Page 49 of Ashes of Us
"Are you having a mental breakdown or starting a true crime podcast? Because I need to know which supportive sister role to play here."
I didn't know whether to cry or laugh.
Maya closed the door behind her and stepped over the photos, careful not to step on any. She slid down the wall and sat next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched.
"Megan said you came upstairs two hours ago and didn't come back down. Said some guy came in and you looked like you'd seen a ghost." She picked up the photo of us at the beach, studied it. "I'm guessing this isn't about inventory problems."
"Liam came by today," I said.
The photo stopped halfway to where she was setting it down. "I'm sorry, what?"
"He came to the bakery. Walked right in while I was having lunch with Daniel."
"That absolute piece of shit." Maya's voice went flat and dangerous. "Tell me you called the cops. Tell me Daniel punched him in his stupid face."
"Nobody punched anyone."
"Disappointing." She picked up the photo of us at the beach, studied it. "What did he want?"
"To apologize. To tell me it wasn't my fault." My throat felt tight. "To say he's glad I found someone good."
Maya was quiet for a moment. "And you've been up here looking at photos of when you were happy together."
"Yeah."
"How do you feel?"
I looked down at the photo in my hands. Us at New Year's, young and drunk and so sure we'd be together forever.
"I don't know," I whispered.
And then I was crying.
Not the angry tears from the sidewalk. Not the frustrated tears from the kitchen when I couldn't measure flour. These were something else—deep, wrenching sobs that came from somewhere I'd been keeping locked down for a year.
"Oh, sweetie." Maya pulled me against her shoulder, wrapped her arms around me. "I’m here… I've got you."
CHAPTER 19: LIAM
Imade it fifteen minutes before I had to pull over.
The apartment complex appeared on my right like a ghost. The same brick facade, same parking lot where I used to park my truck next to her car every night. Our building… second floor, corner unit. The windows faced Lavender Creek, and we used to leave them open in summer to hear the water.
I told myself to keep driving. Told myself there was nothing here for me anymore.
I pulled into the lot anyway.
The creek path was right where I remembered it. I walked down to the water and sat on the same bench where Piper used to come to grade papers on Sunday mornings while I slept in. She'd bring her coffee in that chipped mug, the one I'd given her on our first anniversary. The one she'd refused to throw away even after the handle broke and she had to hold it with a dish towel.
The water was lower than I remembered. Or maybe it had always been this shallow and I'd just never noticed.
He seems like a good guy. I'm glad.
I'd meant it when I said it. Watching them through that window, the way he'd stood close but not crowding, the way she'd pulled her hand back and he'd let her…
Yeah. He seemed like a good guy. Better than me, obviously, but then again… the bar was pretty fucking low.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and stared at the creek.
