was two steps ahead of me, shoving open the front door as if he couldn’t wait for me to be gone.
“Best of luck, Miss Beck,” he offered through a sigh as I stepped outside into the sweltering June heat. I squinted at the sudden bright light.
Before I could even say thank you, or goodbye, the door snicked shut. The lock clicking behind me echoed in my now-empty heart.
My feet glued themselves to the dilapidated carpet outside the apartment I shared with my roommate, Denise. After graduation a couple weeks ago, I had been scrambling to find a place to live and this had been my only option on such short notice, especially when Meridel proved to no longer be an option. I had wanted to move back home while I got everything set up to start chasing, but then I ran into him at Maya and Oliver’s wedding.
I moved back to Meridel.
His words flitted through my mind again, eliciting a shiver. I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory of turning my back on him, refusing to accept what he had said. Within minutes of that conversation, I had been in my car driving back to the city, sending a text to my cousin that I wasn’t feeling well and had to leave her wedding reception early. It had felt icky, but I needed to get out of there. I couldn’t be around him.
Meridel wasn’t an option anymore, not when he was there.
After he left for California, despite his many promises that we’d remain close and he’d visit when he could, things between us fell apart. First it was him having to cut phone calls short to go to some gig or talk with his manager, then he started forgetting about our scheduled calls altogether, and eventually he became a ghost. No video chats, no calls, and no texts. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
So, why was he back now? He was supposed to be chasing his dreams in California, becoming the next big country star, and the recent tabloids sure made it seem like he had achieved it. He was famous now, people were obsessed with his music, and he was doing the darn thing he always wanted.
Meridel had nothing to offer him, not when all his wildest dreams had come true.
Especially not now that he was labeled as Country Music’s Bad Boy.
I rolled my eyes at the thought. The Liam I knew would never have earned such a reputation. For a while I kept up with how he was doing, both out of curiosity and because I was a glutton for punishment. But after that first headline about Liam being a ladies’ man, and seeing his mouth on some strange woman’s, I stopped watching. I stopped waiting.
My heart couldn’t handle it.
Clearly, California had changed him.
I thought he was never coming back. I had resigned myself to that. I did my best to let go of the man who was both my best friend and the secret love of my life.
But then he showed up at the wedding, and he looked the same with those cowboy boots and T-shirt, and my heart ached at the sight of him. There was a chasm between us now, one that I wasn’t strong enough to cross.
Liam had cut down the rope bridge, and I couldn’t let him rebuild it. Not now.
My heart wouldn’t survive him leaving a second time.
Even if I desperately missed my best friend with such a deep agony that it stole my breath away, and I wished we could go back to the way things had been. But I had lost so much more than Liam knew when he left, and I wasn’t willing to open myself up to that kind of hurt again.
Swallowing the ache in my throat, I unlocked the door and dragged my feet across the threshold.
Denise, my roommate, with her dark hair and spray-tanned skin, sat on the couch smacking her gum and flipping through a magazine. The overwhelming scent of her Chanel N°5 perfume filled the space, and I tried not to gag. She was obsessed with the scent, and quite literally sprayed it all over the place.
I thought it smelled like an old lady on her death bed.
I was forced to keep a bag of coffee beans in the glove box of my truck just to clear my nose whenever I left the apartment.
“Hi, Denise,” I greeted, hanging my purse on the back of the door.
A grunt was her only response as she turned the page, not bothering to look up or fully acknowledge my existence.
I let out a silent sigh. I had hoped that Denise and I would hit it off, that she would replace the hole I had felt after graduation from not going home, being away from my mom and brother, and from my cousin, Maya, who was my closest friend. It had been so stressful trying to fit most of my credits into just a year and a half, and it made talking with any of them nearly impossible. I’d never felt so disconnected from my family.
I had been optimistic that Denise would fill the void, but if anything, she only made it bigger, and ache more. She made me realize how alone I was. She didn’t care about me, only the money I paid in rent. Any time I tried to talk to her in the past two weeks, she shoved a magazine in front of her face, refusing to engage in conversation with me.
Denise had made it obvious that she didn’t want anything to do with me.
That was fine. This wasn’t a home. This was simply where I slept.
Home was Meridel, even if I couldn’t go back there.
Shoving those depressing thoughts away, I went into the kitchen and filled a glass of water at the tap, draining it in a few gulps, wincing at the metallic taste of city water.
I miss the water at home.
I set the glass down with a loud clink. I wasn’t sure how Denise would react when I told her about losing my paid internship, but I was hoping she would be kind about it.
I took a breath. It was time to rip off the band aid. No beating around the bush.
“So…” I said, bracing for impact. “I lost my internship.”
A beat of silence.
Denise didn’t even look up from the magazine. “I guess you’re moving out then.”
I blinked. Surely, I had misheard her. There was no way someone could be so callous and heartless.
“Excuse me?”
Denise didn’t even have the courtesy to look me in the eye. “If you don’t have money to pay your half of the rent, then you can’t live here.” Her words were simple and yet they shook the foundation beneath me.
“I-I just need a little time, Denise. I’ll find another job.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is a highly sought-after apartment. I’m not waiting for you to find something else when I can find a roommate with money now.”
I fought the urge to snort. Highly sought-after? Hardly. It was a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a rougher area of the city. I didn’t even have my own room. I slept on the pull-out couch with my suitcase shoved in the corner. The only reason I lived with Denise was because the rent was low enough to fit my desperate situation.
She was honestly a terrible roommate, not having an ounce of empathy or compassion in her body. We weren’t roommates in the sense that we talked and spent time together or anything. No, we just lived our separate lives and shared the same space, hardly interacting unless rent was due, when she finally deigned to talk to me.
And now she was kicking me out.
“Denise—”
“I’d like you to leave as soon as possible, Emma.”
“But—”
“Today, Emma.” Denise finally lifted her gaze from her magazine, her brown eyes piercing my gut like daggers.
I couldn’t believe how awful she was being. I had just lost my internship, my sole source of income, and I barely took up any space in her apartment. I lived out of a small suitcase in the corner of the room for goodness’ sake. Was Denise’s heart nonexistent?
“Okay, fine,” I said, throwing my hands up. I stalked into the bathroom, grabbed my shampoo out of the shower and my toothbrush off the counter, and threw them into my purse—yes, my purse—and then zipped up my suitcase and rolled it to the door.
“There,” I spat at Denise, my anger at this horrid day breaking through my self-control. “It’s like I was never here.”
Denise didn’t even say goodbye as I ripped the key from my key ring, threw it on the counter, and left.