“Hey man,” Anthony yells across the rows of chips and cases of cold drinks. “You filling up?”

“Yeah,” I answer, grabbing a package of sunflower seeds and the biggest bottle of water I can find. I consider buying a twenty-two of beer but decide against it. “What are you up to?” I ask, joining him. He’s standing in front of the hot dogs. They roll around on the burner, glistening with grease.

“Looking for a heart attack.” He shakes his head. “I can’t eat this shit. I need real food.” He eyes the sunflower seeds in my hand. “Looks like you could use some real food too. Want to grab dinner?”

I shake my head. “Can’t. I have to go shopping.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Does Brynn have you shopping with her already? You’re whipped.”

My heart twists at the mention of Brynn. It’s been two days since I’ve seen her. Two days since she told me we’re better off apart and stood next to her open front door, waiting for me to leave. We’re still friends, she said as I walked away. I’ll be there Friday night.

My gallery opening. Probably the last night I’ll ever see Brynn. Her parents will pad her bank account with as much money as she needs to get to wherever the hell she’s going, and she’ll skip town.

But she’s not leaving without a few things from me.

Ignoring the whipped comment, I tell him I need to pick up some stuff from Sports House. The massive outdoors store on the far side of town has everything I need in one place.

Anthony walks beside me to the gas station register. He must’ve forgotten about the heart attack turning circles on a spit behind us.

“Good. I need to grab a few things for fishing this weekend. I lost a chatterbait to a snag and had to cut my line. Favorite one, too.” Anthony shakes his head, as if this is some great loss.

I give him a look and he laughs. He knows I don’t speak angler. “Don’t you have plans with Julia?” I don’t particularly want company tonight. I don’t need Anthony surveying my purchases.

“Nope,” he says, not getting the hint.

He whistles all the way to my truck and hops in the passenger seat. I sigh and pull the gas spout from my truck, tucking it back into the holder and tightening my gas cap. Looking around, I spot Anthony’s car parked off to the side, away from the people getting gas. There goes any hope that he would need to move his car and I could ditch him.

I get in and start the truck.

“Julia is with Brynn tonight,” Anthony says, as I pull away. “Parade stuff.”

I tilt my head up slightly and lower it slowly. It’s a lazy nod that allows me to think about what to say next. It doesn’t matter though, because Anthony’s moved on to something else.

He opens the small ice chest on the floor next to his feet. “Did you know you have all kinds of food in here?”

My gaze flickers over to the container of carrots, the pulled pork sandwich wrapped in tin foil, the bag of potato chips. My mother packed it for Brynn, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t need to. I couldn’t eat it either, even though I was starving when I finished this afternoon. Despite Brynn needing a lot of direction on the job, having a second set of hands was more helpful than I realized. I need to start looking for someone to fill her spot, but I don’t want to have to tell my parents she’s gone. That conversation will have to happen soon enough, delaying it a few more days isn’t going to hurt anything.

Brynn’s helpfulness wasn’t the only thing I missed today. I missed her presence, her laughter, her chatter and the way she hummed songs without realizing it. She would’ve loved seeing the old photos I was hanging today as a part of a gallery wall. I didn’t ask the homeowner, but I’m assuming the people in the photos were her grandparents.

It started with a black and white photo of a couple in a church and went all the way through a lifetime until a recent photo of a large family, including the now white-haired couple, and younger people surrounding them. If Brynn had been there she would’ve asked about the collection. She would’ve pointed out different parts of the pictures and commented on what she saw. The job would’ve taken an hour longer because she would’ve been making a friend while I re-configured her measurements.

“What?” I ask when I realize Anthony is staring at me.

He points down. “The food in the ice chest.”

“Oh. Um. Yeah, I knew it was in there.”

“You don’t want it?”

Instead of answering, I use my teeth to rip open a corner of the plastic bag and pour in a mouthful of sunflower seeds.

“More for me, then.” Anthony pulls out the tin foil and unwraps it. “Yes,” he hisses, grinning and taking a big bite. A little slaw falls off the sandwich and onto the spread out foil on his lap. “Your mom should sell this. Forget Vale Handyman Services.”

I swallow my mouthful and take a drink of water. “Are you trying to put me out of a job?”

“You’re going to be a famous painter. Brynn can run the handyman biz while you paint all day.” He tilts his head and squints at me. “Maybe I’ll get you a beret for your birthday. It’ll look good on you. Bring out your cheekbones.”

“Don’t be surprised when you hook a fish wearing a beret.”

“Hah,” he barks and takes a huge bite of the pulled pork. “So why are you going all the way to Sports House? Can’t you find what you need at the supply store in town?”

“No.” I can tell he’s dying to hear more, but I’m not sharing. If I tell him what I’m after, he’s going to want to know why the hell I’m buying it. I’d rather not have that conversation when we’re stuck in this car and I can’t get away from his questions.

Anthony finishes the food meant for Brynn and tosses his trash back into the ice chest at his feet. He opens his mouth, and when I’m certain he’s going to ask about Brynn, he asks if I want to hit bags tomorrow after work. I agree quickly. The tension inside me is building every minute, every fucking second.

When we get to Sports House, I head right for the emergency preparedness section at the back of the store. On my way, I pass a display shelf and pick up a medium-sized maroon backpack with a million little compartments. Once I’m in the section I came here for, I grab a LifeStraw, two mylar blankets, a pocket knife, and waterproof matches. I don’t know what it’s like where Brynn is going, but she’s going to have what she needs to survive. Water, fire, and shelter.

Anthony says nothing. He watches the items as I toss them into the cart, and when I’m finished, we walk over to the fishing section. He grabs what he needs from a massive selection. To me, it all looks the same and has the same function—catch a freaking fish. To Anthony, everything is different and meets different needs. He grabs worms from the cooler and goes to check-out.

On the drive back, when I think that perhaps, by some miracle, I’ve gotten away with not hearing any commentary from the peanut gallery, I’m proven wrong.

“Why didn’t you know Brynn’s with Julia? Why are you free tomorrow night, when you haven’t been available for weeks? And for fuck’s sake, why didn’t she eat the lunch your mom packed for her today?”

I have some questions of my own, starting with When did you get so observant and Can you go back to being unobservant? To buy time, I scratch the back of my head with two knuckles and roll my neck around a few times. I don’t want to tell Anthony for the same reason I don’t want to tell my parents. Not never, just not yet.

I’m not going to get that option. I’m stuck in a small space with Anthony, and he’s staring me down.

“Brynn and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“I already knew that.”

I sigh and shake my head. I should’ve known. Julia and Brynn have become friends. If Anthony knows about that, then he probably knows that—

“I hear Des is back in town.”

“Yep.”

“Does that have anything to do with you and Brynn calling it quits?” He reaches into the plastic bag on his lap as he talks and pulls out his new bait. Turning it over, he examines it through the clear packaging. I’m glad he’s not staring me down right now, demanding answers with that look he gets when he’s determined.

“Sort of, but not really. Des showed up at my place and tried to insert herself back into my life. Some shit about how she misses me, yada yada. I told her to beat it. Then Brynn drove up with Julia.”

Brynn’s expression on that day pops into my head. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t threatened. Realization was dawning on her as she sat in Julia’s passenger seat.

“Brynn ended things because she has other plans, Anthony. Plans I don’t have any hope of interrupting.” And, maybe, I don’t want to. That’s why I went to Sports House today. That’s why I went to the hardware store when I left her place yesterday. If Brynn needs to leave to feel safe, how can I get in the way of that? I won’t. Instead, I’ll make her feel as secure as I possibly can.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me, man. Either she wants to be with you, or she doesn’t. End of story.”

“It’s not always black and white,” I say, staring out at the dark road ahead of us. “Some stories have a lot of colors.” It makes me think of the Eye of the Storm painting. I still don’t know where to send it. The email said the buyer would contact me with an address.

“Whatever this story is, it must be a fucking rainbow, Connor.”

The thought doesn’t cheer me up. Rainbows aren’t real. They’re what happens when the sun shines through particles in Earth’s atmosphere.

Brynn isn’t the sun. She’s a violent storm, an angry body of water, a churning sea spewing fear, shame, and regret. Emotions strong enough to sink an average human being, a painter masquerading as a handyman, a guy who fears he has the passion but lacks the talent. She’s strong enough to sink a freighter.

Brynn is a category five gale, and I’m fucking drowning in her.