Page 8 of The Darkest Parts of Me

She studies my face. “Was it hard seeing the cabin again?”

I nod. “But it also made me happy. It’s all just weird.”

Tasha hums in agreement. “I have to say, seeing you walk into the shop today was like witnessing a miracle.” Her eyes appear glassy, like she might cry, but she keeps it in. I coyly smile, not ready to go there—not even with her.

“Yeah, I guess in a way it was.”

“And what about work?”

“Everything went smoothly, actually. As soon as I made the request, it was just some paperwork to fill out and I was good to go. Turns out, taking a sabbatical was a lot easier than I thought.”

Tasha nods along. “That’s amazing.”

I shrug. “It’s my dad’s company, so I doubt they could have said no.”

Tasha looks a little lost on what to say next. Instead, she takes my hand from across the table. “I’m proud of you, Maven, and in case it wasn’t already obvious enough, I’m so happy you are back.”

With both my hands now holding hers, I say, “Me too, and thank you.” We hold on to each other for a little longer until I change the subject.

“Anyway. What do you have going on tomorrow?”

Tasha huffs dramatically. “Inventory day.”

“What does that entail, exactly?” I wonder, picking up the last bit of scone left on my plate.

“It’s terrible! We have to go through every single book in the shop to check it for damage, clean off the shelves, and scan them into the new system to catalog. All the books we don’t keep, we’re donating.” She releases a long breath.

I don’t admit it, but I’m dreading my day tomorrow too. My mom and I agreed to go through everything that had been packed away, but so much of it was my dad’s . . .

“What if I come and help you?” I ask, hoping to put off the anguish for a bit longer.

Tasha perks up. “You want to help at the shop? Don’t you have a bunch of unpacking to do?”

She’s right, but I don’t want to think about it. Not yet. It was enough for me just to see the cabin again, and I have no motivation to dive into the past all at once. I have time. It isn’t going anywhere.

“Truthfully, I think it might be good for my mom to look over my dad’s things alone first. I’m sure there are more items she’ll want to keep than I will, so it might be good to give her some space.”

Tasha contemplates my answer for a moment, but she looks convinced. “Okay. I mean, it would be amazing if you did. It could actually be fun if it was the two of us.”

“Well then, count me in!” I say enthusiastically.

“Okay, but fair warning, we need to start early to get as much done as we can before the weekend.”

I shake my head. “I don’t mind. Like you said, it will be fun.”

Tash looks pleased, and I’m glad she doesn’t push further on the fact that I’m clearly avoiding going through my dad’s stuff.

“In that case, we better head back so we can get up bright and early,” she says, scooting out of the booth, and I follow.

“Sounds perfect.”

The mountain air kisses us in a cool, crisp breeze as we return to the bookshop. Strings of lights adorn every lamppost, creating a tapestry of a dream-like ambiance through the streets.

I’ve always loved the way the town feels in the evenings. The low sunset rays behind the tall evergreen trees shadow them in black as they are silhouetted against the twilight sky. The bookshop is closed for customers, but there’s still light streaming from the windows as we walk inside. My mom and Mina must have moved their conversation to the upstairs apartment where Tasha and her mother live. We’re quiet as we make our way up, but before we reach the door leading to the apartment, I pause when I hear my mother’s voice drifting toward us on the other side. The door is slightly ajar, and Tasha reaches for the handle, but I softly grab her hand before she touches it. My mom is speaking in a low, serious tone, but I can hear her words clearly.

“I was shocked when she suggested it. Visiting is one thing, living here is another. I’m trying to be supportive, but . . .”

“But what?” Mina asks in the same low tenor, like they are unconsciously trying to whisper.

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