Page 9 of Under the Ink

“Fine. But can we get coffee somewhere?”

“Sure.”

While she finished lacing up her boots, Naomi started telling her friend everything she’d told her earlier. “Mr. Karlson came by work yesterday.”

“Mr. Karlson. He taught music, right?”

“Yeah. And band. And he knows I work at the Coffee Stop, because he comes in every Friday morning.”

“Ready?” Ginny asked, pulling a key chain out of her purse, one with dangling hearts.

Probably a gift from Walker.

“More than.”

As they walked out the front door of the old Victorian home into the late spring sun that was way too bright, Naomi let out the air she’d been holding in her lungs. How was it possible to feel palpably better just by leaving a house?

“And you said you’d be workingwitha band?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, as a drum tech.”

“What’s a drum tech?”

Naomi hopped in the passenger side of Ginny’s Subaru and waited until her friend was seated before speaking again. “I only have the most basic idea, but I’d be the person to put the drum set together onstage and make sure everything’s working properly and in the right place. I’d also be breaking it down every night.”

“And you said you’ll be traveling?”

“Yep. All over the U.S., they said.”

“I’m a little jealous,” Ginny said, turning the key in the ignition.

“Don’t be. It doesn’t pay much.”

“Then why are you even considering it?”

“When else am I going to have another paid opportunity to scope out other states?”

“Scope out?”

“Well…yeah. I don’t want to live in Winchester forever. Iwon’t. Youknowthis.” And, as often happened when she reminded herself of the need to escape, Soundgarden’s “Rusty Cage” started playing in her head as background music.

“But…”

“Gin, you’re gonna be starting a family. You won’t have room in your life for me all the time.”

“You don’t know that.”

Naomi wasn’t about to argue with her friend. They’d had this conversation more times than she could count. Ginny loved their small town and wanted the husband, two-point-five kids, dog, and white picket fence. Even if not, the woman had family and friends and wonderful memories of her life there.

Naomi had memories too. Ones she’d just as soon forget.

“Maybe not,” she finally said, mostly to placate Ginny.

“Look, girl, this is the way I look at it. I get married and have kids and then you’ll get to see how awesome life can be. Then you’ll meet somebody you love and get married and have kids of your own—and then we’ll still hang as much as we always did.Exceptwe’ll do it with our families.” When Naomi scowled, she added, “You’d be such a good mom.”

One thing this upcoming wedding had done to her friend was make her look at the world through rose-colored glasses. Because she’d fallen in love, she thought everyone should.

Naomi didn’t want that—not at all—but Ginny’s romantic outlook was so strong, she couldn’t understand. So Naomi simply repeated a phrase she’d said at least a hundred times. “You know I’m never getting married.”

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