Page 28 of Under Pink Skies

“Everything alright?” Lucas asked.

“Yes,” I replied as the two of us returned to the cab of the truck, ready to head back to the cabin.

I needed space to think. To remember. To prepare myself for what was to come.

I’d made so many promises in my life. I’d broken many of them.

But this time, I’d keep my promise to Abbie Collins like an oath.

Chapter 9

Abbie

AfterConnorleftthestore, I called Imogen to tell her I was closing the store early, asking if she would bring her produce the next day. She was understanding of my need for space. She always had been. I’d checked in with Dad, who passed out on the bed in his loft. I verified he was still breathing, removed the half-finished bottle from his hand, put a fresh water bottle and a bag of chips on his nightstand, and dumped the remaining liquor down the drain before heading back to my apartment.

I spent the night in the bath, drinking sparkling water out of a wine glass, and scrolling through pictures from high school. I’m not sure why I tortured myself in that way. Seeing Connor’s boyish face was a sharp contrast to the man who had walked into Watford General earlier today.

I frowned when I looked at my teenage self. The girl in those pictures was so innocent. She had the American dream: loving parents, a gorgeous best friend, and a boyfriend who loved her and swore he’d marry her. She had everything in these moments, and she didn’t even known it.

I shut the photo app after scrolling for an hour, when the bubbles had disappeared, and the water had grown cold.

I chose not to cry, even though I knew it was probably necessary. I didn’t want to give those memories that kind of power over me.

I didn’t want to give him that kind of power over me. I couldn’t do that to myself again. I had known love with Connor—full body, cosmic love, the kind I had once believed only existed in movies and novels. I was still pissed that I hadn’t gained more life experience first.

I wish I had known what I do now.

The next day, I texted Imogen, asking if she’d grab coffee with me before we headed to the store. She accepted. As I drove to her homestead, my mind drifted to everything we’d been through over the last few years. Even with her return to Watford and my father’s struggles, we still made time for each other. I was grateful to have such a loyal friend.

I let Imogen out at the street corner in front of Blackbeard Coffee before I pulled up on the curb next to Watford General so we could unload the produce. I had only hauled a few boxes inside before Imogen walked up to the store, two coffees in hand.

“Who is that?” Imogen said, gesturing to a black-haired, bearded man with a backward baseball cap, loading supplies into the back end of Lucy. I didn’t know his name, but after a little, an all too familiar blond-haired, brown-eyed man got out of the driver’s seat.

I swallowed.

“I don’t know who the first guy is, but that second onemightbe Connor Harvey.”

Imogen did a spit take right in the middle of the sidewalk. One passerby jumped back and grimaced. My cheeks flamed red hot as grabbed her arm.

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, pulling her into the store. “I told you I had something important to tell you.”

“Nowhere in that text did you suggest that what you needed to tell me involved Connor freakingHarvey,” Imogen screeched. “I can't believe I didn't recognize that damn truck.”

The front door slammed shut behind her, the sound rattling in the previously quiet space. I put my head in my hands and groaned loudly.

“Now, do you understand why we needed fancy coffee? What the hell am I supposed to do, Imogen?”

Imogen’s face softened.

“I’ll kill him if he comes near you.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s unnecessary. We already talked yesterday.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

My laugh bordered on hysterical.

“I’m trying not to feel anything,” I answered honestly. I pulled one box of produce down from the counter and strode toward the refrigerators and freezers.

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