33. Connor
CONNOR
“Yo, Mr. Majors, you think Miss James is gonna come back?” Simon asks over the quiet typing of his classmates. “She didn’t, uh, she didn’t even tell us goodbye.”
Simon, loud, wild, strong Simon, looks like a kid again, eyes full of an innocent hope that I wish I didn’t have to squash.
Delaney’s sudden departure didn’t only hurt me.
The choir kids were heartbroken as well.
The whole school had grown attached to her presence.
She was always singing in the hallways and greeting the kids by name.
When Mrs. Crane didn’t need her, she’d bring all of us teachers coffee from the fancy machine she bought for the lounge, and I know she snuck extra treats to her choir girls, too.
She was such a bright light, yet somehow could never see her own glow. The eye of a tornado who didn’t realize the power that swirls around her. And her storm touched down in our little town and absolutely wrecked all of us.
“Don’t think so, Simon,” I say, doing all I can to keep the heartbreak out of my voice.
“What happened between y’all?” Simon asks. “Did she dump you?”
A few more heads pop up, abandoning their essays in favor of juicy drama.
“None of your business,” I snap. “Fifteen minutes until the bell. Let's keep it silent until then and get these essays done, okay?”
He retreats, along with the rest of the class, behind their laptops. I ought to get up and walk between their desks, make sure they’re actually working on their essays. But the heaviness in my chest has me glued behind my desk.
I think I broke my own heart.
I got my hopes up. After she performed our song, I assumed she’d call. It’s been a week since The Valley and I haven’t heard a damn thing.
“Hey,” Caroline says in a loud whisper, popping her head through my classroom door. “Come out here for a sec.”
I throw a death glare at the class, silently daring them to talk, and slip out the door.
“What’s up?” I grumble.
“Crane wants to know if you’ve heard from her.”
Her.
We can’t even speak Delaney’s name now.
“Nope. And I doubt I will. By the looks of things, she’s not coming back. Tell Crane that.”
“Looks of things?” Caroline questions.
“Her Instagram stories. Seems like she’s pretty settled out in L.A.”
Caroline’s jaw drops. “Connor. Rule number one of a breakup, don’t check socials.”
I shrug. “Don’t know if this counts as a breakup. Don’t know if we were ever really together.”
Caroline rolls her eyes. “Okay, damn, Mr. Dark and Twisty. You’ve been spending too much time with Wells. Come out with me to Eddy’s tonight. You need a girl’s night.”
I grunt, then catch myself.
I really do sound like Wells.
“Yeah, okay. Thank you. Sorry,” I let out a shaky breath. “It’s just been a lot harder to lose her a second time.”
Caroline smiles a sad smile and gives my arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Connor.”
And I know she means it.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I try to let myself catch some of the student’s energy, or at the very least, keep my sour mood from dampening theirs.
This is what I love about Ridgecrest. Our school is small enough to feel like a family.
There’s always been an air of fun, like nothing is that serious.
Our seniors aren’t too cool, and the freshmen have a confidence that I’m jealous of.
It’s this intangible magic that tethers me here.
Even Mrs. Rutledge, with all her diatribes and monologues, is about as good of a boss as they come.
How could I leave this?
My dad doesn’t understand. He might not say it, but I know he sees my job at Ridgecrest High as a distraction from the more important work at the orchard. In his mind, teaching is impactful, borderline noble, but keeping the family dream alive is legacy work.
And Delaney clearly doesn’t understand the draw to stay at Ridgecrest either.
Tonight, Eddy’s is a shit hole.
The floor is sticky, the music sucks, and the fries are suffering from a bad case of freezer burn. Caroline isn’t here yet, Vic is late for her shift, and the current bartender on duty, a trendy-looking guy barely out of his teens named Franklin, keeps walking by me without taking my order.
Eddy’s is a shit hole and the universe is out to get me.
Either that, or everything sucks a little without Delaney.
I’m about to throw in the towel in favor of wallowing alone at home when Caroline slides onto the barstool beside me.
Franklin makes a beeline in our direction, suddenly very eager to serve my little corner of the bar.
“Caroline, gotta tell ya, I don’t think Eddy’s is the place for me tonight. The food is shit, the music is shit, and up until you and your feminine energy walked in, the service was shit too.”
She pats my hand dismissively, ordering us both a round of beers from our oh-so-friendly barkeep, who can hardly keep his tongue in his mouth from drooling so much over her. She laughs at the corny joke he throws her way, and I swear I see Franklin grow an inch taller from the ego boost.
Finally, Caroline faces me.
“Okay. Here’s the deal. We’re gonna get tipsy, you’re gonna tell me everything that went down with you and Delaney, you’re probably gonna cry. Vic will bring us fresh fries, we’ll eat our feelings, and then everything will feel a little less shitty.”
She says with a flourish, like a magician revealing their grand finale.
I roll my eyes, but a reluctant laugh escapes me. “You’ve got it down to a science, huh?”
She beams over at me. “It’s a tried-and-true formula.”
Franklin reappears faster than humanly possible, two beers in hand. Before he can go in for the kill and ask Caroline for her number, Vic hip-checks him out of the way.
“So the whole thing was fake? Or fake, then real, then fake again?” Vic expertly quarters a lime, dropping them down the necks of our bottles without taking her eyes off mine. “Or,” she says, pointing her paring knife at me, “it was real the whole time.”
I squirm a little in my seat, both from her astute realization and from the knife still pointed my way.
“It was always real for me, at least. And I thought…” I spin my bottle on its edge. “I thought Delaney felt the same way, but obviously I was wrong.”
Caroline shakes her head, taking in a hearty gulp of her drink.
“I don’t know, Connor. I watched clips from The Valley. That new song? Those lyrics seemed pretty clear to me.”
Vic nods emphatically.
“I watched it too. A couple times. I knew Delaney could sing, but damn. Just her and a guitar? Unreal. And I agree with Caroline, she was really sayin’ something. But hell, what do I know? I’m just your friendly neighborhood perpetually single bartender.”
Vic shrugs as she heads off to take care of other patrons.
“She wrote it here,” I mumble, eyes locked on a crack in the bar top. “When we were still together. So yeah, maybe it was real, for a moment. But not real enough to make her stay. Not real enough to actually mean something.”
The last sentence catches in my throat and I suddenly feel like I’m on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry, Connor,” Caroline says quietly. “I know you really love her. And I guess it’s neither here nor there whether the love you shared was under false pretenses or not, because at the end of the day, you’re here and she’s not. And that sucks.”
Caroline meets my gaze, and there’s so much tenderness there. Delaney might always have a piece of my heart, but Ridgecrest does, too. My roots here are too deep to ignore. This town, for better or for worse, will always be my home.
“Thank you, Caroline. I’m lucky to have you.”
I pull her in for an awkward hug, both of us perching on the edge of our barstools.
I am lucky. A little worse for wear, and a lot more heartbroken than I’d care to admit, but lucky nonetheless.
“And now that we’ve covered the feelings portion of the night, we can focus on getting absolutely wasted.”
Caroline knocks her nearly empty bottle into mine, and Franklin appears, ready to replenish our drinks.
And that’s exactly what we do.
By the time Vic puts us both in an Uber, the music is impeccable, Delaney is a distant memory, and the floor isn’t sticky at all.