Page 4 of Passing Notes

Or like my ex, Chris, who dumped me for requiring respect and basic human decency—like, why is a good morning text such a dang big deal? Was acknowledging my existence that hard?

I deserved to have a break from the stresses of life, which I found were almost always caused by an entitled, stupid man.

I deserved to have some Zen and inner peace, damn it.

I needed a fresh start.

But how many “fresh starts” can one woman have?

At what point should I pack it in and just commit to a lifetime of solitude? Maybe I should continue living off my savings and hide out in this house for the rest of my life. I mean, I could certainly afford to do so. It’s not like there were men waiting around to hit on me in my pantry, dang it. I was safe from temptation in here.

I paced a circle around the kitchen island like a lion in a cage, growing more frustrated when I finally acknowledged what had really set me off.

It wasn’t men.

I could handle men.

Hell, I’d been handling idiot men and the various messes they’d brought into my life since I was a kid.

It was one man.

The truth was my mood had shot to hell when Gracie stepped to the side and I saw Nick Easton’s head pop up in the window of that stupid truck.

Nick was different.

He had always been the exception to every rule I had ever made for myself, the main one being to stay away from men.

He’d broken my heart a long time ago and I’d never quite managed to put it back together right. It pissed me off how much it hurt to see him after all this time. So far I’d managed to avoid running into him in town, and I had wanted to keep it that way.

My heart lurched in my chest, and I flung my keys across the kitchen as I slammed my eyes shut and tried to force out the memories his presence this morning had awakened in me.

He was my first love. My first everything. He had held me together after my dad left. Nick had loved me, comforted me, and treated me like a princess. When I was with him, for the first time in my life, I had felt like I was worth something. So in return I gave him my whole entire heart, along with my body and soul. I trusted him with everything I had to give and confided in him my deepest feelings. He was one of the few people I’d allowed to know the real me. I hadn’t been the same since I lost him.

Mindlessly, I prepared a pot of coffee and continued pacing the kitchen as it brewed. Caffeination and distraction were the name of the game for me lately.

I found my favorite self-help podcast and mentally prepared to zone out. By now, I had it memorized; it always gave me a mood lift. It was either listen to this woo-woo bullshit or start plotting some murders.

“Focus your breath and quiet your minds. Let us manifest a positive outlook together...”

I inhaled a deep breath then let it out alongside a burst of rage as my thoughts swarmed with images of Nick and me together. How could I manifest anything when there was not a single speck of serotonin left rattling around in my brain and a dopamine hit was nothing but a distant memory?

I filled my huge travel mug with coffee, dressed it up with hazelnut creamer, and stalked outside. My favorite coping mechanism of late was to sit on my porch and watch the neighborhood as I worked on my knitting, took care of my plants, and performed a live reenactment of Rear Window—except my injuries were all mental, unlike good ol’ Jimmy Stewart in his wheelchair. I felt like the captain of my own little ship, cruising along while I watched the world go by. Safe and sound—and alone—with all the comforts I needed right inside my house.

Watching everyone else’s lives go by as I let mine fade into a lonely and boring oblivion was the only thing keeping my finger on the pulse of humanity. It was either this or embrace rock bottom and become a full-on hermit.

This is how busybodies are made.

Speaking of busybodies, I glanced down the block, waving at Mr. Neal as he got into his old Buick to drive to the high school. He was ancient and had been the librarian at Green Valley High for decades.

Yeah, I see you, you bitchy little troll.

He’d never liked me or any of my sisters, like it was our fault our circumstances were bad as kids. He used to call us trash whenever we went to check out books. He was judging me right now; I could see it in his holier-than-thou sneer as he waved back to me. Like, how dare I be able to afford a house better than his? But I didn’t really care since I judged him back just as much for being mean to three girls who just wanted something to read to help them escape their shitty home life.

I shook the thought off. I did not need that kind of negativity at the moment, thank you very much. Not when I was barely hanging on by a thread.

Rationally, I knew I had options, but I was not in the mood to see reason. Logic was for people with motivation, goals, and the will to make life changes. I was fresh out of all that stuff. Chris had stolen most of it when he left, along with the bulk of my pride. And Nick had taken the few remaining shreds of that this morning.

Okay, I admit it. Being alone sucked.