Page 47 of Under the Texas Sky
“I’ll be holding out hope for it. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without your crêpes,” I joke. My voice cracks slightly while I try to fight off the tears.
Hunter’s eyes are glassy too, like now that we’re here, we both know it’s real. We’re breaking up.
“You’ll find a way, and he’ll make you so much happier than my crêpes ever did.”
He squeezes my hand one more time, then leaves me standing by my pick up truck, while he drags his suitcase up his driveway and to his front door. I watch him the whole time as he opens it and puts his bag inside. Then he looks at me over his shoulder one last time before his door swings shut behind him.
???
In: one, two, three. Out: one, two, three. And again.
I’m practicing the breathing techniques Karuna taught me for situations when my emotions feel too big for me to handle on my own. Before, my coping mechanism was drinking. Now it’s breathing and the occasional YouTube yoga class if I have the time. And I do not have the time today. Or the mental capacity to pay attention for that long.
Work has been shit since I arrived at our office two hours ago with two thermoses full of coffee. Adam was waiting on me, even though I was supposed to be off this full week for vacation. The look on his face had disappointment written all over it, but hedidn’t ask and I didn’t offer. I want to lick my break up wounds in peace.
After that first interaction, Adam has been avoiding me like the plague, and I’ve had to answer the phone every five minutes when someone calls asking for an estimate. It’s the middle of winter, so I thought this would be our slow month, but people want fences put up before the spring starts so they can enjoy their yards without their neighbors watching.
I get it, I do. But I’m also about to pull my hair out, since I’m working on a quote for a very high end customer who has to have a certain type of wood or, heaven forbid, the ground will swallow her up.
Add in that after work, I’m going to have to go to Mitch’s and explain why Hunter and I broke up, and I am a recipe for disaster. My brain isn’t focused, my eyes are too hot for my body, and the thudding in my chest where my heart is supposed to be has me pushing away from my desk.
I need to take a walk. I need fresh air. Maybe I’ll call Karuna on the walk and get her insight. Though if I tell her that I broke up with Hunter because I still have feelings for Kian, she’ll be dreaming of beating me over the head with a stick. And I would deserve it.
She knows all of the obsessive things I’ve done over the years. Engraving our initials in the concrete slabs for all of my job sites, every single one of them. My tattoo sleeve, with memories of us. I’ve bought him gifts for every anniversary missed. And when I say every anniversary, I meanevery anniversary.I have cards and love letters for the other major events we’ve missed.Which is borderline crazy, but I always had the hope that he would find his way back to me. And if he did, then I didn’t want to show up empty handed.
Fuck, I am insane.
But that’s what love is. Love is insane, messy, chaotic, empowering. Loving Kian made me my best self, and knowing I had his love and support made me want to do better and be better. When he left, I knew it was my fault. So I worked harder to be deserving of his love.
When I exit the building, I’m greeted with a blast of cool air. Not cold, by any means. Give it a few days and it’ll be so cold, I won’t want to leave my house.
There’s a coffee shop two blocks away from our office, and more caffeine sounds like the answer to all my problems.
The bell over the door rings as I enter, and the warm air feels amazing against my cold cheeks. It’s not too busy, just a few customers milling around while they wait for their drinks. There’s no line, so I approach the barista taking orders. Her bright smile is friendly, and I feel my own lips tip up in a smile.
“Hello, what can I get started for you today?” Her rosy pink cheeks match the pink ribbon tied in her blond ponytail.
“Could I please get a caramel macchiato, hot, with an extra shot?”
She nods and types in my order. “Can I get a name for that?”
I’m about to tell her Trent, but before I get the chance, a voice interrupts.
“Kian. The name for his order is Kian.”
Turning, I’m met with green eyes, framed by dark eyelashes. The eyes that have been a part of my life since I first saw them at sixteen years old.
“Ki,” I breathe out.
His wide smile shows off the dimple in his chin.
I’m so fucking screwed.
CHAPTER 42
TRENT
16 years old
