Page 1 of Mended Fences
Chapter One
ELENA
Now, December 2024
Every day,I woke up and chose happiness.
Correction.
Every day, I woke up andforcedhappiness.
In truth, happiness had eluded me for months, despite all I had to be grateful for.
Including my best friend Tessa, who was sitting across from me at The Bean Counter looking devastatingly chic in a burnt-orange turtleneck. Her blonde hair was up in a messy ponytail, and her green eyes sparkled beneath long, mascara-swept eyelashes.
I, on the other hand, wore teal scrubs, hadn’t washed my hair in days, and felt bloated as hell.
But that didn’t stop me from shovinganotherpiece of coffee cake in my mouth.
The Bean Counter was a Sable Point institution, wedged between Callaghan’s—the dingy dive bar where so many of my problems started—and the real estate office on Main Street. Its faded green awning collected snow like powdered sugar. Through the frost-edged windows, Lake Michigan was a steel-gray smudge on the horizon, and its waves churned white beneath a pewter December sky. Inside, the ancient radiators hissed and clanked, fighting against the winter wind that seeped through the original 1920s storefront windows. The little brass bell above the door chimed constantly as the morning regulars stamped in from the cold. The place smelled like it always did—fresh coffee, butter-soaked pastries, and the ghost of wet wool from people shaking snow off their coats.
I’d moved here in April, when the apple trees were just starting to bloom and hope felt as fresh as spring air. It had just started to feel like home when everything went to shit. Eight months ago, I would have told you Sable Point was my fresh start. Now, watching fat snowflakes swirl past the window and pile up on the empty sidewalks, it was my fresh hell.
“This issogood,” I said around a mouthful of the decadent pastry. “Unfortunately, it’s gonna go straight to my ass.”
Tessa laughed but was quick to scold me. “Oh, please. You look incredible.”
If I could have chosen to be in love withher, I would have. She would, without a doubt, have caused me less heartache than the men in my life.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine,” I lied. “Tired.”
Tessa’s green eyes narrowed as she studied my face. “Fine? Really?”
Damn her.No one could read me as well as she could. Except maybehim.
I shrugged, picking at a loose thread on my scrub pants.
“Three more days,” she said.
“Three more days,” I echoed the words on a sigh.
“Do you know what you’re gonna do?”
“Right now, I’m going to go home and go to bed.” My jaw cracked with a long yawn. “I can’t wait to be done with night shifts.”
“It’s good practice.” Tessa beamed.
“That’s true.” I could’ve sworn my wince was internal, but Tessa’s abrupt change of topic had me questioning my poker face.
“How’s the house?”
“It’s good. Coming along.” I’d ditched the little rental cottage I’d escaped to when I first moved to town and finally bought a place of my own.
“Do you need any help getting things set up?”
“No. Thanks, though. It’s keeping me busy. Distracted.” From the memories—both good and bad. From the fear that followed me from Detroit like a ghost.
