Page 6 of Puck Princess

I can’t tell her everything. Not right now. But I do know that, somehow, someway, it’s going to be okay. I’llmakeit okay. For the munchkin.

“I’ll be golden, Kenny. Don’t worry about me.”

When she pulls back, we both sniff and wipe away the tears. “I’m going out with the girls. Do you want to come too?”

“I’m not really in the mood to be a sober fifth wheel. I think I’m just going to pack.”

She studies me, clearly not convinced by my stiff upper lip. But she nods. “Alright. But let me know if you get lonely in your new place. I can come over whenever. We can have girl time and watch trashy TV.”

We hug again before she slips into heels I won’t be able to wear for at least six more months and totters out of the apartment.

Once I’m alone, I get to work. I already cleaned out most of my day-to-day stuff, but I have a few clothing items left in the beefy, solid wood armoire Kennedy let me use as a closet. She bought it on Facebook Marketplace before she realized it was eight-feet tall and one million pounds. She paid as much getting people to move it into her apartment as she did for the cabinet itself.

I open the doors and scan everything. Hanging next to her skimpy dresses and crop top are my work scrubs—won’t be needing those—and jeans that no longer fit. And then, tucked away in the back, is another memory that doesn’t fit quite right.

I pull out the dress and my heart wrenches inside of me like the turning of a knife.

The night of the charity ball flashes through my mind. The way Owen held me close on the dance floor. The way I wanted to kiss him. I’d spent so long on edge because of Spencer and my past, but Owen made me feel safe. For the first time, I felt like I had nothing to worry about.

I never imagined I’d have that kind of security.

And now that I have, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, I don’t know how to want anything else.

I blink back tears and return the dress to the armoire. Maybe it’s yet another thing I should leave behind.

I’m about to close the doors on the armoire and end this bad trip down memory lane when I see several pairs of my shoes on the top shelf. I stand on my tiptoes and swipe three pairs down, but the stilettos are being stubborn.

I grab the lower shelf and leverage myself another half an inch closer. “Come on, damn it. It’s… time… to… go—OH SHIT!”

I let out a shriek as the entire wardrobe falls forward.

I brace my hands on it like I might have, in the last three seconds, gained the strength to hold up a three-hundred pound oak dresser. But it just keeps coming.

I drop to the floor and the armoire hits the footboard of Kennedy’s bed with a sickening crunch. Between me and the bedframe, the armoire is stopped at a forty-five degree angle. But with my shaky arms and the creaking noises coming from the bedframe, one or both of us aren’t going to last much longer.

And when that happens, I’m a goner.

My shriek escalates to a scream. A bloody, murderous scream.

Tears stream down my cheeks.

I’ve survived a lot of things in life, including a car accident that should have been fatal. It’s going to be rather pathetic if my obituary reads, “Callie Coleman was crushed under an armoire full of skanky dresses in an attempt to reach a clearance aisle Steve Madden shoe.”

My arms are losing the battle under the weight. I’m about to scream again when I hear pounding at the door and a muffled voice.

“In the bedroom! Help!”

I yell, and I wait.

The door rattles one more time and then… nothing. They gave up.

This is it. This is how it ends.

Just as the curtains are closing on me, I hear a thud from the balcony and then someone is banging against the sliding door.

A moment later, I hear the prying, grating sound of metal bending. And then?—

“Callie!” Owen’s voice floods into the room and it’s the single greatest sound I’ve ever heard.

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