Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHLOE
My head feels as if it’s being smashed by a steamroller.
I peel my eyes open, meeting a ball of white fluff and a pair of angry blue eyes.
“Good morning, Sebastian,” I croak, my throat so dry it’s like I swallowed a bunch of his fur when I passed out. What have I done to myself?
Memories from last night come rolling back in waves. Steve being an entitled asshole. Ethan leaving the bar before I could tell him how I really feel.
Some might take that as a sign that he’s done with me, but I have more faith in him—in us—to go down that rabbit hole.
We can hash things out this morning, figure out what we want from whatever this is.
Even if I have to open Mugs late, it doesn’t matter. I’m going straight to Ethan’s house to see if he’s open to a long-distance relationship for at least a little while. Maybe that’s putting off the inevitable… Or maybe it’s investing in something that’ll last.
One thing is for certain: it’ll give us time to learn everything there is to know about each other. Time to grow closer.
I bet he has a sexy phone voice.
I’ll never know if I don’t get my ass off this couch.
Slowly, I ease upright and the whole room tilts. Once it steadies, I spy the reusable water bottle that my dear, sweet friend left on the coffee table. Willow really is a lifesaver.
I screw off the lid and make a face when lukewarm water slides down my throat.
Not exactly the crisp and refreshing beverage I was hoping for.
What time is it?
Despite Willow’s countless knickknacks, there isn’t a single clock in her living room. I scour the place for my purse, eventually spotting it beside her giant mosaic toad.
“How did my purse get over there?”
Sebastian just blinks and turns away, resting his head on his paws, bored with me already.
Pushing to my feet, I stretch my stiff muscles, my entire body protesting over being forced to sleep on a couch instead of a nice, comfy bed. My poor clothes are coated in white fur. How is there so much? Did the cat sleep on top of me?
I love Sebastian when he’s in a good mood, but his tendency to shed is the worst.
I grab my purse and pull out my phone.
Dead. Great.
Since dear Willow doesn’t believe in smartphones, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a proper charger anywhere in her house. Tiptoeing to the kitchen to keep from waking her, I drag a glass down from the cupboard to fill from the sink.
My eyes catch on the clock above the stove.
Oh my God—does that say 10:30?
No, that can’t be right. I never sleep this late. Never.
Oh, shit. If it really is 10:30, I’m four-and-a-half hours late for work.
My plan to see Ethan before I go in flies right out the window. It’s one thing to be a few minutes late, but another entirely to shut up shop for the day without prior notice. My barnacles must be panicking.
I stumble into the bathroom to pee and check the state of myself. Between the smudged eyeliner that makes it look like I have two shiners, and enough cat hair to knit a freaking sweater, I look even worse than I feel.
“Willow?” I venture through the maze of her house, searching for any sign of my friend. She isn’t in her room or her workshop.
Panic twists through me until I find a note taped to the front door.
Breathe, Chloe.
I press my hand to my chest. Willow said she would open the cafe for me.
Everything is fine.
Hopefully. There’s no way of knowing for sure with a dead phone.
I force myself to take another deep breath.
What matters is that Mugs has probably been taken care of.
This gives me time to sort myself out.
As much as I want to see Ethan, I can’t go anywhere looking like this and I don’t even have a car.
I’ll take a quick shower, throw on some of Willow’s clothes, and then take her bike over to Mugs. That’ll give me a chance to check in with her, make sure everything is okay, and go straight to Ethan’s.
Simple. Efficient. A solid plan.
Everything is going to be fine.
It’s decided: Willow is a saint. Not only do all the customers in the cafe have their orders, but Mrs. Nelson and Tilly are also laughing in the back, like all is well in the world.
When Willow sees me step up to the counter, her eyes brighten, and she hurries to pour me a mug of fresh coffee.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” I say, cradling the mug to my chest, breathing in the life-giving aroma.
Her breathy laugh is a balm to my hungover soul. “I’ve got you, girl.”
“Thank you so much. I owe you.” I take a fortifying sip, hoping it’s enough to keep me steady for my conversation with Ethan.
Willow leans a little closer, dropping her voice so the barnacles won’t overhear. “Have you decided what to do about you-know-who?”
I nod. “Sure did. And if you don’t mind holding down the fort a little longer, I’m going to go straight over there.”
Her whole face lights up. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”
The door chimes and my mother saunters in, her beau, Beau, on her arm.
Willow shoos me away, saying she’s got it handled. I make a mental note to buy her something nice as I duck into the office to grab my keys. With a quick hello to Mrs. Nelson, I sneak out the back door, but before I can slip into my car, someone calls my name.
Mr. Beeman from the hardware store jogs over, his Crocs flapping against his feet.
At least it’s not my mother or Beau. “Hey, Mr. Beeman. I was just on my way out. Did you need something?”
“This’ll only take a moment,” he gasps, beads of sweat tumbling off what’s left of his hair. “I was just on my way in to speak to you about the invoice.”
“What invoice?”
He nods toward the half-finished pergola. I’d been in such a rush that I hadn’t even realized Rick wasn’t here yet.
“The one for the lumber and concrete,” Mr. Beeman explains. “Rick said he’d be back with the cash, but we haven’t seen him since.”
That doesn’t make any sense. I gave my dad the money to pay for the supplies. “I’m so sorry for the delay. Do you know how much I owe you?”
From his back pocket, he withdraws a folded-up piece of paper. The total at the bottom is the exact amount I gave Rick.
“I’ll be over right after work and make sure this gets paid,” I say. “Is that okay?”
“That’s just fine with me.”
“Thanks, Mr. Beeman.” I smile through my frustration, an uneasy feeling taking root in my stomach.
I hurry to my car and plug my phone into the charger. The five-minute drive home feels like an hour, and by the time I pull into my empty driveway, I already know Rick is gone.
A quick look around my house confirms it: his clothes, his shoes, and his shaving kit are all missing.
I turn and stare at my reflection in the window in disbelief.
He took my money.
He took five thousand dollars from me and skipped town.
I barely have enough savings left to cover the invoice, let alone finish the project.
I should’ve known better than to let him take on the job.
I knew better, and I let him do it anyway.
I press my fists to my eyes.
Dammit, Rick.
Maybe the bank will give me a loan.
I run back out to my car, climb inside, and grab my phone. The battery in the corner flashes when I turn on the screen.
There’s a message, but it’s not from Rick.
It’s from Ethan… There are two messages.
I quickly scan them both. He wanted to see me last night. Then he came over to say goodbye this morning, but I wasn’t home. So he took Kat to a shelter and caught the first ferry off the island.
My stomach drops.
I can’t believe it. Ethan is gone too.
I knew he was leaving, but I didn’t think he’d go without a proper goodbye.
Oh, why did I have to stay out with Steve? I should’ve left the moment Ethan did, but I didn’t, and now I can’t breathe.
I tap on his name and wait for the call to connect. Each unanswered ring leaves me sinking lower, curling into the driver’s seat. He’s probably just driving. Maybe he has bad reception.
Or maybe he didn’t care for you as much as you cared for him.
That’s not true.
What we had was special. It was.
A robotic voice comes through the line. “The number you have dialed cannot be reached at the moment. Leave a voicemail after the tone.”
BEEP.
“Hey Ethan, it’s Chloe.” What am I saying? He has my number; of course he knows it’s me. “I was really hoping to… to talk to you before you left, but I fell asleep at Willow’s and didn’t get here in time. Anyway… I miss you already. Call me back?”
I end the call, even though there’s so much left to say. Ethan deserves more than a half-assed confession on a voicemail. All the words bubbling inside me are going to have to wait until I have him on the other side of the line.
He’ll see the missed call, listen to the voicemail, and get back to me as soon as he can.
I’ve been an optimist my entire life. I will not let one shitty day take away my hope.
Call me back. Please.
I read his messages again, analyzing every word.
If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have come over to say goodbye. See! I knew he cared.
When I get to the part about Kat in a shelter…
It hadn’t even registered the first time I read it.
Poor, sweet little kitten.
What if no one adopts her? What if she’s all alone in a cage, scared and depressed?
I don’t want her to be on her own.
Maybe we could start a “Missing Ethan Davis” support group.
I slam my door closed and turn the key in the ignition, but nothing happens. I try again and again and again, but my damn car has given up on me too, which leaves me pedaling like a madwoman down the road on my bike.
Please, let Kat be there. Please.
Ten minutes later, I’m shoving through a pair of glass doors. A young woman glances up from behind the front desk, her brows lifting with surprise.