Page 35 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

I’ve perfected the art of avoiding Ethan. It’s not that hard, really. I time my trips to the store so I leave before he even has a chance to step outside. I keep my head down when I pass his driveway. At the hardware store, I make sure I’m busy in the back if there’s even a hint ofhim walking in.

It’s exhausting.

And worse, it doesn’t help.

Because no matter how much distance I put between us, there’s still that nagging part of me that wishes he’d come find me. That he’d walk through the door, look me in the eye, and say something that would make this whole mess make sense.

But he doesn’t.

And I can’t let myself wait for him.

The silence between Aunt Dotty and me stretches longer with each passing day. Usually, she’s humming, teasing, or telling some story from her past that’s just wild enough to make me laugh. Now, she’s quiet, her eyes full of unspoken questions every time she looks at me.

She knows something’s wrong. Of course, she does. She always does.

I’m halfway through rearranging the display near the front counter when the bell jingles, and Aunt Dotty walks in. I glance up, surprised to see her standing there, hands on her hips and a look of determination on her face.

“Aunt Dotty?” I say, straightening. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she glances around the store, her gaze landing on me with a mix of frustration and concern.

“Close up,” she says firmly.

“What?” I blink, caught off guard. “I can’t just close up. It’s the middle of the day.”

“You can, and you will,” she says, walking to the counter and placing her hands on it. “You need a break, Riley. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the look on her face stops me. This isn’t a suggestion—it’s a command.

With a sigh, I lock the front door, flipping the sign to “Closed.” Aunt Dotty waits patiently, and once I’m done, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward her car.

“Where are we going?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.

“You’ll see,” she says, her tone soft but firm.

We pull up to the cemetery a few minutes later, and my chest tightens. I haven’t been here in months, not because I don’t care, but because it’s hard. Too hard.

Dotty doesn’t say anything as she leads me toward my parents’ graves. The familiar sight of their headstones makes my throat tighten, and I take a deep breath, willing myself to keep it together.

For a while, we stand in silence. Dotty places a hand on my shoulder, her grip steady and reassuring.

“They’d be so proud of you,” she says softly, her voice breaking through the quiet.

“I don’t know how they did it,” I say, my voice cracking. “They made it look so easy, loving each other. Even when things got hard, they never gave up on each other. I don’t know if I’mbuilt that way.”

Aunt Dotty shakes her head gently. “They weren’t fearless, Riley. They were brave. There’s a difference. They faced the risk because they knew it was worth it. You can do the same.”

I swallow hard, my eyes stinging. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” she says firmly. “You’ve built a life here, Riley. You’ve worked so hard, and you’ve done it all on your own. But even the strongest people need someone to lean on.”

I shake my head, my voice trembling. “I’m fine, Aunt Dotty. I don’t need anyone.”

“Yes, you do,” she says, turning me to face her. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Letting someone in doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human.”

The words hit harder than I expect, and I glance back at the headstones, my chest tightening.

“I’m scared,” I admit quietly.

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