Chapter 12RILEY
CHAPTER 12
RILEY
T he sun is pouring through the kitchen window, painting everything in gold, but it does nothing to lift the weight in my chest. I sit at the table, staring at the toast on my plate, my appetite nowhere to be found.
Aunt Dotty is humming as she waters her plants, her gentle melody usually enough to make me smile. Not today. Not after yesterday.
I grip the edge of the table, trying to push away the memory of Ethan standing in his driveway, waving off Georgia like they were part of some romantic movie scene. The polished smile on her face, the easy way they laughed together—it all feels like a punch to the gut every time I think about it.
It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the image .
“You’re the reason I love it here.”
His words replay in my head, taunting me. I wanted to believe him. I really did. But how am I supposed to believe anything he says now?
I shove my plate away, the scrape of ceramic against wood louder than I intend. Aunt Dotty glances over, her humming, pausing for a beat.
“Not hungry?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.
“Not really,” I say, standing quickly and grabbing my bag.
Her eyes follow me as I sling it over my shoulder and head toward the door. “Riley, honey, you’ve been quiet all morning. Is something on your mind?”
I freeze for a second, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. “I’m fine,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
“You don’t look fine,” she presses, setting down her watering can. “Does this have anything to do with Ethan?”
His name hits like a spark on dry kindling, and I feel my stomach twist. I force a shrug, trying to seem indifferent. “It’s nothing. I just have a lot on my plate right now.”
Aunt Dotty doesn’t buy it, of course. She steps closer, her gaze soft but knowing. “Riley, you can’t keep everything bottled up forever. Whatever’s going on, shutting people out won’t make it better.”
I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong. But the truth is, she’s not. I’ve spent years building walls, convincing myself that being alone is better than risking the pain of losing someone again. Letting someone in feels like handing them the power to break me. And Ethan… Ethan’s too close to doing just that.
I let out a sharp breath, avoiding her eyes. “It’s easier this way.”
“Easier isn’t always better,” she says, her voice steady. “Sometimes it just leaves you lonelier.”
The words settle in my chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating. I don’t respond. Instead, I mutter something about heading to the store and leave before she can say anything else.
At the store, everything feels off. The familiar scent of sawdust and metal, usually comforting, just feels hollow today. I spend the morning busying myself with tasks that don’t need doing—rearranging shelves, sweeping floors that are already clean—anything to keep my mind occupied.
But it doesn’t work.
Every time the bell above the door jingles, my chest tightens, half-expecting Ethan to walk in. Part of me wants him to—wants him to say something, anything, that’ll make this feeling go away.
But another part of me knows it won’t matter. Words don’t mean much when actions tell a different story.
By lunchtime, the store is busy with customers, but I keep my interactions short, polite, and distant. I can feel the curious stares, the unspoken questions hanging in the air.
I know what they’re thinking. I heard the whispers yesterday, the way people talked about Ethan and Georgia like they were Bardstown’s new power couple. And every time someone mentions it, it feels like another wall slamming into place around me.
The whispers shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t care who Ethan spends his time with, or what people assume about us. But the idea of him and Georgia—her polished, effortless charm—lingers like a splinter. It’s not just jealousy. It’s the fear that I was wrong to let my guard down, even a little. And worse, the fear that maybe I wasn’t enough for him to stay in the first place.
When I get home that evening, Aunt Dotty is in the kitchen, humming again as she stirs something on the stove. The smell of baked apples and cinnamon fills the air, but it doesn’t do much to ease the tension in my chest.
She glances up as I walk in, her smile fading slightly when she sees me. “Rough day?”
I shrug, kicking off my boots and dropping my bag by the door. “Just busy.”
Dotty sets the spoon down and turns to face me, crossing her arms. “Riley, sit down.”
I hesitate, knowing where this is going, but the look on her face leaves no room for argument. I sit at the table, avoiding her gaze.
“You’ve been like this all day,” she says, her tone soft but firm. “Is it about Ethan?”
I stiffen, my fingers curling into fists on my lap. “I don’t want to talk about it. ”
Aunt Dotty sighs, sitting across from me. “Honey, I know you’ve been hurt before. I know letting people in isn’t easy for you. But whatever happened with Ethan, you can’t just shut him out.”
I glance away, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if shutting him out is the only thing keeping me from getting hurt? He’s just going to leave anyway. People like him always do.”
The words sound hollow even to me, like I’m trying to convince myself more than her. Aunt Dotty sighs, her hand warm and steady on mine, as if she’s trying to transfer her strength into me. “Maybe he won’t. Maybe this time is different.”
I shake my head, pulling my hand away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s safer this way.”
She doesn’t argue, but the look in her eyes says she doesn’t believe me.
Later, as I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, her words echo in my mind. Maybe this time is different.
But the ache in my chest won’t let me believe it.
I ’ve perfected the art of avoiding Ethan. It’s not that hard, really. I time my trips to the store so I leave before he even has a chance to step outside. I keep my head down when I pass his driveway. At the hardware store, I make sure I’m busy in the back if there’s even a hint of him walking in.
It’s exhausting.
And worse, it doesn’t help.
Because no matter how much distance I put between us, there’s still that nagging part of me that wishes he’d come find me. That he’d walk through the door, look me in the eye, and say something that would make this whole mess make sense.
But he doesn’t.
And I can’t let myself wait for him.
The silence between Aunt Dotty and me stretches longer with each passing day. Usually, she’s humming, teasing, or telling some story from her past that’s just wild enough to make me laugh. Now, she’s quiet, her eyes full of unspoken questions every time she looks at me.
She knows something’s wrong. Of course, she does. She always does.
I’m halfway through rearranging the display near the front counter when the bell jingles, and Aunt Dotty walks in. I glance up, surprised to see her standing there, hands on her hips and a look of determination on her face.
“Aunt Dotty?” I say, straightening. “What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she glances around the store, her gaze landing on me with a mix of frustration and concern.
“Close up,” she says firmly .
“What?” I blink, caught off guard. “I can’t just close up. It’s the middle of the day.”
“You can, and you will,” she says, walking to the counter and placing her hands on it. “You need a break, Riley. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the look on her face stops me. This isn’t a suggestion—it’s a command.
With a sigh, I lock the front door, flipping the sign to “Closed.” Aunt Dotty waits patiently, and once I’m done, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward her car.
“Where are we going?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.
“You’ll see,” she says, her tone soft but firm.
We pull up to the cemetery a few minutes later, and my chest tightens. I haven’t been here in months, not because I don’t care, but because it’s hard. Too hard.
Dotty doesn’t say anything as she leads me toward my parents’ graves. The familiar sight of their headstones makes my throat tighten, and I take a deep breath, willing myself to keep it together.
For a while, we stand in silence. Dotty places a hand on my shoulder, her grip steady and reassuring.
“They’d be so proud of you,” she says softly, her voice breaking through the quiet.
“I don’t know how they did it,” I say, my voice cracking. “They made it look so easy, loving each other. Even when things got hard, they never gave up on each other. I don’t know if I’m built that way.”
Aunt Dotty shakes her head gently. “They weren’t fearless, Riley. They were brave. There’s a difference. They faced the risk because they knew it was worth it. You can do the same.”
I swallow hard, my eyes stinging. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” she says firmly. “You’ve built a life here, Riley. You’ve worked so hard, and you’ve done it all on your own. But even the strongest people need someone to lean on.”
I shake my head, my voice trembling. “I’m fine, Aunt Dotty. I don’t need anyone.”
“Yes, you do,” she says, turning me to face her. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Letting someone in doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human.”
The words hit harder than I expect, and I glance back at the headstones, my chest tightening.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly.
“I know you are,” she says, her voice gentle. “But love is worth the risk, Riley. Your parents knew that. They lived it every day. And they would want you to have that, too.”
I close my eyes, letting her words sink in. The thought of letting Ethan in, of giving him the chance to hurt me, terrifies me. But the thought of shutting him out forever, of missing what might be…
I don’t know if I can live with that either.
Aunt Dotty squeezes my shoulder, her smile soft and understanding. “You’ve got a good heart, Riley. Don’t let fear keep you from sharing it with someone who’s willing to fight for it.”
I nod slowly, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak.
“Take a chance,” she says simply. “He’s worth it.”
As we walk back to the car, her words echo in my mind, weaving into the quiet resolve that’s slowly building in my chest. The fear doesn’t disappear. But Aunt Dotty’s words settle something else in me, something quieter.
Maybe love isn’t about not being afraid. Maybe it’s about choosing to try anyway. I don’t know if I can do that yet. But for the first time, I don’t feel like I have to figure it out alone.