Page 5 of When Fate Breaks
I blow out a breath. “Will do.”
“Love you, sis,” Steph says.
“Love you, too. Bye.”
I hear the line go dead against my ear as I slowly stand up, clutching the shirt to my chest.
I wonder…
I throw on a wrinkled crewneck and a pair of athletic shorts I find at the top of another box and slip down the hallway and out the side door leading outside. The warm summer breeze rustles my wet hair, causing goosebumps to prickle on my skin. I cross my arms over my chest as I round the house, slowly approaching the greenhouse. If it was possible, it somehow looks even more hopeless and dilapidated in the nighttime.
I push open the rickety wooden door missing both panels of glass and step inside. Long dead strands of ivy hang pathetically from the ceiling and down the walls. Cracked and crumbling planters sit in lines on the floor and on the tops of rusting metal wire tables. Dirt and mud lay caked into every corner and crevice of the cobblestone flooring.
I imagine Remy’s grandmother spending her mornings out here, tending to her plants and watching the sun rise. A lump forms in my throat. We can’t tear it down. The bones are here, if barely. It just needs a lot of love and attention from someone that knows what they’re doing.
If only you knew someone.
I blow out a breath and lift up my cell phone, scrolling through my contacts. This is so stupid. It’s been years. And I shouldn’t. Not after everything. It doesn’t matter anyways. I’m sure all of my numbers wouldn’t have made it between the transfers of the three different cell phones I’ve had since then–
Blake Di Fazio
I stop scrolling, my thumb hovering over his name.
Shaking my head, I start to lock the phone screen and then look up, finding myself at the far end of the greenhouse, not realizing I had been pacing. The moonlight streams through the few remaining panels of glass, glinting off the stone floor and illuminating the sad scene. Water from this afternoon’s rain slowly dribbles down from the pieces of caved in roof and into the parched plant pots.
It really could be beautiful.
I take a deep breath, ignoring the pinch in my chest, and click the call button.
The phone rings several times, my heart rate rising with each ring. Just as I’m about to change my mind and end the call, I hear a rustling sound from the line.
“Hello?” a husky voice comes through.
I stop pacing in my tracks. “Um, hi,” I stutter. “Is…is this Blake?”
There’s more rustling and the sound of creaking floorboards. “Yes?” the voice confirms hesitantly.
“Oh,” I say, realizing a part of me was hoping it was the wrong number. “Hi. It’s… uh…” I clear my throat. “It’s Annie.”
“Annie?” he repeats, confusion in his tone.
“Yeah, um… Annie Jacks?” I say, my throat tight.
There’s a pause. Several seconds of silence pass. I should just hang up. “Sorry, nevermind–”
“Wait,” he commands.
I freeze, the phone several inches from my ear.
“...Evangeline?”
I swallow against the lump in my throat, the backs of my eyes suddenly burning. “Hi, Blake.”
“No freaking way,” he mutters in disbelief.
“Way,” I whisper, a smile pulling at my lips.
“Wow…” he breathes. A few seconds go by before speaks again. “It’s just been so long…” he continues. “God, how long has it been?”
