Page 44 of After We Fall

My breath crystallizes in the cool air, and I tighten the trench coat belt around my waist.

Yes. I can do this.

It’s Friday morning, twenty-five minutes after ten. Finley’s shift at Safeway started almost three hours ago. She should be going on break soon.

A break that could afford me time to convince her to come back to the ranch.

A break that could give me the opportunity to keep her safe.

A break that could solidify the chance to stay in the only place I’ve felt like I belonged since age twelve.

A break that could help bring about my dream job.

A break that’s loaded with potential, but whose weight bears down on me with such massive pressure, it feels like the dam is going to burst. I strain to hold back the rushing rivers of apprehension, anxiety, and angst. Despite my fortified efforts, doubt forces its way through the cracks to break down my defenses.

It’s just a guess, but I’m betting Finley will head straight to her usual break spot, her beloved bench. Leaning a shoulder against the outside brick wall of the Safeway grocery store, I stare at the automatic sliding doors.

Around the corner of the building sits a patch of grass with a few trees. Some of the employees created a beautiful space. They pooled together a little money, weeded the area, set out some potted plants, and installed a bench that now sits proudly in its own poured cement block. From a distance, the Rocky Mountains offer a friendly wave, beckoning anyone who looks their way to escape to their majesty. Even if just in their thoughts.

Finley is the self-appointed mayor of the break time escape. She chides those who dare smoke a cigarette in the mere vicinity of the blessed bench. With her own money, she purchased holiday decor to stick in the planters. She even asked me to help her create an Excel spreadsheet assigning employees chores to keep up the area. It’s a precious piece of ownership for her in a world that’s left her little to boast about.

And it’s an area she’s headed toward this very second.

The doors slide open, and Finley, staring at her phone, drags through the exit. The grocery store apron peeks out under the fringes of thread from her long, weathered peacoat. Her hair is slightly stringy, skin pale, shoulders hunched over. She appears older than her fledgling eighteen years. Where is the precious girl who bounces her way through life like Tigger on a pogo stick?

A sinking feeling hits me in the pit of my stomach. Am I too late? I waited six days before I made my approach, thinking the time would give Finley space to miss the camaraderie of the ranch. The safety of the ranch. The hope. I didn’t think Marcus would wear her down during the honeymoon phase of her return.

With a quick scan of her face, I can see there’s no sign of physical bruising. But the dark bags under her eyes tell of emotional bruising.

I tamp down my nervousness, push off the brick wall, and straighten my shoulders.

Just a few feet from me now, she still doesn’t see me. She taps something into her phone, pauses, and frowns at the screen.

“Finley,” I call.

She glances up and comes to an abrupt halt. Recognition and relief, with a tinge of resistance, cross her porcelain face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

When she takes a step toward me, she plants a foot in a puddle of water and makes a splash. She shifts her focus to her feet. “What in the world?” Just behind me, a tiny river of water flows from a tall freezer storing large bags of ice for purchase. Intermixed with the water, patches of ice lurk on the concrete in the shade of the bulky metal container. “I told them three days ago to fix this stupid machine. If it floods over to the break patch and ruins anything, I’ll kill someone.”

“How are you, Finley?” I ask.

Vulnerability flashes in her eyes and she crosses her arms, hugging them to her chest. “I’m fine.”

“How are things with Marcus?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No, you’re right. It’s not anymore.” I swallow. “But I care about you. And I miss you.”

“Why?”

My heart hammers, as if it knows I’m about to bare its soul.

“Because I know what it’s like not to be wanted. As a child, I spent time in the foster care system. I know what it’s like to have nowhere to belong.” My words waver, but I clench every muscle in my body, trying to remain statue-still. “And I need to tell you that you’re wanted. You’re valued. Just as you are.”

Moisture glistens in her eyes and a single tear streaks down her cheek, watering the tiny seed of hope I brought to this meeting.