Chapter 22 #2
Thank you for the opportunities I've had here.
Riley Monroe
She hit send and heard the whoosh of the email leaving her outbox.
“You have my resignation in your inbox.”
Sandra's face had gone white. "Riley, you're being rash. You're upset because of one difficult day—"
"This wasn’t a difficult day and I'm not upset.
I'm done." Riley started packing her desk—her favorite mug, the framed photo of her and Hannah from college, the little succulent that had somehow survived three years of fluorescent lighting.
"I'm done sacrificing my life for a company that doesn't care if I have one. "
"You're throwing away your career. Seven years of work—"
"Seven years of missed holidays. Missed birthdays.
Missed dinners with people I care about.
" Riley pulled open her drawer, grabbing the emergency granola bars and phone charger she kept stashed.
"Seven years of being told that my personal life doesn't matter as much as client needs.
I'm not throwing anything away. I'm choosing something better. "
"You won't find another position like this. Not after walking out with no notice. I'll make sure of that."
Riley stopped, meeting Sandra's eyes. "You know what?
I don't want another position like this.
I don't want a job that calls me on Christmas.
I don't want a boss who thinks holidays don't matter.
I don't want to spend another seven years being told that success means having no life outside these walls. "
Sandra's expression had shifted from anger to something that looked almost like pity. "You'll regret this. A month from now, when the money runs out and you're desperate for work, you'll regret this."
"Maybe." Riley shouldered her bag, her few personal items tucked inside. "But I'll regret the things I missed tonight more. I'll regret breaking promises to people I care about. At least if I leave now, I can still try to fix some of that."
"You can't just—"
But Riley was already walking away, past the cubicles full of people pretending not to stare, past the break room where she'd eaten lunch at her desk for seven years, past the elevator bank where she'd waited countless times for a car to take her home at midnight.
She didn't look back.
The elevator ride down felt surreal. Riley kept waiting for panic to set in, for the reality of what she'd just done to hit her. But all she felt was light. Free.
She'd just quit her job. No backup plan. No safety net. Nothing waiting for her except—
Grant.
Riley checked her phone as she pushed through the revolving doors. Still no response from Grant.
She pulled up Hannah's number instead.
Riley: I'm going to miss the pageant. I'm so sorry. Please tell the kids I tried.
Hannah's response came a minute later.
Hannah: We're about to start. Call me after. Are you okay?
Riley: I will. I'm sorry.
She sprinted the three blocks to the station, her bag banging against her hip, her breath coming in gasps. The departure board showed the four fifteen train boarding on Track 7.
Riley ran faster.
She made it to the platform just as the doors started to close. She threw herself through the gap, stumbling into the nearly empty car.
The train pulled away from the station, and Riley collapsed into a seat by the window, her heart pounding, her hands shaking.
She'd done it. She'd actually done it.
Riley pulled out her phone and tried Grant again.
Riley: I'm on the train home. I know I missed the pageant and I know you're upset but please, please talk to me.
Delivered. Read.
No response.
Riley stared at the screen, willing the typing bubbles to appear. Willing Grant to say something, anything.
Nothing.
She tried calling. It rang four times and went to voicemail.
"Grant, it's me. I know you're angry. You have every right to be angry. I broke my promise and I—" Her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry. I tried everything to get away. I'm coming home. Please call me back."
She hung up and pressed her forehead against the window, watching the city disappear behind her.
The train rocked gently, carrying her toward home. Toward Grant. Toward a conversation she didn't know how to have.
Riley wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to cry.
He wasn't responding. He'd read her messages, listened to her voicemail, and chosen silence.
Riley couldn't blame him. She'd promised she'd be there. She'd looked him in the eye and sworn she wouldn't let work get in the way.
And then she'd done exactly that.
She hadn't told him what she'd done at the office. Hadn't told him about quitting. That conversation needed to happen face to face. She needed to look him in the eye and explain. Needed him to see that she meant it this time.
The landscape outside shifted from city buildings to suburbs to the rolling hills and farmland that meant she was getting close to home. Riley's phone stayed silent.
She tried one more time.
Riley: I know I screwed up. I know I broke my promise. But I'm coming home and I need you to believe that I'm not going anywhere. Please talk to me.
Delivered. Read.
No response.
Riley closed her eyes and let the tears come.
She'd quit her job. She'd chosen Grant, chosen Pine Valley, chosen the life she wanted.
She just hoped it wasn't too late.
The train pulled into Pine Valley station at 6:23 p.m.
Riley gathered her bag and stepped onto the platform. The cold air bit at her cheeks, and the station was nearly empty—just an older couple waiting for a pickup and a man walking his dog.
The pageant had been over for more than an hour.
Riley's phone stayed dark. No messages. No calls. Just silence.
She pulled up her dad's number and called.
"Riley?" David answered on the second ring. "Everything okay?"
"I'm at the train station. Can you pick me up?"
"Of course. Be there in ten minutes."
Her dad didn't ask questions on the drive home, just squeezed her shoulder when she climbed into the truck and turned up the heat. Riley stared out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, her stomach churning.
"Mom's at home," David said quietly. "She'll want to talk."
"I know."
When they pulled into the driveway, Riley could see her mom waiting on the porch. Carol came down the steps as Riley climbed out, wrapping her in a tight hug.
"Hannah called," Carol said. "She said you missed the pageant. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just—I need to get my car. I need to go see Grant."
Carol pulled back, studying Riley's face. "Did something happen?"
"I'll explain later. I promise. But I need to go."
"Okay." Carol squeezed her hands. "Be careful. The roads might be icy."
Riley grabbed her car keys from the hook inside and headed back out. Her old sedan was cold, the engine protesting as she started it. She sat in the driveway for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady her breathing.
Then she backed out and headed toward the farm.
The drive took fifteen minutes. Fifteen more minutes of rehearsing what she'd say. Fifteen minutes of her heart pounding and her mind spinning through every possible outcome.
By the time she turned onto the long gravel drive leading to the farmhouse, it was nearly seven-thirty. Full dark had fallen. The porch light was on, and Grant's truck sat in the driveway.
He was home.
Riley parked beside his truck and sat there for a moment. The house windows were mostly dark—just a faint glow from what looked like the living room. But there, across the yard, light spilled from the barn.
Her heart sank and lifted at the same time.
He was out there. Working off his anger and hurt the only way he knew how.
Riley took a deep breath, grabbed her bag, and climbed out of the car. The cold hit her immediately, biting through her coat.
She walked across the yard toward the barn, her boots crunching in the snow. Through the partially open door, she could hear the sound of tools. Movement. Grant's silhouette against the workbench light.
Riley stopped at the entrance, her hand on the weathered wood, and worked to steady her breathing one more time.
This was it.
She pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.