CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CASEY
The rolling garage door of the storage unit slides up, breaking the humid morning air.
It’s Tuesday, my second full day in Chicago.
The city is hot, with traffic noises filling the background of my attention.
But for once in this city, I’m not worried about when the L gets to my stop or whether it’s too cold or rainy or whatever to walk to work.
I’m here to organize my things for the moving truck and leave.
Once and for all.
“Coffee time!” My friend and former-future-roommate Becca reaches into the front seat of her sedan, pulling out two coffees she brought for us.
She can only help me for a couple hours before she has to go to work, but we wanted to squeeze in as much time together as we could before I return to Bayshore.
“You’re the best.” I grin at her as we tap our to-go cups together in a toast. Despite how good I feel about this hometown plot twist, there’s still a deep ache behind my smile.
Because the hero of my latest story has dipped out and declined to continue.
Sure, he texted me yesterday to ask if I arrived in Chicago, but I could see that for what it was. Just a decompression. A way for him to say “see, I care” while continuing with his life.
It’s going to take me probably a full year to recover from how hard I fell for that man.
If I’m lucky. Part of me worries I’ll never stop thinking of him.
I carried a torch for him for so long that coming back to Bayshore allowed it to turn into a blaze.
Now I have to focus on cooling off those embers.
I’ll be okay until next summer, I suppose, when he breezes back into town. But I won’t be “doing this all over again” with him then. Oh, no. If he can walk away from what we shared, he doesn’t get to have it on a part-time, at-will basis.
“You okay?” Becca nudges me. I’ve been frowning at a stack of boxes in the storage unit for a bit too long.
I sniff, looking around. “Yeah. Just stewing over Griffin again.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “Men. They’re great until they aren’t.”
“Yeah.” Sadness trickles though me again. I still struggle with accepting that Griffin isn’t the great man I believed him to be. He was great…until it came to choosing love. Choosing a shared future. Choosing me.
Becca sets her coffee down, cracking her knuckles. “You tell me what to focus on first. Consider me your storage unit mule.”
I snort. “That sounds like a new breed. Could you go through those boxes back there and figure out what’s in each of them and label them? I want to throw away stuff if it’s not absolutely required. I’m not sure how much space I’ll be working with in Bayshore.”
Becca weaves through the packed unit, heading for the boxes. “Do you have any idea where you’ll be living?”
“I’ve been on the hunt for an apartment,” I tell her. “I’ll be checking out a few places when I get back later this week.”
“And who will you stay with until then?”
My heart hurts as I think back on the house I just moved out of. “I have a plethora of options, luckily. My sister Claire offered me her spare room until I get on my feet. Plus my friends Roxie and Sara both have spare rooms they said I could use. I always have my parents, too, in a pinch.”
“Gosh, you’re lucky. Way better than the couch you’re staying on right now in my living room,” Becca says with a snort.
“Hey, I appreciate that couch.”
“Yeah, though you almost had an entire bedroom,” she says wistfully. “It’s okay. I support your move back to your cute little hometown. This will give me an excuse to come check out Bayshore sometime soon.”
“Consider it part of a Great Lakes tour.” My phone vibrates from the arm rest of an overstuffed chair. I snatch it up. It’s Claire.
“Hey,” I answer brightly. “I was just talking about you and your sweet offer to let me stay in your spare room.”
“How’s it going? Packing everything up?”
Claire and I have been chatting like this more frequently. It still feels odd, but I really like it.
“Yeah. Becca and I just cracked into the storage unit,” I tell her, flipping the tassel of a vintage velvet lampshade near me.
I got that thing for five dollars at a thrift store in Andersonville, and I’ll probably be buried with it.
“I’m going to figure out what I can toss and what I plan to relocate to a new storage unit in Bayshore. ”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” Claire says. “Let me send you some breakfast to help get the job done. Text me your address, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Wow. Thanks, Claire. That’s so sweet of you. Yeah, I’ll send that over.”
“And when you get back, can we please go to Cloud Nine? If you don’t visit Piper’s place soon there will be consequences. I don’t know what kind, but it needs to happen!”
“All right, we’ll go. But aren’t you supposed to be going on your honeymoon soon?”
“Yeah, we leave tomorrow. We’ll go to Cloud Nine when I get back. Put it on your calendar!”
“I promise I will.” I smile, ending the call and swiping to my messages. To Becca, I say, “Claire is going to send us breakfast! Isn’t that sweet?”
“You two really turned things around,” Becca says, head buried in a box.
“Yeah. A lot of things turned around, in fact.” Except for one notable thing, which was perhaps poised to be the greatest addition to my life. I swallow another wave of sadness, determined not to let Griffin Grief overwhelm me. “It’s nice to have a sister I talk to.”
I send her the address of the storage unit just as a message from Piper arrives, asking how moving is going, if I’m in Chicago, where I am exactly.
CASEY: I’m slowly working through my things! Excited to get all this moved back to Bayshore later this week.
PIPER: Do you need anything? Can I send you something? Let me send you some coffee. On me.
I furrow my brow. What are the odds that both Claire and Piper would insist on delivering something to me this morning?
CASEY: I’m always down for more coffee.
I send her my address then put the phone down.
“Okay, I’m done texting. But thanks to my sister and my friend Piper, we have both breakfast and more coffee en route. I’m just waiting for someone else to text and offer to send lunch.”
“Maybe someone will offer to send a mover’s assistant,” Becca cracks, tugging off the lid of a plastic tote. “Or better yet, a hot date. Then we can combine moving assistance and hot guy in one, without all the ghosting of online dating apps.”
“That’s pretty niche,” I say with a laugh. “I’d settle for someone sending trash bags, but I won’t complain if a hot guy shows up instead.”
We work for a while, making our way through about a quarter of the storage unit, dividing things into two halves: Keep or Toss.
I’m looking to rebuild in Bayshore, so I’m ready to part with a lot of things that represent the previous chapter.
But some things I can keep using or will never part with—like my hideous blob-shaped chaise longue, and the teal velvet lampshade.
“Maybe you should start dating,” Becca says after a while. “It’ll take your mind off Griffin.”
“And join one of the apps where men ghost me? No thanks.”
“Distractions can be fun,” she says with a grin.
I sigh, shaking my head. “I had my fill of fun. All I can be is heartbroken now.” Becca starts to protest, so I hurry to add, “It’s okay. I can still build the life of my dreams with a broken heart. I just know I’m not going to be getting over that man anytime soon.”
My phone buzzes with simultaneous texts from Piper and Claire that the delivery is arriving soon. When I mention it to Becca, she says,
“I’ll grab them. I need to get out of this musty corner for a minute anyway.”
I continue sorting while she weaves her way out of the storage unit.
Outside, she stretches and smiles up into the sun.
It’s starting to get hot in here; luckily, I have a tower fan among my items in storage.
Becca’s feet crunch over the gravel of the alley outside the unit as she wanders outside. Then she gasps.
“Did someone really order us a hot guy?” She sounds excited.
“No, I don’t think Piper or Claire are on those types of apps,” I reply.
“Oh my god, he’s the delivery guy,” Becca says in a hushed voice. She straightens, smoothing the front of her shirt. She even clears her throat.
“He can’t be that hot,” I mutter, but she doesn’t hear me. A moment later, I hear her voice pitched higher than normal.
“Why hello there,” she gushes. I don’t hear the response of the delivery guy—I’m busy figuring out if I want this random box of white plates that I forgot my mom had gifted me five years ago—but I sure do catch when Becca adds, “Oh. Casey? Do you know her?”
I perk up, confused by what I’m hearing. I’m partly worried Jake has somehow sussed out that I’m in town and decided to pay me a surprise visit. I never responded to his texts or calls over the summer, after all.
But when I look outside, I see something that makes way less sense than Jake showing up.
My brows nearly touch each other as I struggle to understand the sight of this tall, handsome, broad-shouldered, dark-haired hockey player.
Here. In Chicago. Of all places.
“Griffin?!” I can’t keep the shock out of my voice, even though I’d like to be more blasé about the whole thing.
Becca’s eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth. “Oh my god, you’re Griffin?”
“Hey. Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Griffin Keegan.” He holds out a hand and she shakes it, stunned.
“I didn’t realize you had a side gig doing deliveries in Chicago,” Becca stammers.
“I don’t, unless there’s an emergency,” Griffin says, raking a hand through his hair. His gaze is stuck on me, and I see the evidence of sleeplessness and despair. “Casey, can we talk?”
I blink a few times. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” he says, then gestures toward the to-go bags he placed on a table near the front. “And I dropped off these things too, but that’s not why I came.”