Page 47 of Saved By the Boss

Tawny’s been my one constant in this town, the first person who didn’t make me feel like a stranger. We’ve been nearly inseparable since the first shift I had at the diner, but I have to admit that our friendship only improved when I finally got to quit that job and work at Ron’s hardware store. She’s always got some quip ready, and I’ve learned to appreciate her bluntness.

“Uh-huh.” She moves past me, grabbing the coffee pot like she owns the place. “Let me guess. You were having a moment. Thinking about how this cabin is your sanctuary, or whatever. You’re so predictable, Jade.”

I laugh, but she’s not wrong, of course. She may not know everything about my past, but she knows me better than anyone else in this small town.

“Well, itismy sanctuary,” I argue, sticking my tongue out at her. “It’s a lot nicer than the apartment above the hardware store.”

She snorts, remembering how we barely fit in that tiny place. Any time we wanted to have a girl’s night, her house was the obvious choice.

“That place was a glorified attic,” she teases. “How did you even survive there?”

“It was still better than LA,” I say, before I can stop myself.

Tawny knows I moved here from California, and I’m sure she suspects it was under less than pleasant circumstances but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I’ve only just stopped looking over my shoulder every time I step out the front door. As much as I love Tawny, I can’t bring myself to tell her the truth. In fact, it’sbecauseI love her that I don’t want to burden her with my secret. If my past did catch up to me, she’d be in danger too.

As always, she doesn’t press me, just fills the pot with water and starts the coffee.

“Fair enough,” she says. “But seriously, this cabin? Way better. I mean, you’ve got actual space now. Look at this kitchen! I’m jealous.”

“It’s notthatgreat,” I say, though I can’t hide the pride in my voice. “But yeah, it’s a big step up.”

The truth is, this cabin feels like a lifeline. When I left LA, I didn’t think I would ever find a place that felt like home again. I spent a lot of time just driving, putting as much space between myself and that godforsaken place as possible. I might have kept driving, but something about this town seeped into my bones when I stopped for gas and a hot meal. Two years later, I’ve actually put down roots. The anxiety that I brought to Colorado obviously wasn’t all gone from my bones, but at least I could breathe a little.

I glance around the room now, taking in the warm light from the fireplace and the wide windows that let in the vast expanses of trees and snow. It’s a world away from everything I’ve ever known, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for anything in my life.

“Do you ever miss it?” Tawny asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Miss what?” I ask, even though I already know what she means.

“LA,” she says. “The city, the people, the—”

“No,” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. I see the surprise on her face and quickly soften my tone. “I mean, no, I don’t miss it. Not at all. This is where I belong now.”

Tawny studies me for a moment, then nods. “Fair enough. I guess I can’t blame you. This place does have its charms, even if it’s a little too boring for me sometimes.”

“It’s not for everyone,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “But it’s perfect for me.”

She glances at the clock on the wall and sighs. “I should probably get back to town. The diner’s not gonna run itself.”

I smirk. “You sound thrilled.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she says with mock enthusiasm. “Can’t wait to spend my morning refilling coffee cups and pretending to care about Mr. Thompson’s bunions.”

I laugh. “Hey, at least it’s a living,” I tease her with the phrase we used to throw around whenever we had a particularly difficult shift.

Tawny rolls her eyes. “Barely. But, yeah, at least it’s living.”

She stands and grabs her coat, pulling it on with a dramatic flourish. “You need a ride back to town, or are you good up here?”

“I’m good,” I say, walking her to the door. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

She nods, though I can see the doubt in her eyes. “All right. But you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” I say, meaning it. “I’ll see you later.”

She waves as she heads down the steps and toward her car, her breath visible in the cold morning air. I watch until she’s gone, then close the door and lean against it, letting out a long sigh.

This cabin is my sanctuary, but it’s also my shield. A barrier between me and the world I left behind. A place where silence is freedom.

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