Page 29 of Tell Me It’s Right

GRACIE

I head into the shop Monday morning with a pep in my step. I lock the bike up front before striding inside with my backpack and camera bag slung over my shoulder and my head held high.

Liam can make fun of me all he wants, and maybe it’s a little overzealous, but the more I think about it, the less working here sounds like a bad idea. Like Carson said, maybe this is an opportunity. If I can revamp the shop’s presence online, I can use this as a real-life case study. A littlelook-what-I-can-doexample to show other companies. Something that’ll make me stand out enough to find the right job within the next six months.

The past week has been about finding my bearings. Learning the basics, making plans. Now it’s time to get serious. And I know I can do this. When I’m through with this place, I’m going to have people who never even dreamed of getting a tattoo lined up down the block. I’m going to be dodging job offers left and right. I’ll be able to hold it over Liam’s head for the rest of his life that I doubled—no,tripled—the shop’s income through my social media plans alone?—

“You have something to keep busy with today?” Liam is standing on the other side of the desk, though his attention issquarely on his phone, and judging by the tension in his face, whatever he’s looking at isn’t good.

“I…was going to start setting up the different social accounts, make a plan for the website updates, take some pictures of the shop since it’s nice and sunny today…why? Is there something else you want me to do?”

“Nope. Works for me.” He finally glances up at me, but his eyes don’t meet mine, and he gives me a closed-lip smile before shoving the phone into his pocket and heading for the back of the shop.

I stare after him for a second, not sure if I’m imagining the weird vibe, but he doesn’t come back out.It’s none of my business, I remind myself, then tidy up the desk and pull out my camera. I’ll want to clean up and stage the inside of the shop more first, but I can grab some shots of the exterior. They’ll be good to add to the website but also some easy first posts once I set up the new social accounts.

The bells above the door jangle as I step outside, and I tie my hair up in a ponytail before the breeze can make a mess of it. The sunlight is gentle and golden this morning, the way it falls on the building almost whimsical and picturesque. I can already tell these are going to turn outso good.

I try few different angles from the curb, then jog across the street for a wider shot. As I close one eye and peer through the eyepiece, the image blurs. I pull the camera away to wipe off the lens, but my vision doesn’t clear.

Oh, God, no.

It’s been so long since I’ve had one—years—but I recognize the aura for what it is immediately. Pixelated lines zigzag across my vision, slowly growing in size. I have maybe thirty minutes before the nausea and headache set in, but probably less until I can’t see all together. I don’t bother checking my bags for my medication because I know I won’t find it. After years withouta migraine, I stopped carrying it around.Shit.I couldn’t bike home right now if I tried.

Sometimes my vision clears up after about forty-five minutes, so I guess I’ll have to wait it out. My head will be on fucking fire by then, especially if I have to go out in sunlight, but I don’t see any other solution.

The shop is quiet as I step inside and retreat to the bathroom to ride this out. No sign of Liam.

I close the door, rest my back against it, and slide down to the floor. I can’t believe this is happening. Why now? After all these years? I mean, sure, I’ve been stressed, which used to be one of the things that triggered them. But I thought I’d outgrown them altogether once my hormones settled after puberty. That’s what my doctors said, at least.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the lines keep dancing behind my eyelids. Honestly, it’s one of the most annoying parts of these headaches. Being forced to watch this damn light show until it makes me throw up.

I don’t know how long I sit there with my legs pulled to my chest and my forehead pressed against my knees. Long enough for the pain to set in behind my eyes and at the nape of my neck.

Footsteps thud quietly outside the door. They disappear, then increase in volume like someone is pacing. After a moment, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Gracie?” calls Liam.

“Yeah?” I call weakly.

“Are you all right?”

I sigh. I’m going to be utterly useless for the rest of the day. There’s no getting around it. So much for taking the day by storm. And during mysecond weekhere too.

“Gracie?”

“No,” I finally answer. “I—I’m sorry. I’m getting a migraine, and I don’t have my medication. I’d just go home but I—” I huff out a frustrated exhale. “I can’t see right now and?—”

“Can I come in?”

“Okay.” I scoot away from the door, but he doesn’t open it right away. His footsteps sound like he’s going in the opposite direction. Several moments pass before he returns and opens the door.

I cover my eyes and turn away as the piercing light fills the small bathroom, but he slips inside and closes the door behind him just as quickly.

“All right. Here we go.” I startle as his hands brush my face. He pulls mine away, then slides on a pair of sunglasses that are a bit too big for me. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

I take the hand he offers and stumble to my feet, my balance off. He braces a hand on my back as he leads me to his truck parked out back.

It’s not until I’m in the passenger seat, my hands pressed firmly to my eyes to block out the sun, that it occurs to me I left everything on the front desk. “My stuff?—”

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