Page 25 of Stopped

“C’mon, Will. Let’s go get the doctor.” Josh’s firm hand landed on my back and gently steered me away from the bed. Instead of fighting the help, I let him guide me from the room and as soon as the door clicked closed behind us, I finally let myself crumble under the insurmountable weight of reality. My father no longer recognized me. Our already bleak future seemed even more hopeless as I choked back my sobs and leaned into the support of my friend. If it weren't for him, I doubted I could have remained upright.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Josh murmured as he held me tighter.

Speechless and stunned, I didn't bother responding. There wasn't anything that could be said in the face of this inevitable situation. The only thing I could do was weep. Mourning the loss of a parent who still lived was a special sort of pain that words would never be able to convey.

Chapter Thirteen

Elijah

One day without hearingfrom Will became two days, and two days became three, then four. Even the most festive of fall decorations couldn't drag my mood from the gutter as I trudged into Snacks-and-Sips on day five of no contact. I knew enough to not take it personally, or at least my logic processing knew it wasn't personal. I'd heard from his friend Josh with daily updates and Cam’s mom, the owner of the cafe, fed me enough gossip and caramel lattes to satiate my worried mind. Regardless, not hearing from Will directly weighed on me more than I wanted to admit.

I'd considered heading to the hospital myself, but Josh suggested I wait. He was careful with what details he divulged, but I could read between the lines—apparently the situation with Will’s father's deteriorated cognitive function was a rough one and neither of us thought Will would want an audience for the nightmare he was living. Still, my heart ached to reach out to him and help in any way I could. Unfortunately, my only recourse was a daily text reminder that I was thinking of him.

“Good morning, dear.” Mary leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “The usual?”

“Please, and thank you.” I returned the maternal affection with a weary smile. I'd just gotten similar TLC from my own mom, but I would take all the comfort I could. Will’s terrible situation wasn't the only burden weighing me down.

“Are you excited about the Back to School Barbecue?” Mary raised her voice to be heard over the noise of the espresso machine as she created a sugar-laden balm for my bruised ego and battered mind.

“Not even a little bit.” I leaned forward to fold my arms on the counter with a sigh. “Maybe I'm not cut out for politics.”

“Pssh, stop that right now,” Mary scolded with narrowed eyes. “Are you honestly letting that man get under your skin?”

My nose wrinkled but I refused to acknowledge how true her accusatory question was. Brixton was absolutely getting under my skin. In a matter of days, he'd managed to cover ten times the ground I had. The local newspaper had reported a preliminary poll the day before and the numbers weren't in my favor. To make matters worse, rumors around town claimed he'd rented boatloads of entertainment for the annual Labor Day weekend Back to School party. I suspected the funds for it came from a number of endorsements from local businesses close to his preacher father.

“He’s going to buy up all the support and what he doesn't buy, his father’s reputation will secure for him.”

My latte appeared under my nose and I lifted my eyes to meet her gaze as she spoke. “Keep your chin up. Money can only buy so much, and you’ve done a phenomenal job gaining support already. Have faith, love.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Whyte.” I flashed my best attempt at a smile and gathered the drink.

“When are you going to quit with that Mrs. Whyte nonsense? You dating one of my son’s best friends. That practically makes you family. The least you could do is call me by my given name.”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. Evidently my newly changed relationship status was another thing gaining momentum in the local gossip mill. “Yes, dear. Mary it is.”

In lieu of sitting at the usual table and ruminating on thoughts I had already spun in circles in my head, I opted to take a stroll through town in the hope that it would help clear my mind. The weather was more autumn than late summer, but it was warm enough to enjoy without needing extra layers. That wouldn't be the case for long. Signs for the upcoming Labor Day weekend festivities cluttered the streets and shop windows in every direction. Where I had once felt excitement, I only mustered a sense of defeated dread.

Clouds developed insidiously as I walked in slow motion along the slate sidewalks. It felt telling that dreary weather would arrive in tune with my increasingly low mood, as if the world itself was in agreement with my malaise. Although I shared pleasantries and smiles with the townsfolk I passed on the street, it all felt surface level, like a mask I was using to shield my true anxiety from the people around me. By the time I made it down one side of the road and crossed to work my way back, I had myself well and truly convinced that my chances of succeeding were nonexistent.

No longer interested in window shopping or making small talk, I pulled my phone out and opened up the latest job offerings that would work with my degree. My plan to run for the town supervisor role was an impulsive one. The least I could do was actually prepare for the most likely worst case scenario. As I scrolled through the listings with a heavy heart, my awareness of my surroundings suffered, so it came as a genuinely earth-shattering shock when I ran headlong into one of my friends with none other than Brixton himself on her arm.

“I'm so sorry—Ashley?” I steadied her shoulder on impulse and froze in place as I registered the sight before me. A quick glance to my right revealed her salon, and a glimpse toward Brixton told me he hadn't been visiting for a touch up on his stupidly perfect golden blond hair. Their closeness and his smug smile confirmed my suspicions.

“Elijah… it’s not… well, it is… I was going to tell you.” Ashley searched my face with a devastating expression of apprehension and concern.

I glanced between them and scrambled together as much dignity and confidence as I could. I failed. “You andBrixton?”

“I promise, I was going to tell you—”

“You and the Sheriff?” Brixton interrupted with a sardonic grin. “I could have sworn he was rather emphatic about his heterosexuality back in high school.”

My anger flared despite me telling myself I needed to keep my cool and rise above the bullshit. “We aren't discussing that right now, Brixton.”

“And why's that—”

“Brix, please?” Ashley squeezed his arm as her voice became strained. “It's not our business.”

“Just as our relationship is not his.” Brixton made a show out of bending down to kiss the top of her head. “Shall we be off?”

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