Page 3 of When I Come Back
“You sure you don’t want help closing up?” Ripley asks as he closes the door behind the last employee as they leave. I’m standing behind the hostess stand, elbows planted in front of me with my chin resting in my palms, staring out the window. It’s only four-thirty in the afternoon, and it feels surreal to be turning off our open sign this early. This whole day feels like one big nightmare.
“Yeah, no, I’m good. I think I need a minute alone anyway. Mr. Goldfinch told me he could meet me at his office at five.”Luckily, his office is only an eight-minute drive from Ripple Effect Distillery and Restaurant, so I’ll make it there just in time.
Ripley hangs his head. Like always when I’m upset, he’s having an internal fight with himself about leaving me alone. After a few seconds, he finally nods, knowing I need this time alone rather than a shoulder to cry on—that will come later.
“Okay, but only if you promise to call me as soon as you’re done. And you owe me a night where I actually see you. One where you don’t slip out of my bed the next morning before I’m even awake.”
“Okay, yeah, I promise.”
“I know where you live, Thea Ashford. And I know Goldfinch’s closes at six. Remember that.” He points a finger at me with raised brows, but his tone is slightly teasing.
I roll my eyes at him but know he’s more than serious; he cares too much to let me be sad alone. If I don’t call him by six on the dot, hewillshow up at my place with ice cream and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in hand, banging on the door until I answer.
“Got it. Calling you will be the first thing I do the moment I step foot out of his office. Just know, I may be crying.”
Ripley walks toward me, pulling me into him the second he gets close enough. He’s almost a whole foot taller than me, so his chin sits comfortably on top of my head. The sweet, malty smell of him surrounds me. He’s spent so long working in distilleries he’s started to smell like them. It’s something I’ve loved to tease him about over the last eight years, and he always takes it in stride. Hints of vanilla envelop me as I take a deep breath, the familiarity of it all comforting me for a moment.
“This sucks so fucking much,” he says, his voice bringing me back to our nightmarish reality. His hands hold me up as a sob slips past my lips. I squeeze him even tighter for one more second before pushing his warm body away. Letting him hold me any longer will only end with me truly breaking down.
“Go. I’ll be fine. I promise.” I wipe at the lone tear that escapes down my left cheek, thankful I was able to keep it under control for the most part. I haven’t let myself fall apart yet, and I don’t intend to until all the hard decisions are made.
He gives me a kiss on the top of my head before backing away from me and heading toward the door. With his hand on the handle, he turns around and makes direct eye contact with me. “Six o’clock, Thea.” A sad laugh tumbles from my lips as I nod my head in reply. He slips out of the door, and I bring the heels of my palms to my eyes, applying pressure to the weeping sockets willing them to stop.
I’m grateful I have Ripley. Going through this without him would have left me in a puddle of despair and no way out. He’s my rock, my person. He makes me laugh when all I want to do is break down. I don’t think he realizes just how special he is, and I definitely don’t tell him nearly enough. Losing two people I love dearly has made me realize how precious the ones around you are. It sounds cliché, but it’s made me want to not take what I have for granted.
The second he’s gone, I get up to turn off the lights and shut everything down. It only takes me a few minutes since we weren’t really open today anyway. I grab my purse and head toward the door, stopping at the picture of Owen and Hazel on the wall. It’s from when they first took over this place when it was just Indigo Hill Diner back in the 90s. The place was small but always felt like my second home. The patio that wraps around the restaurant overlooks Indigo Lake. We kept the patio and dock during renovations. None of us could part with it, and sitting on that patio while watching the sunset is something almost everyone in this town can say they’ve done at least once over the years.
I press my index and middle fingers to my lips before placing them on the photo. Another photo hangs right next to it, but it’sfrom six years back when we first started this venture together. Ripley is holding me close to him, his arm around my shoulder, mine wrapped around his waist, while Owen and Hazel are smiling some of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen on their faces. It was the start of something new, something we all believed in.
I exhale deeply before turning around to leave. With Owen and Hazel gone, I need to stay to protect what we built together. This is their legacy, and its future is uncertain.
I’m not sure what I expected when I called Carrington yesterday. I was understandably upset during the call, but I guess I expected more than a ‘thank you.’ I expected some kind of reaction from him despite him proving to me time and time again in the past that he doesn’t talk about his emotions. He didn’t have a great relationship with Owen and Hazel once we got older, but they were still his parents.
I turn the key to lock the door then spin around and try to shove the keys into my purse. They fall from my hand and hit the ground as my eyes settle on the person standing in front of the steps leading up to the door.
Carrington Grant.
Even after all these years, I could spot him anywhere. He stands tall, looking up at the sign hanging above me, with his hands in the pockets of his dark denim jeans, a light gray Henley with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His hair is longer than I remember, pulled into a top-knot, and he’s sporting neatly trimmed facial hair. It looks like he has more tattoos, specifically one climbing up his neck that disappears under his shirt, but he’s still the same Carrington I left in Seattle.
His eyes drift from the sign down to me. My heart stops the second his gaze locks onto mine. His eyes have always been mesmerizing. They’re a deep blue with light striations that look like lightning strikes. I haven’t seen his face in eight years. He might as well be a ghost to me.
After what feels like an eternity, I scurry down the steps, breaking our eye contact, and skirt past him by cutting through the grass. I know I should talk to him. I need to explain what happened here and why this isn’t the place he remembers, but I just can’t. Not right now. Not without breaking down, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen yet. I’ve already got my hand on my car door handle when I hear his footsteps behind me.
“Thea. Wait,” he calls.
His familiar, gruff voice stops me in my tracks. It’s involuntary. Just like yesterday when I heard his deep voice, and everything around me came to a chilling halt.
A moment passes before I find my words, with my back still to him all I can say is, “I... I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m, umm... I’m meeting with Mr. Goldfinch. Unless you… I mean… you should probably be the one. I can call and let him know.” I cut myself off so the rambling stops, slowly looking over my shoulder at him. He hasn’t said another word. He’s just staring at me, and it hits me that he probably hates me.
I’m about to start apologizing again when he finally decides to speak.
“Get in. I’ll drive,” he says as he turns to walk toward what I presume is his car.
“Wh-what?”
“To Goldfinch’s. I’ll drive us.”
In all honesty, this is the last thing I expected. I expected screaming or him telling me to never step foot on his parents’ property again or, better yet, telling me I have no business making funeral arrangements for them. He’d probably be right to say all of that. They aren’tmyparents.
