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“Not the concern I was expecting but okay.” Brent laughed before continuing. “We’re going to have to up the ante on your campaign efforts.”
“We’re already doing so much.” I groaned and flopped backward into the bed before plopping the phone on my chest. “What more could I do? This is already getting expensive.”
“We'll do fundraising. We’ve got four weeks still, right? The vote is at the end of September.”
“Yeah, but he’s always been the most popular. I'm so screwed.” My mind flashed back to countless memories from high school—Brixton becoming team captain of every sports ball game that existed. Brixton becoming Student Council President. Editor ofthe newspaper. Lead of every drama club production. So on and so forth. Will and I had always grumbled about Windhaven’s golden boy and now it was happening all over again, but Will wasn't here to listen to me complain. Selfish? Yes. But I really wanted him here, so this just added salt I didn't need to the wounds that weren't as healed as I thought they were. Unfortunately, William Doherty was in possession of an amazing, but regrettably not a magical healing dick.
“We’re going to figure this out. You can’t give up now. Last night went amazing. You've got this, E.”
“Maybe. Thanks for letting me know.” I sighed at the ceiling quite dramatically.
“Let’s all meet later at Sips.”
“Three sound good?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Love ya, Brent.”
“Back atcha,” he mumbled softly before a click ended the call.
I laid there for a while, contemplating the plain white plaster of the ceiling as I swung my phone back and forth between my finger and thumb, dangling it over my chest as if I could somehow will my boyfriend of less than twenty-four hours to telepathically sense not only my desire to talk to him but also my reluctance to make the first move. With zero chance of falling back to sleep and dwindling hope over hearing from Will, I dragged myself out of my bed and resigned myself to showering and getting on with my day.
Unfortunately, I had a lot of time to kill and too many thoughts swirling in my head to make sense of. Will. His dad. My campaign. My new opponent. Mindless chores and preparing for upcoming appearances could only do so much to keep me from growing antsy. Eventually, the monotony of it all drove me stir crazy enough that I decided to head to the cafe a full hour earlier than planned. If I didn't get out of the house and distractmyself with some form of external stimulation, I'd do something reckless and needy or fall even deeper into a spiral of dread and doubt.
As soon as my tires hit the asphalt, my mood lifted. I loved this stretch of country road. Frankly, it was a major part of my reasoning for the location of my little cottage. Rolling hills and winding curves cut through the fields and forests I'd adored all my life. The fact that there was evidence of the imminent arrival of my favorite season of all was even more of a morale booster. Upstate New Year was renowned for its autumn splendor and the hints of it filled my chest with anticipation. The leaves of the low-hanging canopy framed the road with a subtle rose gold hue, the fields were tinged yellow and glowed with gilt halos in the warmth of the afternoon sun, and overhead, the bluebird skies were home to faint wisps of clouds that skated overhead with a crisp breeze that was rich with scents of the earth. Truly a ten out of ten day, I found myself less and less prone to worry and doubt the farther I drove.
My excitement grew exponentially as I slowed my speed and crossed the bridge into town. I wasn't the only one excited about the arrival of autumn—townsfolk were busy adorning the streets with all the classic décor to welcome the season. Dried corn stalks and richly-hued wreaths of multicolored corn and autumn leaves decorated numerous storefronts along Main Street. I smiled at the assortment of gourds and pumpkins that stood in clusters on hay bales in front of a number of the establishments. Before long, I knew banners and flags and signs for the annual October harvest festival would join the lush colors already on display.
Snacks-and-Sips was no exception. I nudged into a parking spot along the slate sidewalks and paused to admire the quaint corner cafe. Mrs. Whyte had outdone herself. The window boxes were overflowing with a rainbow of mums, ornamentalcabbages, sheaves of wheat, and miniature pumpkins and gourds in colors I'd never seen before. Garlands of bittersweet and vibrant maple leaves hung over all the windows as well as the door, which was surrounded by stacked straw bales displaying larger pumpkins among potted mums. Tiny bistro tables topped with little lanterns and autumnal bouquets lined the sidewalks on both sides of the establishment. If you searched Pinterest for autumn cafes, Snacks-and-Sips would have been the most popular hit.
After climbing out of the car, I inhaled the delightfully aromatic air and proceeded to the door with far more pep in my step than earlier. The merry little jangle of the bell overhead announced my entrance to the warm interior of my favorite hangout in all of Windhaven. The display cases were full of seasonally themed treats and old classics, the air was ripe with the aroma of fresh mulled cider, and the prolific country chic decor was accentuated by even more festive fall extras. Thankful for a lull in the crowds, I moved through the tightly packed tables and chairs and couches before coming to a stop at the massive wooden farm table that served as the counter of the shop.
“Oh, Elijah! So good to see you. Please tell me, is our poor Will holding up all right?” Mary, the current owner of the generations-old establishment, looked at me with an expression rife with concern. My heart beat in triple-time as I registered the implication of her question.
“All right? Did something happen?”
“Oh… oh, goodness gracious. I thought you'd have known. You and Will seemed so close last night.” Her lips pulled into a thin line as she leaned over the counter to continue in a quieter tone. “It's been the talk of the town all morning—Will’s father was in a car accident last night. They had to take him up to Albany Med.”
I physically felt the blood drain from my face as her words sunk in. I knew something had happened, but I had no idea it was that serious. Not only was I flooded with worry, but there was a heaping dose of guilt right alongside it. Before I could register my actions, I had my cell in hand and placed a call to Will. It rang and rang and rang before switching to voicemail as my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.
“Will Doherty. Leave a name, number, and brief message and I'll return your call as soon as I can.”
“Hi… hey. It's EJ. I wanted to see how you were doing. I just heard the news. Um, call or text when you can. Okay… yeah… bye.”
I ended the call and stared at my screen, deflating with a sigh. How could I be such an idiot to let myself fall into the cycle of doubt and insecurity after the night we shared together? A scowl twisted my features as I berated myself for being so selfish and shortsighted.
“Here, love. It's on me today.” Mary’s voice broke through my self-flagellation and drew my attention back toward the counter. Her pitying smile and warm, knowing gaze had me feeling like my every thought was on full display. Movement caught my attention and I looked down to find her pushing a caramel latte across the surface of the table.
“Thanks, Mrs. Whyte. I'll let you know if I hear anything. I'm sure Cam is worried too.” I gathered the drink and tried for a smile that I knew didn't reach my eyes.
“He is. He's stopped by four times already today to see if I heard anything more through the good ole Windhaven rumor mill.” She reached out and patted my arm. “We’ll all be there to help him however we can. Try not to fret—your face will stick like that.”
A soft huff of breathy laughter escaped my lips as I thanked her with a nod and retreated to the table my friends and I alwaysclaimed as our own. My worries and woes and wistful thoughts distilled into one singularly focused pinprick of concern as I stared into the artfully swirled heart shape in the top of my beverage. I couldn't find a single care for anything besides Will and the unknown but surely terrifying things he must be dealing with. I didn't care about the campaign, or Brixton, or even our tenuous tiptoe into a relationship. All I could think about was him. He'd lost his mom to a car accident just a few short months before our friendship deteriorated over a stupid kiss and a metric ton of miscommunication over it. Now, his dad was in the hospital after a car accident and again, I couldn't be there for him the way a friend was supposed to be, let alone a boyfriend. It was a sobering and saddening realization.
“Elijah, oh dear. It's not that bad. We’ll figure it out.” Lionel startled me from my melancholic thoughts as he slid a chair closer and promptly coiled himself around me. “You're a better candidate than that silly Brixton man. You're going to win. Chin up, sweetie.”
“It's not… it's not him.” Despite myself, I melted into the comfort of Lionel’s embrace. “Will’s dad’s in the hospital. I just found out.”