Page 74 of Dearly Unbeloved
I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours lying in the bunny enclosure, after dragging a bunch of pillows and blankets in here. The couch and beds remind me too much of Sierra, and I’m well aware of how pathetic that makes me. But the bunnies are good company, and they’ve barely left my side since I clambered in. I like listening to their feet thudding against the rug as they hop about, their happy little crunches as they chomp away at their hay and greens.
Have they noticed Sierra isn’t here? She told me that rabbits bonded so strongly they could die from broken hearts and, right now, I get it.
It’s not just that Sierra’s gone. I was prepared for that, as much as I could be, anyway. She made her plans to move out once she got her inheritance clear from day one, and I knew convincing her to give us a chance was a shot in the dark. But I don’t understand how she could just… go.
Did I mean so little to her? There was no time to ask her to stay, no answers for closure. There’s just nothing. I wish she’d just broken my heart instead of leaving it to linger in this hollow purgatory. I wish I’d said something when I first realized I had feelings for her. I wish, I wish, I wish.
I grab my phone and pull up her contact. She hasn’t turned her location off yet, and I fell asleep clutching my phone, her little location dot blinking on my screen until the battery died. She stayed at a hotel last night, clearly so desperate to get away from me that she couldn’t even wait to find an apartment. Her location dot didn’t stray all day, but it’s on the move now.
I watch as she walks into The Weather Vane, a bar near her office. I know she, Jazz, and Cal sometimes go there for lunch, or meet Maggie and Liam there after work, but it’s Saturday.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m peeling myself out of the nest I’ve built, throwing some food at the bunnies, and dressing in a hurry. I throw my hair back in a messy ponytail before jumping in my car and speeding downtown.
I park in the Michaelson and Hicks parking garage, using the key fob Cal gave me, and a few minutes later, I’m standing outside the door to The Weather Vane. I don’t have a plan; I haven’t considered what to say; I just need to talk to her.
Saturdays are busy in Downtown Seattle, so I don’t see her when I first walk in. I hover by the bar until a bartender with bubblegum-pink hair spots me.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Oh. Um, I’m just looking for someone, actually.”
She tilts her head, squinting. “I know you. You’re Jazz’s sister, right?”
“I am,” I say, frowning suspiciously. “Have we met?” I’m sure I’ve never seen this woman in my life.
“Oh, no. But when Jazz gets tipsy, she tells anyonewho’ll listen about everyone she loves—with pictures. It’s cute, actually. Besides, you have exactly the same eyes.”
Huh. My heart thuds a little, the first sign of life I’ve felt in a while. “I’m looking for Sierra, who she usually comes in with?”
The bartender’s eyes light up in recognition. “If you go around to the right, she’s in the booth in the back corner.”
I push away from the bar because if I wait too long, I’ll lose my nerve, but the bartender keeps talking: “She’s on a date. Total smoke show, if you ask me.”
Every sound in the bar fades to nothing. All I can hear is the rushing of my own blood as it drains from my face. “She’s on a date?”
Realization dawns on the bartender’s face. “Oh god. Shit. I didn’t… I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, it’s not… It’s okay.” It feels like someone else is talking. Like I’m outside of my body, watching as my heart shatters.
The bartender offers me a drink, and she offers to call Jazz for me when I decline, but I’m already halfway out of the door.
I collapse against the wall outside, breathing hard. She’s on a date. She left me one day ago, and she’s on a date. I can still feel the ghost of her fingers in my hair as she kissed me goodbye before work yesterday, and she’s on a fucking date.
The stone wall is freezing against my back, and I suddenly realize I didn’t bother with a jacket. I push off the wall and start back toward the parking garage. I don’t want to go home, to the silence, and the reminders that Sierradoesn’t live there anymore. The bunnies are amazing, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the night scrolling through my phone with only them for company. Sierra stormed into my life, changed me until I didn’t want to be on my own anymore, and then left.
With shaky fingers, I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up Jazz’s contact info. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey. Did you know snails have teeth?”
The greeting is so unexpected, but so perfectly Jazz, that it draws a sound from my throat that might have been a laugh in another life. “What?”
“Yeah, like legit teeth. They can fully chomp things. And they’re not as slow as people claim, you know. They make excellent pets.”
“We are not getting a pet snail, darling,” I hear Liam say in the background, and Jazz huffs.
“We’ll see. Anyway, what’s up?”
“Um.” I have no idea what to say, but I don’t have to. Jazz must hear that there’s something wrong in that one syllable.
