Page 50 of When You're Gone
Jake: Yeah, but when you’re the manager of the hottest bar in town AND your birthday falls on a legit holiday, you’ve gotta plan for Cinco De Drinko well in advance.
She rolled her eyes and picked up her boarding pass. Jake sent another text before she had a chance to reply.
Jake: I’ll text Field and tell him to bring chips and dip. We’ll make a whole night of it.
She sighed in relief. This weekend wasn’t going as planned, but at least it wouldn’t be a total wash. A fun night with her friends would provide a good enough distraction tonight. Then tomorrow she’d figure out her schedule and start coordinating plans with Quinn.
Tori: Thank you.
She didn’t need to say more than that. He knew.
Jake: I got you. It’s sunny but chilly at home. It’s a hot tub night for sure.
Tori: Sounds perfect. Text me when you’re off work.
Jake: Fly safe, baby.
She made the turn onto her street and flipped down the sun visor as she squinted to see the road. It had turned out to be more than a decent afternoon in Northeast Ohio, the sky clear, the sun bright. She had several hours to burn before Jake would get off work and the guys would show up at the Wheelers’ house, so she figured she might as well go home and fill a few boxes.
Since making plans with Jake, she felt a little less sad, and now she was borderline excited about the prospect of margaritas and hot tub time. She had texted Rhett to let him know she had landed safe, but he hadn’t responded yet. She knew he wouldn’t… she assumed it was actually Quinn who saw her message come through, considering her husband was busy doing whatever CEOs do at a corporate retreat. Knowing his assistant was the gatekeeper of his time and attention today—and most days, really—left her with a begrudging sense of resentment.
She’d have to get over that, and fast. She’d need Quinn’s help soon enough now that she was committed to the idea of coordinating plans and making up some sort of schedule.
She sighed when she thought about another afternoon surrounded by cardboard boxes. Rhett had offered to hire someone to pack up the house, but it wasn’t really something that could be outsourced. It was a slow and burdensome job that required her to make decision after decision she didn’t want to make. Her dad was essentially downsizing. He wanted next to nothing, save for his own clothing, personal items, and those damn Pyrex dishes.
In addition to being displaced from her childhood home, she was also tasked with sorting through all their possessions. She had to analyze everything, then decide if she wanted to keep it and haul it over to the Wheelers’ house, take it up to the cabin, put it in storage for now, or just get rid of it.
Every single item.
Every single memory.
Everything her mother had ever touched categorized into one of four piles. Little mountains of sorrow littered throughout the dining room and the spare bedroom upstairs.
What would her mother have done? What would she want Tori to do? Every decision felt like the wrong one.
The start of a tension headache tingled between her brows as she depressed the brake to turn into the driveway.
Maybe she would take a nap before trying to tackle an afternoon of packing. Yes. She’d chug a glass of water, enjoy a quick nap, take Penny on a walk, then try to pack at least three boxes before Jake and Fielding came over tonight. She felt better now that she had a plan.
The feeling didn’t keep as her eyes landed on the obstruction in her front yard. Right there—in the middle of a sad patch of wilted, early spring grass—was a for sale sign.
She slammed on the brakes in the middle of the driveway, her mouth agape as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She had slept at the Wheelers’ house all week, but she had crossed through their backyards early that morning to grab a few things and get Penny situated. It hadn’t been there when she left for the airport that morning, had it? Surely she would have noticed it then.
She took her foot off the brake without conscious thought and felt her Camry roll back a bit on the gradual incline of the driveway. She slammed her foot back down, put the car in park, and grabbed her overnight bag from the passenger seat beside her.
Screw parking her car. She couldn’t wait for the garage door to open. She just had to get inside.
The house was empty. Her dad was either at work or already at Tricia’s. Penny came scurrying to greet her, so she knew he wasn’t gone for the night. She had no interest—no tolerance—in seeing him anytime soon. She had to get out of here.
She fished her phone out of her pocket and paused. Rhett still hadn’t responded to her last message, so she knew he wasn’t near his phone. She snarled at the idea of his assistant judging her for the kind of text she was desperate to send.
It would be hours until Jake got off work. Tracking him down at The Oak meant she’d have to go back out to the driveway to get there.
Any aspirations of packing had become null and void the moment she saw that sign. If her dad could list the house and pound a stake into the front yard without mentioning anything to her, he could pack up the damn house himself.
She kept her shoes on as she strode toward the stairs. She’d just grab a bathing suit, get Penny, and go to the Wheelers’ house now. She couldn’t stay here. Not alone. Not like this.
She shot off a text as she threw a bathing suit and a fresh change of clothes into her already-packed overnight bag. That would hold her for a few days.
