Page 72 of Recklessly in Love

Mia’s eyes go wide. “Are you really having a mental breakdown?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but … “Yeah, kind of?” I admit. “For a while, everything seemed too perfect to be true. But when Greg’s father showed up with those documents … well, it all just unraveled, and I’ve been going downhill since.” Mia reaches out and squeezes my hand. When I’d finally told her about why I’d really lost my job, she was furious on my behalf. Even with her and Greg’s support, I’m only now realizing how much it affected me. “I feel like … Fuck, I don’t know how to feel anymore. And I can’t wait around forever for Greg to fix things for me. Who knows if he can or how long he’ll be gone.”

“He hasn’t said when he’ll be back?” she asks, pressing her lips together in concern.

“Nope. I even asked him to come home,” I admit in a small voice.

“Oh, Jo. He said no?” she asks incredulously.

I close my eyes and nod. “I tried not to see it as a rejection. I really did. I know he’s doing what he can. But that doesn’t mean it’ll work. And I feel like I’m hanging over the edge of a cliff right now, and I need to do something to pull myself back. Does any of this make sense?”

Mia sighs and nods. “Actually, yes,” she admits. “If I were you, I’d be going out of my mind.”

I give her a small smile. “I think I just need to reconnect with my real life. Since Greg is off doing his thing, maybe I should be too.”

Mia’s brow furrows, and I know what she’s thinking. She thought Alpine Ridge and Greg had become my real life. I’d thought so, too. Now, everything seems like a mess that I don’t know how or have the energy to fix.

Still, ever supportive, Mia steps forward and hugs me tightly. “Okay,” she murmurs. “I understand. We’ll look into the signatures issue and take care of everything here. You focus on taking care of yourself, okay?”

I nod against her shoulder, grateful for her support even as I feel like I’m abandoning her, abandoning all of them.

But I can’t think about that now. I need to go, breathe, and clear my head. So I give Mia one last squeeze, wave goodbye to Nate and Rae, and head for my car. I stop by Mia and Nate’s house only long enough to get my things, and then I’m back on the road.

Driving out of Alpine Ridge, I feel a sense of déjà vu. It wasn’t that long ago that I was fleeing Seattle, running away from my old life and all its problems, if only for a little while. And now, here I am, running back to it.

The difference is that I’m not sure what I’m running toward this time. Seattle doesn’t feel like home anymore, but neither does Alpine Ridge without Greg.

Greg. Just thinking his name makes my heart clench. I know he’s been busy trying to fix this mess with his dad and protect me, but the silence this past week after not seeing him for so long on top of it has been torture. I miss him so much it’s like a physical ache.

But I can’t think about that now either because Greg was clear about why we needed to be apart. So, all I can do is focus on myself and what I should do now.

I let out a harsh laugh. Who am I kidding? I have no idea what I should do. But I have to do something.

As the snowy peaks of Alpine Ridge fade in my rearview mirror, I feel a sense of loss. But also, strangely, a flicker of hope. Maybe this really is what I need. A chance to regroup and gain some perspective.

Maybe it’s time to remember who Joanie Morris is, separate from this town and these people I’ve come to love. It’s time to rediscover my strength and figure out what I really want.

Again, who am I kidding with this? Because what I really want is a certain mountain man with eyes like the summer sky and a heart as big as the Cascades.

I know that sooner or later, we’ll figure things out. I’d hoped for sooner, but clearly, that’s not meant to be. It’s a good opportunity to focus on myself for now, anyway.

Seattle isn’t quite how I left it; it’s somehow busier. Fuller. As I drive through the rain-soaked city, a sea of umbrellas skim the sidewalks.

When I let myself in, the condo feels impersonal. The quiet is deafening. I drop my bag on the floor, and it echoes through the small space.

After I’ve unpacked a bit, I flop onto the couch with a sigh. Funny how a place I once loved can seem so different now.

Maybe I should try harder. Maybe getting back to work would make me feel more like myself. I can still handle the incorporation project from afar, and Greg and I agreed we’d split time between Seattle and Alpine Ridge. It could work.

My eyes slide to my laptop on the dining room table, but I’m too restless to look at job listings right now. Maybe later.

I decide to finish unpacking first, methodically putting away my clothes. But as I do, I realize my wardrobe no longer feels like me. It’s all sharp angles and power suits, remnants of a life that no longer fits.

On impulse, I start pulling things out and making a pile for donation: skirts I can’t imagine ever wearing again, blouses that feel too constricting, towering heels that now seem impractical. It’s cathartic, shedding these layers of my old self.

When I’m done, my closet looks bare. But somehow, I feel lighter.

Next, I wander into the kitchen, opening cupboards and the fridge. They’re all depressingly empty, so I decide to brave the rain and do some grocery shopping. Hopefully, the normalcy will help snap me back to myself.

---