Page 35 of Fall Into Me

I would make a list, because listsalwayshelped. I wouldn’t let this town become some overpopulated, overpriced, perfect-on-the-surface and rotten-in-the-middle idyllic getaway.

This place was the only thing I had left that was truly mine.

It took five seconds for my resolve to set in and only one for it to be shaken when I got behind the counter, ready to serve the small line of patrons who were waiting for their coffee and noticed that my jar of cookies—thewhole jar—was missing.

Steam must have been pouring out of my ears because the guy in front of me, who was clearly part of the contractor team Fane was managing, took a small step back and raised his hands.

“It wasn’t me.” He looked like he wanted to turn around and haul ass out of Sunshine.

I plastered on my best smile, which made the guy’s face crinkle in worry. “What can I get for you?” I asked instead, pulling a pen and notepad out from under the counter.

“Just a flat white, please.”

“Sure thing.” I got to work, quickly going through the motions of making his coffee. Losing myself in the familiarity of it.

“So,” the guy said just as I finished steaming his milk. “You’re the boss’s girl?”

I heard him but chose to ignore him for a second while I composed myself and tried not to look like I should be sedated.

There was a decent-sized line now, at least nine people waiting to place an order. That’s when Sammy walked in, her eyes wide at how many people were in the café as well as how another three people had just followed her in.

I was grateful she’d gotten my message this morning after I had a hunch that there would be too many customers for one person to handle for a weekday.

“Hey, Cal.” She smiled before reaching under the counter for an apron, reminding me that I hadn’t even put one on yet.

“Thanks for coming, Sammy.”

“Oh, don’t mention it.” Her smile was warm and kind, the way it always was.

With no way to dodge the question from a man I didn’t even know, I slapped on my cheeriest, most unsettling smile and handed him his coffee. “That’s me!”

12

Fane

Before

“I can’t believe you’ve never played cards. Everyone plays cards,” Cali said. Her bottom lip jutted out, and her eyes went round with concern.

I just watched her. Enchanted.

“Go Fish?” she asked, eyes both wide with disbelief and utterly horrified behind the dainty gold rim of her glasses. I had to press my lips together to stop the laughter.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Fane, this is awful. I feel like you missed out on something important here. Something, I don’t know,integralto every childhood.”

Cali knew all about my upbringing. We’d talked about it more since that first night in my truck. More than I thought I’d ever talk about that time in my life, and not in a way that made it hurt more. We talked about it in a way that made it hurt less.

Made it lighter somehow.

Sometimes, the conversations were serious. Words we exchanged in the darkness of my bedroom where we’d hand over one another’s stories. Where she’d tell me about how her dad used to push her on the swings as a kid, and that was when she learned all her multiplication.

And I would tell her about the time my dad hit my mom so hard I had sat in the corner of our living room for two hours, my eyes unblinking while I stared at her, terrified that she’d never wake up.

She never gave me pity when my past was so completely the opposite of hers. She just held me closer. Made sure I knew that even if I couldn’t see her, she was right there with me in the dark.

When she shared her stories, it wasn’t like she was only relaying them, but like she wasgivingthem to me. Freely, with no strings attached. Letting them become mine as much as they were hers. Stories that gave me something I never had—a past that didn’t hurt to remember.

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