I toss my items on the passenger side and grip my steering wheel. Looking up toward his house, I see him standing on his porch, mug of coffee in hand, watching over me.
Ugh, he’s infuriating.
I start my car and drive away. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me distressed over my current predicament, no way—he’ll just take pleasure in it, the sadist.
When I’m driving down the road, I reach for my phone and call Maggie. When the Bluetooth connects to my car, her voice sounds through the speakers.
“Why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be with Matt? Oh my God, did he cheat on you? Did you go there and find him with someone else?”
“Why would you assume that?” I ask, leaning my head back against the headrest while still keeping my eyes trained on the road.
“Because, I told you, he gives me the ick.”
“Well, he didn’t cheat on me, but he did break up with me for being boring.”
“What?” she yells.
I give her the entire rundown from what he said to telling me to grab my things, and then how I found the Grammy and decided to be a good freaking Samaritan and drop it off at Hayes’s house.
“So you went to his house to give him his Grammy back? You’re a saint.”
“Thank you, that’s what I thought until he decided to pin me for the crime and threaten to call the cops on me.”
“Nooooo,” Maggie growls. “He did not do that.”
“Oh yes, he did. Which then led to me going inside his house to save my ass, and guess what, Mags?”
“Tell me.”
“I’m now working for him.”
There’s a pause. “Wait . . . what?”
Yeah, I’m still trying to process it all too.
“Apparently, the man has no sense of organization because his office and garage are trashed. Matt was supposed to clean it up, but because he fired him for stealing—shocking—he now needs the help and told me I could take the job or he would call the police.”
“That’s blackmail.” Her outrage is just what I need at this moment. Find yourself a friend like Maggie. She’s the absolute best.
“Are you surprised? The guy has no moral compass.”
“I can’t believe that,” she says as I make my way toward The Almond Store. “Is he going to at least pay you?”
“Yes, thank God, and I hate to admit it, but given my circumstances, I could really use the money.”
“True, but it’s Hayes Farrow . . . your brother hates him.”
“That’s why Ryland is not going to find out.”
“And how do you plan on keeping your new employment a secret? What are you even going to tell them about being in town?” Maggie asks.
“I thought about that, and since I’m returning midsemester, I’m going to tell them I spoke with my professors, and we all agreed that I need to take some time off because of Cassidy’s death. They don’t need to know that time off is because I failed every one of my midterms. I came back here to gather myself and found an internship to help tide me over.”
“Internship. That’s believable.”
“I’ll say one of my professors hooked me up with it. And thankfully, since Hayes lives outside of town and far away from any family members or townspeople, it won’t be a problem.”
“Okay, and what about the whole he’s the sexiest man ever to walk the planet thing?”
“What about it?” I ask.
“Uh, are you going to be able to control yourself?”
“Maggie,” I say on a huff as I drive down Almond Ave. “Unlike Hayes, I have standards, convictions. He might be hot, but there’s no way I’d touch that man with a ten-foot pole. Also, he’s twelve years older than I am. He’s the same age as Ryland.”
“That’s hot.”
“Wait, so Matt gives you the ick, but a twelve-year age difference doesn’t?”
“Age gap is in.”
“Something is seriously wrong with you.”
“Come on, the thought of being with an experienced man doesn’t make your body tingle with anticipation?”
“No,” I say even though that’s slightly a lie. Sex with Matt was . . . okay. I did fake it a lot, but there were some good times . . . maybe like a few. Not many actually. Either way, who’s to say Hayes would even be good at sex? He probably has a gaggle of women lined up and ready to fake it as well.
“I don’t believe you.”
I sigh. “Can we just agree that I’m in hell?”
“If hell is being able to smell and stare at Hayes Farrow daily, tell me where to sign up.”
“You need help.”
“I know.” We both laugh.
“Hey, I’m at The Almond Store, and I need to present myself to my sister, see if I can find a place to stay.”
“Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.”
I hang up the phone and turn off my car, but don’t exit right away.
I need to take a second.
The last time I was in The Almond Store, Cassidy’s pride and joy besides her daughter, I was picking up some almond butter to take back to school. Cassidy teased me about taking advantage of the family discount—free—and then gave me one of her signature hugs.
Warm and full of love.
Cassidy was my best friend growing up. Nine years older than me, she took me under her wing and kept me close. She played with me, even when she was too old to be playing with dolls. She colored with me. She spent countless hours making up dances to our favorite songs with me. I idolized her and when Mom passed, she was so . . . present. In some ways, she became my mom.
When she was diagnosed with breast cancer, just like our mom, it felt like I was living in some sort of dream, like it wasn’t happening in real life but in some sick nightmare.
And when I got the call that she died, I broke down. For days, Maggie held me as I cried. She never said anything, just sat there with me like the best friend that she is.
I came back for the funeral, and we released her ashes in the bay.
And when her will was read to us, I felt . . . let down.
Ryland was assigned the challenging task of taking custody of MacKenzie, an assignment I can understand. He has a solid job, he has no plans of leaving Almond Bay, he’s situated in his life, and can offer stability to a four-year-old after losing her mother.
But The Almond Store? Our dream? It went to Aubree. The store and the farm.
And sure, Aubree helped out at the store, she knows how to run things, but it doesn’t negate the hurt. The Almond Store is my baby with Cassidy. I helped her design and come up with the concept. Aubree could have taken the farm, but the store . . . Cassidy should have left that to me to carry on the legacy we created.
I’ve never expressed my feelings about it because I didn’t want to sound jealous or bring up bad feelings in a moment when we should be coming together to support each other and MacKenzie, but fuck does it make me sick to my stomach.
And I know walking in there will bring up all of those feelings.
The feeling of loss, not seeing Cassidy behind the counter, not feeling her sunny hug, not seeing her joyful smile.
I take a deep breath, willing back the tears. Don’t cry.