plant a kiss on Elliott’s lips? “Just talked to Dad,” Shea said to Ivy. “He said to call him about some business question.” She turned back to Owen. “And he said yes to the extra moola we need!” Owen and Shea bumped fists over the news while Ivy secretly wondered why her father would say yes to more funding when he was already facing so much financially.
She slipped away while their attention was diverted, climbing the stairs to her room, fighting to retain control in spite of what seeing Owen, and Owen and Shea together, stirred up. She should have known better than to run back to her family. Because dealing with her family was turning out to be no easier than dealing with Elliott.
The feeling of being alone closed in on her once more.
She flopped down on her bed, looked at her pillow, and felt suddenly bone tired. She curled up and attempted to shut out the world, closing her eyes to block the images of the day: her mother in a granny gown, the deserted stretch of beach, Shea kissing Owen, and a bedraggled collection of bare branches that were supposed to somehow pass for a wishing tree. Just before she fell asleep, she thought of her answer on the beach: she was there to find out how to stop feeling so alone. Somewhere at Sunset was the answer to that question.
When she awoke it was dark outside. She looked around for the time, confused about whether it was evening or early, early morning. Maybe she’d slept for hours and hours. She sat up, groggy and disoriented. Maybe she’d slept for days.
Her prepaid phone told her it was after 8:00 p.m. Her stomach rumbled. She’d never eaten lunch and had slept through her normal dinnertime. Never one to miss a meal, she got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, wondering if her mother had cooked. On the way down she grabbed her laptop and decided to see if anyone had emailed her new email address while she ate. She found a handwritten note from her mom that said she and Shea had gone shopping and that there was some soup warmed up on the stove.
She helped herself to a bowl and crumbled saltines over the top. Balancing her bowl and spoon along with her laptop, she set up her meal at the island, taking a seat at the same barstool she’d sat on that morning. She opened her laptop and logged in to her new email account but found not one email.
She slurped her soup and closed the email account page, feeling a little bereft at the thought of all the emails she was missing. And yet, this was what she’d wanted: a nice clean break. She stared at her screen saver, a photo she’d taken of the stream that ran by the cabin she’d lived in when she first moved to Asheville. April! She’d not talked to her at all! She was probably going crazy wondering. Ivy ran upstairs, grabbed her phone, and raced back down. She took another bite of soup while she dialed April’s number.
“Hello?” April answered the unfamiliar number with a question in her voice, probably expecting a prospective renter for the cabins.
“Hey, it’s me, Ivy. I cancelled my other phone because Elliott kept calling it, so I’ve got this prepaid deal for now.” She waited for April to respond but heard only silence. “I’m sorry for getting angry earlier,” Ivy added.
“Glad to know you’re alive.” April’s voice was flat in response. Ivy knew she was still hurt over the way she left things.
“Sorry,” Ivy said again. She would have to rely on grace from her friend and play on her sympathies, hoping that deep down April understood why she pushed her away and fled. “After you told me about Elliott, I just … ran. I couldn’t put enough distance between us.”
“So you drove until the road ran out?” There was a hint of April’s humor.
Ivy envisioned herself doing that—just driving until the car dead-ended at the shore. “Something like that,” she said with a smile.
“But really? Going back to them? Was that really smart or just salt on the wound?” April had stood
She slipped away while their attention was diverted, climbing the stairs to her room, fighting to retain control in spite of what seeing Owen, and Owen and Shea together, stirred up. She should have known better than to run back to her family. Because dealing with her family was turning out to be no easier than dealing with Elliott.
The feeling of being alone closed in on her once more.
She flopped down on her bed, looked at her pillow, and felt suddenly bone tired. She curled up and attempted to shut out the world, closing her eyes to block the images of the day: her mother in a granny gown, the deserted stretch of beach, Shea kissing Owen, and a bedraggled collection of bare branches that were supposed to somehow pass for a wishing tree. Just before she fell asleep, she thought of her answer on the beach: she was there to find out how to stop feeling so alone. Somewhere at Sunset was the answer to that question.
When she awoke it was dark outside. She looked around for the time, confused about whether it was evening or early, early morning. Maybe she’d slept for hours and hours. She sat up, groggy and disoriented. Maybe she’d slept for days.
Her prepaid phone told her it was after 8:00 p.m. Her stomach rumbled. She’d never eaten lunch and had slept through her normal dinnertime. Never one to miss a meal, she got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, wondering if her mother had cooked. On the way down she grabbed her laptop and decided to see if anyone had emailed her new email address while she ate. She found a handwritten note from her mom that said she and Shea had gone shopping and that there was some soup warmed up on the stove.
She helped herself to a bowl and crumbled saltines over the top. Balancing her bowl and spoon along with her laptop, she set up her meal at the island, taking a seat at the same barstool she’d sat on that morning. She opened her laptop and logged in to her new email account but found not one email.
She slurped her soup and closed the email account page, feeling a little bereft at the thought of all the emails she was missing. And yet, this was what she’d wanted: a nice clean break. She stared at her screen saver, a photo she’d taken of the stream that ran by the cabin she’d lived in when she first moved to Asheville. April! She’d not talked to her at all! She was probably going crazy wondering. Ivy ran upstairs, grabbed her phone, and raced back down. She took another bite of soup while she dialed April’s number.
“Hello?” April answered the unfamiliar number with a question in her voice, probably expecting a prospective renter for the cabins.
“Hey, it’s me, Ivy. I cancelled my other phone because Elliott kept calling it, so I’ve got this prepaid deal for now.” She waited for April to respond but heard only silence. “I’m sorry for getting angry earlier,” Ivy added.
“Glad to know you’re alive.” April’s voice was flat in response. Ivy knew she was still hurt over the way she left things.
“Sorry,” Ivy said again. She would have to rely on grace from her friend and play on her sympathies, hoping that deep down April understood why she pushed her away and fled. “After you told me about Elliott, I just … ran. I couldn’t put enough distance between us.”
“So you drove until the road ran out?” There was a hint of April’s humor.
Ivy envisioned herself doing that—just driving until the car dead-ended at the shore. “Something like that,” she said with a smile.
“But really? Going back to them? Was that really smart or just salt on the wound?” April had stood
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