Page 38 of Big Package

He walked out of the stockroom. A few seconds later, the bell over the front door jingled.

My chest hurt, and I let myself feel it. No lists. No frantic attempt to fix the conversation. No convincing myself it didn’t matter. It mattered. He mattered. That didn’t mean I could do his part for him.

With my appetite gone, I tossed the rest of my sandwich into the trash. Then I went back to work.

The festival was still happening. Customers still needed help. The food-drive bins still needed to be moved closer to the door. My life hadn’t come to a screeching halt because a man walked out on me. That was new too.

Janice had enough sense not to ask where Cole went, though she watched me more carefully than usual. Delaney hugged me before she left without asking whether I needed one, which meant I wasn’t hiding my feelings nearly as well as I thought.

By nine, I’d locked the front door and turned off most of the lights. The wishing tree glowed in the window, hundreds of small wishes hanging from its branches, some written in crayon by kids who had probably asked for ponies.

I started straightening the tags that had shifted. One near the top had come loose. It was Cole’s. I recognized the fold. My first instinct was to put it back without looking. Then it slipped from my fingers and landed open on the floor. One word was written inside in his blocky handwriting.

Her.

I stopped breathing. His wish was me.

A laugh escaped that sounded way too close to a sob. “Idiot.”

I wasn’t sure whether I meant him or myself. Probably both.

I folded the tag along the same crease and hung it back next to mine. Wanting me wasn’t Cole’s problem. He already knew what he wanted. He was afraid to believe he could have it.

My own wish was still folded shut. I’d written four words.

Something I choose myself.

For the first time in a long time, I had done exactly that. Now Cole had to decide whether he was brave enough to choose me back.

CHAPTER 10

COLE

I knew I’d screwed up before I made it halfway home. Knowing didn’t tell me how to fix it.

You don’t get to decide that you’re a mistake before I’ve had a chance to choose you.

She was right. That pissed me off almost as much as the fact that I’d known she was right while she was saying it.

I’d spent years telling myself I was careful. Practical. Realistic. That sounded a hell of a lot better than admitting I was scared. The truth was uglier. I’d gotten good at leaving enough distance that nothing could get close enough to do real damage.

A job had a beginning and an end. People didn’t work that way. People changed their minds. They left. Sometimes because they wanted to. Sometimes because life made the choice for them. Either way, the hole they left felt the same.

My house waited at the top of the drive, porch light on. Quiet. Exactly the way I liked it. I didn’t want to go inside.

I pulled over at the bottom of the drive, shut off the engine, and sat there while the heater lost its fight against the cold.

Emmy hadn’t asked me to marry her. She hadn’t asked for forever after less than a week. She’d asked for the chance to find out what this could be, and I’d acted like wanting me was another bad decision she needed protecting from.

“Idiot.”

My phone buzzed. Janice.

I almost ignored it. Then I answered. “Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“Home.”