Chapter 6
“I’m doomed,” I said into the phone. I was wandering down the grocery store aisles, elbows braced on the cart handle, with my phone squished between my ear and shoulder.
“You’re not doomed,” Emily said. “It was just one job interview. I’m sure there will be more.”
“I’m telling you,” I insisted. “There are so few jobs here. I should’ve picked a different place. Mason has a safe house in Iowa. I wonder if that would’ve been better.”
“Ugh,” Emily said, and I could picture her shuddering on the other end of the line. “Trust me, you do not want to go to Iowa. Too much corn.”
I sighed. “I think I romanticized the whole ‘run away to the mountains, escape the clinic, and write my book’ thing. I’m honestly about ready to give up.”
“And go back to the clinic? Hope, you just left. And you and I both know that wouldn’t be good for your health.”
“I’m fine. I haven’t had a panic attack in a few days.
Maybe I’m cured.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a complete and utter lie.
Leaving my old environment had helped, but I felt like a ticking time bomb.
I could feel it—my anxiety—lingering beneath the surface, waiting to be triggered.
“Your mind is still healing from everything that happened. It’s barely been three months since the incident with Dr. Pike. That’s not enough time to just get over it. What happens when something similar comes up or stirs the same feelings?”
“I don’t know—” I’d reached the ramen aisle and paused to evaluate the limited selection of packaged noodles. The grocery store was more like a mini-mart, and finding what I needed was proving difficult.
“You have to let yourself heal.”
I sighed, tossing ramen packets into my cart. It would all taste the same anyway.
“I’m trying.”
“Have you thought about going to see someone again?”
“I haven’t tried therapy again after that one time.
” I still remembered the one meeting I’d had with a therapist back in Riverside.
Dr. Robinson had only succeeded in sending my anxiety into a deeper tailspin.
She’d made me talk about what had happened on the first visit, and I thought maybe it was too soon because it had only made things worse.
“Maybe seeing a different therapist would help—”
“I’m not ready for that yet,” I said, hating that I was cutting off my friend and being so quick to shut her down, but I really didn’t want to be pushed in this area.
My symptoms were gone for a few days. I was holding onto the idea that maybe my mind had worked things out on its own now that I’d gotten away from Riverside.
“Well, you’ll get past this, with or without a therapist. I know you will. You’ll find a job, and more importantly, you’ll find one you love. And you’ll realize that not everyone in this world is out to hurt you.”
“Yeah, I’ve already found a job where no one can hurt me: writing.”
“You’re not just a writer, Hope Elmswood. There’s so much more to you than that. Writing isn’t the only thing you can do.”
“Writing is the only thing that feels safe,” I said, pushing my cart toward the register.
“Because no one can hurt you when it’s just you and a bunch of words on paper. But I refuse to let you become a recluse living in an abandoned cabin, reading and talking to fictional characters all day.”
I huffed. “You make me sound crazy… and miserable.”
“Hope, you were happier before you went off to that stupid college and started working for your dad and his stupid associate. You were bright and not afraid of anything. I want you to find that again.”
“Well, until I do, I’ll be here eating ramen on my couch.”
“You’ll find a new job,” Emily said. “Don’t give up yet. And please, let me send you some money. You can’t just eat ramen.”
“We’ve talked about this. Lending money to friends ruins relationships. And I have money—I’m just trying not to spend it.” I paused, something more serious taking over my tone. “And I want to do this on my own. I need to.”
Emily sighed. “Fine. Be stubborn.”
I turned the corner with my shopping cart and was about to say something else when it jammed into someone else’s basket, sending my elbows sprawling off the handlebar. My phone somersaulted onto the ramen packets in my basket, and my promenade through the noodle section came to an abrupt halt.
“Oh, shoot,” I said, quickly grabbing my phone and seeing that Emily was still on the line. “I gotta go, Em. Traffic jam in aisle three.”
“Call me later,” Emily said, and the line went dead.
Food items were sprawled on the dirty tile floor, and I got down to start picking up the mess. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going—”
Another pair of hands started helping, and soon all the items were back in the basket.
As I stood up, ready to apologize profusely to this random person I’d run into, I came face-to-face with dark navy eyes and tousled dark hair.
“Oh. It’s you again,” I said lamely.
“Hey, neighbor. Seems we just keep running into each other.”
He looked different without his trash-loving Pokémon or running attire.
He now wore a white V-neck T-shirt and designer jeans.
His hair wasn’t falling into his face like when he’d been running; instead, it was styled back, revealing his forehead and letting me see just how dark his eyes were.
Even the fluorescent lighting of the grocery store couldn’t diminish how deep blue they were.
“Sorry, I dumped your basket.” I cleared my throat awkwardly, brushing some wild strands of hair out of my face.
“It’s all good,” he said, gesturing to the ramen with a lopsided smile. “How’d the job interview go?”
“I’m stockpiling ramen noodles. How do you think it went?” I gave him a droll stare and a dry laugh.
“Not so well, then…” His smile faded, and genuine concern crinkled his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s honestly for the best. It would not have been the right fit for me.” I sighed. “But that’s not the only reason I’m buying ramen. My fridge is broken right now, so I’m working with shelf-stable food only.” There I went again with the needless details.
“Your fridge is broken?” Jay’s brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. I heard Emily’s voice in my mind asking about his body. Good thing I never told her he had toned biceps, because that would’ve been weird.
“Yup. Broken. Dead. Kaput.” I couldn’t believe I’d just used an onomatopoeia in front of him like that and mentally smacked myself again.
“Oh. Well, if you need help fixing it, I could give it a try.”
“You want to help me fix my fridge?” My brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you be at work—you know, removing ingrown toenails or something?”
He chuckled. “It’s no big deal, honestly.
My afternoon patients canceled, so I have a few hours to kill.
” He neither confirmed nor denied the podiatrist theory, leaving me still itching to know more about him.
“Unless, of course, you want to pay a handyman… but I’ll warn you, Joe is the only one around, and he’s not exactly cheap. ”
The lopsided smile on his face turned into a playful smirk.
Not exactly cheap wasn’t going to work for me. And I really wanted to buy food that wasn’t in a Styrofoam container.
“Well… if you’re sure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Are you doing anything this afternoon?”
“I think you already know the answer to that,” I said pathetically, letting out a weak chuckle. I should’ve tried to play a little harder to get, but I was terrible at putting up a front. I was unemployed and had no plans. It would just prolong the inevitable if I tried to hide how pathetic I was.
“Great. I’ll take my groceries home, grab my tools, and I can head over there after.”
I couldn’t believe I was agreeing to this. That would mean he’d be seeing the inside of the cabin and all its humble glory.
We both started toward the front of the store, and Jay gestured for me to go first in the checkout line. I did my best to ignore his presence behind me, but despite my efforts, I found myself peeking over at him.
One of the workers opened up another lane and invited Jay to check out. She had curly silver hair and brown eyes, and she was all smiles as he put his things on the conveyor belt. They immediately started chatting like old friends.
“You didn’t come to Knitting Club last week. We missed you,” the checkout woman said.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, Patti. I had an emergency down at the office I had to help with.”
Knitting Club?
“Well, we’re getting together later this week. The ladies would love to have you stop by.”
“I’ll be there,” he said, flashing her a smile that made the woman’s cheeks pinken a bit. She tucked a curly silver lock behind her ear before fumbling to finish ringing up his items.
I got the last of my ramen packs rung up and paid for. Grabbing my bags, I started walking out to my car, still confused about whether I’d heard correctly that Jay was in a knitting club.
I opened the trunk, and suddenly he was there, helping lift my things into my car.
“Can I get your number? I’ll text you when I’m headed over.”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I mumbled, handing him my phone, figuring it was practical enough.
A few moments later, he handed it back with another half-smile that had my heart skipping a beat.
“I’ll see you soon.”
He walked away, and I watched him get into a sleek black truck a few spaces down. My insides twisted with nervous butterflies as I got into my own car and turned the key in the ignition.