Page 56 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
When her phone buzzed, she scowled at the unknown number. She didn’t think she could handle listening to someone try to tell her who to vote for right now.
After blowing her nose, her loneliness overriding any potential annoyance, she pressed the talk button. “Hello.”
“Kissie? It’s Ryan. From Mystic.”
“Ryan?” If it had been the president himself, she would have been less shocked. “Hi, how are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. I just got done talking to Dawn, and she told me you were on your way to Seattle.”
“You talked to Dawn?” If Ryan and Dawn were having chats, Kissie certainly didn’t know about them.
“I think,wethink maybe you shouldn’t…” She heard him blow out a breath. “Listen, I’m gonna send you something. I want you to see it. I want you to see how he looked when he finally opened up your brochure.”
Kissie’s phone buzzed against her ear, indicating an incoming picture.
“Okay,” she said, her voice wavering, palms sweating. “Hold on.”
Pulling her phone away, opening the message Ryan had sent, Kissie had to slam on her brake pedal to make sure her car wasn’t moving because she was shook. In the picture, Trig was looking at her brochure, crying, a big fat tear rolling down his cheek into his beard.
“You knocked it out of the park, Kissie,” Ryan said. “Everything you did, it’s amazing. You’re, like, Trig’s guardian angel or something.”
“People don’t usually hate their guardian angels, Ryan.”
“He doesn’t hate you. Those tears? That’s him following rule number one. Crying is strength, right? And rule number two? I’ve never seen him eat so many cupcakes. He’s inconsolable. He’s heartbroken. He’s like this not because he hates you, but because he loves you.”
“He is?” Kissie asked, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes again. “He does?”
“And he’s listening to Taylor all day long. Please call him or text him or whatever you have to do to make it stop. I can’t take it anymore.”
Before Kissie could respond, Ryan hissed, “Shit, here he comes.” And then, “Jesus Christ. Was that a fucking bear?”
“What?” Kissie gripped the phone more tightly. “Ryan, what’s going on?”
“I gotta go, Kissie. Drive safe, okay. And Dawn and I both think you should come back so you and Trig can get married and have a hundred babies. And we’re always right. Rule number seven, Kiss.”
“Who are you talking to?” Kissie heard Trig say right before Ryan ended the call.
Numb and confused and completely overwhelmed by a million competing emotions, most of which she couldn’t even name, Kissie pulled back out onto the interstate. Gripping her steering wheel, she pressed on the gas while snowflakes fell onto her windshield.
At first, she thought she must be imagining it, the faintest sulfur hot springs smell drifting through the air. But as it grew stronger and stronger with each passing mile, like an unrelenting reminder of everything she was leaving behind, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
TRIG
(TWO HOURS EARLIER)
Popping the cap off a beer, Trig slid it absently down the bar towards Ryan.
“Dude, this is a lager.”
“Yeah, so?” Trig mumbled. “It’s breakfast beer, and it’s free. Drink it or get out.”
Ryan slammed the beer on the bar, drawing surprised gasps from Pudge and Betty sitting beside him. “She’s been gone for two weeks, Trig. When the hell are you going to snap out of it?”
Never, Trig thought.
There hadn’t been a single second he hadn’t thought about her since she’d left. He hadn’t even been able to open the package she’d sent him even though he knew how important it was. He’d sat with the envelope in his lap for three nights in a row, staring at it. Every time his fingers moved to the seal, his heart rate spiked and his left eye twitched uncontrollably until he put it back down again.
Pudge cleared his throat. “Trig, I know this isn’t the best time, but we need to talk.”
