Page 7 of Fragile Heart

It looks like I’m going to the store. Luckily, there’s one a five-minute walk from here. Everything seems like it’s a five-minute walk, which is convenient but also suffocating. I don’t know how these people do it. How can you live here day in and day out, seeing the same people and doing the same things? Nothing changes and no one wants it to. In LA, I never see the same person twice unless I’m purposely trying to.

I throw on a white T-shirt and sweatpants and grab a black beanie to cover the dark mess of hair on my head. It won’t disguise me as much as my baseball hat, but it’s definitely more comfortable. I’m banking on the store being fairly empty since it’s the first thing in the morning.

Before heading out, I slip on my Nike shoes and grab my phone, wallet, and keys from the counter. It’s a little cooler than I expected this morning, but it's still nice with the sun coming up.

I keep my eyes down for most of the walk because I don’t want to give anyone the idea that I want to talk and only look up periodically to make sure I’m still heading in the right direction.

I’m hit with a blast of cool air as the automatic doors of the grocery store open. I grab a basket and head to the back wall of the store, where I assume the eggs are. I grab a dozen and make sure they aren’t cracked before grabbing a pack of turkey bacon.

I look up at the aisle signs looking for the bread when I hear the unmistakable sound of a shopping cart coming up behind me. I quickly start walking to the aisle I need. I haven’t seen any other customers since I walked in, and I don’t want to start now.

I find the bread I usually get at home and then decide I should probably grab some cereal and milk, just in case. I’m perusing the variety of cereal options when some people on the aisle next to me start talking so loud it’s impossible to not hear.

“Quinn, how are you?” a woman calls out. Quinn? There is no way it’s the same Quinn from the diner, right? But how many Quinns could there be in a town this damn small?

“Hi, Janet. I’m doing well. Keeping busy. How are you? How’s Noah doing in school?” The voice sounds familiar, confirming that it is, in fact, the same Quinn from the diner.

“He’s doing great. He’s got all As right now. We were just talking about how much we were craving some of your pretzel chocolate chip cookies. Next time you make some, make sure you bring ’em on over.” They continue on with their conversation, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m on the next aisle and can hear everything. They don’t seem to care either. It makes me grit my teeth.

What is it about these people that annoy me? No one has been rude since I got here. Not one person has come up to me and asked me for a picture or autograph. I should love that. One of my biggest problems I have back home is that I have absolutely zero privacy. But these people don’t seem to care that I’m here. They’re all just so. . . calm.

“Oh my gosh. That sounds so good. I’ll grab the ingredients and make them tomorrow. I’ll be sure to bring y’all some.”

“Oh, you’re the best, Quinn. Noah will be so excited.”

I can just picture the grin on Quinn’s face because it’s the same smile she had on her face the two times I’ve seen her.

I force myself to tune out the rest of their conversation so I can pick out the cereal I want. I check out the Cheerios and Frosted Flakes before finally deciding on Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I grab the box from the shelf and put it in my basket. I turn and see Quinn standing at the end of the aisle, looking at some sort of flour. She has on black leggings and a loose T-shirt, nothing like the little blue dress she has to wear as a uniform. Her hair is down today, which looks different because I’ve only seen her with it pulled back. It’s also darker than I thought it was. Granted, I didn’t spend much time staring at her hair when she was delivering my food. In fact, I tried not to look at her at all.

Damn it.

Maybe I can slide past her without her seeing me. I keep my head down and start walking, but I should’ve known I wasn’t lucky enough for that to work. As soon as I get close to her cart, her eyes dart up and meet mine.

“Good morning, Hudson.” Ok, so she does know who I am. I know I didn’t introduce myself to her, and I paid with cash at the diner specifically so no one would see my name.

“Jesus, are you everywhere in this town?” Her smile doesn’t fall from her face. In fact, she just shrugs like my words mean nothing to her. She’s so strange.

“Yeah, I live here, so I’m generally around.”

“Shouldn’t you be working?” The whole reason I’m at the store buying breakfast food right now is that I was trying to avoid seeing her at the diner.

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve got the late shift tonight.” Thankfully, I’ll be at the studio tonight, so I won’t need the diner for dinner. “Are you enjoying your time in Blue Mountain so far?” she asks. She leans forward on her shopping cart to show that she’s anticipating my answer.

“It’s not really my style.”

Her smile grows even bigger, like she’s amused at my statement. “Yeah, I figured it probably wasn’t.”

Once she realizes I’m not going to say anything, she says, “If you ever need anything around here, feel free to ask. You know where to find me. My name is Quinn, by the way.” I want to tell her that I know her name because she’s introduced herself multiple times when I’ve been in the diner. Then I remember Vaughn’s words about trying not to be a dick.

I bite my tongue before saying, “Yeah. Thanks.” I think we both know that I would never reach out to her for anything. I can’t imagine there is anything she could tell me about this place that I couldn’t figure out with a quick internet search. “Well. . . bye.”

“Have a good day, Hudson.” I tip my head at her, hating the way she says my name like she knows me. I watch as she goes back to looking at what’s in her hand, deciding if she’s going to buy it. Without wasting any more time, I walk past her to the checkout lanes.

After unloading my things onto the conveyor belt, I look over my shoulder and see Quinn in conversation with an elderly man. Does everyone in this town love her? How is it possible for one person to be so damn friendly to everyone?

The cashier rings up my groceries without saying a word. I know she’s realized who I am, but I don’t look up at her. Instead, I wait in the awkward silence, wondering if there’s anything that makes little Quinn mad.

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