Page 18 of The Accidental Text

“Well, I better … get back to work,” I say. “Give me a call when you’re leaving, Robin.”

What just happened?

Later that day after most of the staff has left for the night, I sit in my office and stare at my phone.

I called Hannah after Robin unknowingly stole my lunch date, and she lectured me for three minutes about how I’m going to miss my chance and how right she was and blah, blah, blah. Then she had to hang up really fast when her mom caught her on the phone. Sometimes Hannah working for her mom makes me feel like we’re teenagers again.

Right now, I’d be texting my mom, telling her about my day. Venting about my feelings. Instead, I’m sitting here staring at my phone, feeling like there’s no one I can talk to. I was getting so much off my chest with those texts to my mom. And now … now who do I have? My family is dealing with their own grief, in their own way. There’s Hannah, of course, but it feels like she’s not really getting it. How could she? She has both parents still, even if her mom and dad are divorced and her dad lives in California.

I feel like I’m in a big sucky club for one.

I hear a throat clear and look up to see Devon walking into my office.

“What’re you staring at so intently?” he asks, with a chin dip toward my phone.

I put it facedown on my desk and lean back in my chair. “Nothing,” I say.

He walks in, doing that Devon swagger he does, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, and takes a seat at the chair in front of my desk.

“I’ve been tasked with checking on you,” he says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Checking on me?”

“Chelsea.” He only needs to say one word.

I wrinkle my brow. “Why is Chelsea having you check on me?”

That’s so Chelsea. Delegation is a strength of hers. She’s so good at it, she sometimes delegates delegation.

Devon shrugs. “She thinks you’re … having a hard time with things.”

I give Devon a confused look. “Aren’t we all having a hard time?”

The corners of his mouth lift up just slightly. “Yeah, but … you know, with the jump and stuff. She’s just worried about you.”

Ah, the jump. Yes, I’ve been trying not to think of it. It’s not until May, anyway. There’s really no need. Also, when I do think about it, nervousness creeps up my spine and my heart picks up its pace. Just a little, but it’s enough to make me think maybe I should justnotthink about it right now. Of course, there’s also another nagging part of me that keeps telling me I need to figure myself out now, before it’s too late.

For right now, I’ll go with avoiding. It’s serving me.

“Are you worried about me?” I ask Devon.

He looks at me and shrugs one shoulder. “Not really. You know Chels.”

I do know Chelsea. The thing is, she’s not far off. I’m not doing so well. I thought I was covering it up … faking it until I make it.

“I miss her too,” Devon says, leaning back in his chair, looking over to the side as he does. Devon doesn’t do eye contact while talking about profound things. I think it might be too much for him.

“I know,” I say.

One of the things that’s gotten me through this is my family. I thought we were pretty close before, but now we have this whole new bond. It’s a shared grief, a shared comfort that we’re all experiencing this together.

Which is why it makes no sense that I feel as alone as I do. It’s just that I never relied on Devon or Chelsea to discuss my feelings, as close as we are. That’s always been my mom’s job.

But maybe if I tried …

I look at Devon. “I don’t feel like myself.”

He just nods.

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