Rubbing my sweaty palms on my jean-cladded thighs, I take in a deep breath and let out a long one, just like my therapist says I should do when I start to feel like the walls are closing in around me. Like the only place I can escape the pressure is in the darkness of my bedroom.
“I can do this,” I whisper one more time before opening the driver’s side door.
I step out, still not used to the crisp air.
I’ve left our apartment maybe twice since Bennett’s funeral, but time has flown by and suddenly it’s the firstday of December. It feels like yesterday Caleb called me in the middle of the night.
I shake the thought away, needing to keep my head on straight if I want to do this. If I want to keep up with life around me, if I want to put one foot in front of the other—just like Bennett would want me to do.
Caleb didn’t have a choice but to keep moving, having to go back to work with my dad who carried on business as usual, no surprises there.
And that makes sense for Caleb.
He needed to throw himself back into work, get his mind off of it, like those sharks who need to keep moving or else they’ll suffocate.
He calls at least once a week, just like he did before Bennett died, and the conversation is always the same—he asks how I’m doing, and I say I’m fine. I ask him how he’s doing and he says he’s okay. We both know we’re lying to each other, but we both know saying anything else will hurt more.
Jack was given time off from work, deciding to take a leave of absence and spend time at his family’s cabin in a small town a few hours north. He drove up there the night of the funeral, stopping at Lenny’s for a beer and then packing up and leaving. He checks in with a text or two here and there, but he needs space.
I lost my brother; he lost his best friend.
I reach out to pull the door to Lenny’s open. The sun is about to set, the late-afternoon sunset catching me off-guard for a moment before remembering the long summer nights are long gone.
“Luke,” I hear when the door shuts behind me. A familiar gruff voice I’d recognize anywhere. Emmett’s long dark hair is pulled back in its usual topknot, dressedin one of his hundreds of black hoodies with the sleeves pulled up to expose his tatted skin.
“Emmett,” I echo, going to run a hand through my hair but remembering it’s pulled back in a hair tie. “I’m ready to get back to work. I’m grateful to you and the other bartenders for taking my shifts, but I’m ready to come back.”
Emmett doesn’t say anything, just slightly narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.
A few booths and high top tables are occupied, only one bartender needed for the week night shifts. My shifts were the night ones, Tuesdays through Thursdays, and I’m lucky Emmett hired our three bartenders at the end of the summer; otherwise, I don’t know how we would’ve kept this place open with just the two of us.
“I haven’t been covering your shifts,” he grumbles.
“Okay,” I answer, “I’ll be sure to thank Ava and the guys when I see them.”
“You have Annie to thank,” he replies, and my mouth forms a small O-shape in surprise.
Annie been covering my shifts?
There’s no way Emmett would’ve let her do that.
Iwouldn’t have let her do that.
If I knew.
I think back to a conversation I had with her a few days after the funeral, her offering to coordinate all the final inspections, deliveries, and contractors at the coffee shop during the weeks leading up to the opening.
I hate that it’s a blur.
I hate that the last four weeks have been a blur.
“No, I– I didn’t—” I sputter out.
“She’s been handling everything next door too, barely letting us help out beside that fucking coffee bar.”
“What?” I exhale, and I feel like the wind was knocked out of me. “She didn’t have to do that.”
“No shit,” he growls, but he seems madder at Annie than he does at me. “Drew told me she found her here one night last week, so I started taking your shifts. Also said that she’s been next door with any free time she has, only letting the girls help with the social media shit and decorating. I swear, that girl needs her fucking rest during these rotations, not spreading herself so thin she’ll snap in half.”