Not About Love

Chapter Two

The sun peeked over the horizon as I unlocked the back door of my bookstore, and the spring air was cool enough to whip up goose bumps along my skin. My head ached and my eyes were gritty, and I left my coat on against the chill as I walked through the storeroom to the tiny office I kept there. Switching on the lights, I booted up my computer before flipping on the espresso machine. Today called for some extra strong caffeine. And maybe a few aspirin.

The streets of Silverlake were still quiet, some commuters out and about, even fewer joggers on the sidewalks. I ducked back outside to scan the pots of flowers I'd set out by the back door. A couple of kids had made off with the pansies I'd set out a few weeks ago, and I wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

Despite the drinkfest I'd indulged in the night before, I wasn't terribly hung over, yet I felt awful. There was no reasonable explanation why I felt as horrible as I did. I sniffed experimentally. Felt a little stuffy. Maybe I was coming down with a cold. Yay. I clicked open the spreadsheet I'd been staring at yesterday and tried to focus. Tried not to think about the kiss.

That kiss. It had been sinfully delicious. Good thing I had no intention of kissing Braden James again. Kissing led to other, more dangerous things, things I couldn't afford to indulge in with him.

I sat back and sipped my mocha, the combination of chocolate and caffeine winding their way through my system. The desk calendar proudly declared today was April eighth, and I sat up and cursed. Today was not the eighth. It couldn't be. How could it have snuck up on me?

The calendar on my phone confirmed it. Today was definitely the eighth. Another year, gone. This marked eight years since he'd died.

The familiar lance of pain and sadness struck my chest, and I rubbed a fist over it. Every year, I swore I was better, that I was past this. And every year, I got dragged back down. It had to end.

I glanced down at my oversized coffee mug, the coffee sitting sour in my stomach. Mal had made subsequent relationships difficult. I'd given him so much of myself, I didn't have anything left for anyone else. Leaving for college was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do, and yet in a small corner of my mind, I was relieved to leave him behind. I needed to stand on my own, something I hadn't had to do my whole life, knowing there was someone to catch me. Not anymore. There wasn't anyone waiting with a net at the bottom for me. I'd gotten exactly what I'd wanted, in the worst possible way.

I forced myself to stare at the spreadsheet. Sales were up slightly from this time last year, but for the fiscal year so far we were behind. Too many tenants moving out of the neighborhood, I'd guess. The economy was kicking everyone in the balls.

I'd have to go by the cemetery after work.

The headache hadn't dissipated with the aspirin, and there was a brick pushing down on my lungs. Air. Fresh air would help. Even not so fresh air, tinged with exhaust. Carrying my mug, I pushed away from the desk and walked out the back door into the alley, leaning against the building, sipping my lukewarm mocha.

What always got me was how I hadn't seen it coming. Even in middle school he'd been skinny and sort of weak, to the point he'd been bullied incessantly in eighth grade. But I hadn't equated that with any sort of chronic issue that would end with him in a hospital bed, covered in wires and tubes.

I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the pain, a phantom that floated to the surface for a few days every year. I was okay. Eight years later, I could with all honesty while I wasn't whole, and probably never would be again, I wasn't about to devolve into a quivering, psychotic mess.

All I had to do was make it through today without biting anyone's head off.

Feeling slightly more alert, I walked back inside and out into the store. Creaky wood floors were set off by sage green walls, and I wandered up to the front, stopping to straighten a display. A wood counter, done in the same wood as the floors, held two cash registers, and the huge bay windows were covered by drapes. I slid them apart, blinking as the light flooded in from outside. It would get warmer in the afternoon, as the storefront faced west, but for now the store was cold. I made a note to turn up the heat when I went back to the storeroom. There were more people out, moms with their giant strollers, teenagers hurrying down the street sending nervous glances over their shoulders. Probably skipping school.