Page 19 of Fly Back to Me
I need you.
I need you to be on this Earth so I feel safe and hopeful that good will always prevail against evil. Your existence remindsme of this every day, and your worth is immeasurable.
Priceless.
Maybe one day I’ll uncover the hero behind his cape and extend my deepest gratitude. But since there is no “thank you” that can suffice for what you’ve done for me, I thought about returning a favor to you.
It’s believed that a white feather drops from the wings of our guardian angels, and I’d like you to accept this feather as a symbol of protection. Just as you’ve protected me. Call me superstitious or foolish, but I think it’s safe to say I believe in lucky charms. Hang it wherever you’d like, and hopefully you’ll always think of me when you see it. Not me personally, but how I think of you. You’ve given me another chance at life and opened my eyes to my worth. It’s only fair I remind you of your value in case you ever forget it.
You’ll always be worthy to someone.
“Damn,” I whisper before leaning forward.
There it is.
I pluck the white feather from the bottom of the box, the pads of my fingers instantly stroking the vanes. Who knew two people’s lives could become so intertwined in a split second?
Every detail of that night crisps in my head. The parking lot I was forced to station my bike in when the bigger lots were too crowded. The credit card machine trouble that added an extra fifteen minutes at the bar. Small mishaps that seemed like bad luck at the time but paved the way for good fortune. I’m the last person to believe in “everything happens for a reason,” but my reservation is starting to blur.
Were we brought together for a reason?
The question reigns in my mind like an eternal riddle.
Chapter 9
Olivia
The amber lighting paints the chocolate wood-paneled walls of the So-Ho style café. I bite off a piece of the brownie I ordered, moaning as the soft fudge melts on my tongue. “Mm. Now this makes recording the weekly transactions in that Venus flytrap worth it.” My eyes flutter in bliss, head jerking my bangs away.
Smooth Brew is always our coffee shop of choice when the three of us are together for a break at work. Sometimes, we just need a change of scenery from the small-town ambience we’re surrounded by every day.
“You should record those daily so you don’t have to be swamped with a million of them on Friday,” Alex suggests, a judgmental brow popping over the frame of his glasses.
I shrug, lifting my hot vanilla latte. “Yeah, but how do I get to caringenoughto do that? Is there a special pill you guys are taking? Viagra for accountants, maybe?”
“Not sure there’s a definite answer there,” Emma pipes upbeside me.
My job as an accountant at Smith and Anderson PC is a good-paying job, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not a passion-paying job. I’m not sneezing at the accomplishment of becoming a CPA, but on the other hand, my father always told me I was never too young to start over if I decided I wanted to. Words that sort of just glued to my heart ever since he uttered them. Maybe he’s the true reason I’m a hopeless dreamer.
As much as I want to live by my dad’s philosophy, it all seems so far-fetched when you’re living in the real world with hefty bills to pay. Now, if I was a character in a novel or film, there could be an ending where I quit my job as an accountant and run after something that lights a smile on my face.
“Oh, there never is,” I say, shifting back in my seat. “I’m twenty-six and still writing mental lists of everything I could be doing instead of accounting. There should be a career guru, you know?” My eyes light up as they bounce from Emma to Alex. “Think about it. Someone you can make an appointment with who tells you exactly what you’re meant for.”
“And if you don’t like their idea?” Alex counters, eyeing me over the rim of his coffee.
I narrow my eyes, shaking my head at his ridiculous challenge. “They’re a guru. They would know what’s best for me better than I would. Lord knows I can’t trust myself. I change my mind twenty times a day.” I sigh, planting an elbow on the white granite as I pout my glossy lips. “I feel like I wasted my college years preparing for a profession that’s a subpar career now.”
“You make it sound like you’re forty, babe,” Emma interjects, her fingers lingering in the soft curls of my high ponytail. “Also, you can always go back to school.”
“Oh, yeah,” I scoff. “Let me just grow money out of my ass.”
“Listen, you’re good at what you do now, and you’re making decent money. Not many people your age can say the same,” sheadds. “And if it makes you feel better, my friend is playing at Bobby’s Place with his band tomorrow night. Live music. Drinks. Small bites. Dancing. You should come.”
I shake my head, sitting up straighter. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve distanced myself from going out late at night.”
Emma peels her hand from me, sighing in remorse. “Fuck, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, Liv.”
My hand rests against my turtleneck, gaping eyes meeting her rueful ones. “No, don’t be sorry. I appreciate the invite, but I’m just not ready to cross that bridge right now. Besides …” I shuffle back in my chair, adjusting the hem of my plaid skirt at the same time. “It’s me, Lauren, and trash TV tomorrow night. Her hermit-like lifestyle has really grown on me.”
