Chapter 2
I wake up the next morning feeling like I’ve been emotionally steamrolled. And my day only gets worse from there.
Not only did I oversleep, but I barely manage to brush my hair before Charlie asks if I can hold Sam Jr while she grabs a quick shower.
Of course I say yes. I’m not a monster. But five minutes in, the kid lets out a tiny burp and then projectile spits up all over my shirt.
I blink at him, stunned. He blinks back, perfectly unbothered.
By the time I’m handing him back—still sticky, still smelling vaguely of sour milk—I slam my toe against one of Sam’s boots left near the doorway and let out a strangled noise that might’ve been a curse or a cry. Who knows. Everything hurts.
Charlie takes one look at me and her face softens.
“Phern, I’m so sorry. Sam Jr’s still having tummy issues.”
“It’s not your fault, Charlie.” I wave it off, even as I scrub at the wet spot on my shirt. “Heck, it’s not even baby Sam’s fault. It’s just one of those days.”
She hesitates. “Maybe you should go into town. Take a little time for yourself?”
Town. Right. Where Will is. With his flannel and his easy smirks and his deeply unromantic kiddo comments.
I shake my head.
“I think I’ll head out to the barn,” I say. “There’s always something that needs mucking out.”
And if that includes my own feelings, all the better.
I stay out in the barn until my stomach starts to grumble and the sun has shifted low enough to make me feel like I’ve earned a break. I brush off the hay, wipe my hands on my jeans, and finally head back inside.
I don’t even make it three steps into the kitchen before I freeze and then groan.
Sam has Charlie bent over the counter, both of their jeans around their ankles like it’s amateur hour in a low-budget porno. Charlie’s head tips toward the doorway, and the second our eyes meet, hers go wide in horror. Probably mirroring the horror on my own face.
“Sam,” Charlie breathes, panic in her voice.
“That’s right, darlin’. Take it all,” Sam grunts like some absolute caveman.
“For the love of God!” I practically screech. “You two have a bedroom. Freaking use it!”
I don’t wait for a reply. I spin on my heel and haul ass down the hall, stomping into my room and slamming the door behind me. Tears are already spilling down my cheeks, hot and humiliated and ridiculous.
Then, like the universe just wants to twist the knife, I hear Sam Jr start wailing in the other room. And just like that, I feel like an even bigger asshole.
I have to get out of this house.
That’s the only solution.
Grabbing my phone, I open the browser and start searching flights. My fingers fly across the screen, booking the first one that makes sense. I don’t stop. I can’t stop because if I do, I’ll talk myself out of it. I’ll justify staying. I’ll pretend I’m fine.
And I’m not.
I don’t just need out of the house. I need out of this town. Maybe even the whole damn state. I think of Will, and the weight of everything unsaid between us, and suddenly Kansas sounds like salvation.
Once everything’s booked, I pack my suitcase quickly. Like if I move fast enough, the ache won’t catch up.
When I step into the living room, Sam is there, gently rocking Sam Jr in his arms. His face softens when he sees me.
“I’m sorry—” we both say at the same time.
I shake my head. “It’s your house, Sam. You should be able to do whatever you want.”
He looks at me like I just cracked something in him. “It’s your house too, Phern.”
But it’s not. Not really. Not since our parents died without updating the will. No, according to the law, this all belongs to Sam and I’m just a late-in-life afterthought.
I swallow hard and say, “I’m going to visit Olive in Kansas for a while. When I get back I think it’s best if I start looking for a place.”
His lips part, like he wants to argue, but I hold up a hand.
“I need to do this, Sam.” I offer a small, tired smile. “Besides, how else am I going to force myself to actually use my college degree?”
He nods, but there’s worry in his eyes. And maybe something else—grief, guilt, and the understanding that this isn’t just a trip. It’s me letting go.
“Text me when you get there,” Sam says, bouncing Sam Jr gently in his arms.
“I will.”
I offer a small smile then turn and step outside. The morning air is warm, the kind of Wyoming spring day that makes you believe things might get better.
After tossing my bag into the back of my truck, I climb in, roll the windows down, and take off. The tires crunch against the gravel drive as I pull away from the house that used to feel like home.
The drive takes me down Main Street, right through the heart of Broken Heart Creek. God, I love this little town. I have loved it. Every weather-worn corner. Every crooked sign. Every memory stitched into its sidewalks.
But it doesn’t feel like there’s a place for me here anymore.
Not really.
Not when everything I want seems wrapped in what I can’t have.
I tell myself not to look when I pass Will’s bar.
I try. I fail.
He’s standing out front, leaning against the rail, arms crossed. When he sees me, he lifts a hand in a slow wave.
I smile.
And then I press the gas just a little harder.
The wind tangles in my hair. The sun warms my face. And Broken Heart Creek fades into the dust behind me.
Olive sounds shocked as hell when I call her, asking if she can pick me up in Wichita. It was risky not warning her I was coming, but I had a feeling she might be in the same emotional state as Liam. Barely hanging on.
After grabbing my suitcase from baggage claim, I head outside to wait.
The moment I spot her light brown hair bobbing toward me in the crowd, my chest tightens and just like that, the tears come. Not soft, graceful ones either. Full-on sobs the second she wraps her arms around me.
I’ve missed my friend more than I even realized.
Olive whispers against my shoulder, “You’re really here.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice cracking. “I’m really here.”
We pull back and I study her. She looks different. There’s something about her glow that isn’t just from seeing me. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to find the right words.
“Olive please don’t take this the wrong way, but are you pregnant? Because your stomach feels a lot like Charlie’s did.”
She blinks. “Liam didn’t tell you?”
Suddenly, everything makes sense. The missing piece that clicked the whole picture into place. How I kept expecting her at Liam’s side during Sam’s wedding, and instead he showed up alone, looking like he’d lost the moon and refused to admit it.
“That freaking idiot!” I explode. “You told him, and he still let you go?”
Olive nods, rubbing the swell of her belly. “It was terrible. He asked for proof, Phern.”
I stop in my tracks. “He what?”
She flinches a little at my volume, but I’m already shaking my head.
“Oh, I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, Olive, I will wring his neck, and I’ll do it with a smile.”
Olive laughs, even though her eyes are glassy. “Come on. My mom’s dying to see the newest ultrasound pics. I’ll catch you up on everything on the drive.”
And she does. She starts from the moment she boarded the plane to Broken Heart Creek and unspools the whole messy story, word by word. With every detail, my urge to call Liam and verbally light him on fire grows stronger.
But I know that won’t help anything.
So instead, I tell her the truth.
“He’s not doing any better,” I say gently. “I don’t know if you want to hear this, but he’s looking rough, Olive. He’s been at Will’s bar almost every night.”
Her eyes widen. “Will opened a bar?”
Right. That happened after she left.
“He did. Called it Flowers End. Opened right after Sam and Charlie’s wedding. It’s doing well, too, especially since Buck and Sherry finally split and Sherry turned Knot and Spur into a boutique.”
I give Olive more of the updates as we drive, but I know it’s not really what she wants to hear. Not the businesses. Not the baby showers. Not the bar names.
Her voice comes quiet, hesitant. “Is he seeing anyone?”
I shake my head. “No. He made a whole show at Sam’s wedding, pretending to be into Charlie’s friend Tish. But it was just that—a show. We all saw through it. Poor girl didn’t even realize she was being used as a shield.”
Olive sighs, her shoulders curling inward. “It’s only a matter of time before he moves on.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But you haven’t seen him, Olive. That man is devastated. He walks around like his boots are full of lead. Barely speaks. He’s heartbroken, even if he’s too stubborn to do anything about it.”
The rest of the drive is quiet after that. Heavy with everything said and everything left unsaid.
When we pull into Olive’s parents’ place, I’m swept into warmth and chaos. Her mom throws open the front door, eyes lighting up with joy as she gushes over ultrasound photos. A little while later, her dad arrives.
And that’s what hits me hardest.
Not because I’m not happy for Olive.
But because it’s something I’ll never have.
My mom died when I was born. My dad passed away while I was in college. Both gone too soon, leaving behind holes too big to fill.
I’m still thinking about it when Olive’s mom suggests we go freshen up before dinner.
Olive leads me down the hall, stopping at a door.
“I should warn you,” she says, hand on the knob. “This room is frozen in time.”
I snort as I step inside. “Wow. One Direction. Why am I not surprised?”
Olive huffs, “That was Opal’s side of the room.”
I grin and point. “Not gonna mention there’s a One Direction poster over there, too?”
She rolls her eyes, laughing, and I cross the room to sit on the edge of Opal’s old bed. The air shifts like we’ve stepped into a memory made of soft light and echoes.
Opal was Olive’s twin. She died from cancer when they were eighteen. I know Olive misses her, especially now.
“This feels like you,” I say softly. “And her.”
“It was us. For a long time, it was everything.”
“It still is.” I smooth a hand over the faded quilt. “She had good taste.”