The pharmacy was empty except for Martha checking her blood pressure next to the counter. A little boy came running down the aisle with an action figure clutched against his chest. Seconds later, a frazzled woman skirted around the corner. Shaking her head, she snatched him by the arm. “I’m not getting you that toy, Matthew.”

“But I wannit!” he wailed. I stared at the floor, trying to block it out. My nerves were on edge.

My phone dinged with a text:

Just get normal potatoes.

Cilantro, Bo. CILANTRO

Yes

“Ms. Blake,” the technician said. I shoved my phone into my purse when I stood up. Martha’s eyes followed me all the way to the window. The technician laid the white paper bag on the counter. “Do you have any questions.”

“No.”

She rang me up and I paid without a word. When I turned around, Ms. Greyson was at the end of the aisle, looking at the over-the-counters. I took a breath and went to escape down another aisle, but before I could round the corner, Martha cleared her throat.

“Is this bad?” She tapped her finger on the red block numbers flashing on the blood pressure machine.

“It looks fine.”

“That’s not hypertensive?” She jabbed her finger over the top number.

“No, you’re fine.”

“Hmmm.”

Ms. Greyson was still staring at the antacid tablets, and I took a step toward the shampoo aisle.

“Hannah,” Martha said. “I haven’t seen you at church lately.”

I eye rolled on a huff before spinning around with a smile. “I’ve been busy.”

“So I’ve heard…”

Are you kidding me? The nerve of some people never ceases to amaze me, but, again. In a small town, everyone thinks they have a right to tell you how you need to live your life.

“It’s making your daddy look awful bad.” She pushed up and rolled her sleeve down. “Running around with the likes of that boy.”

I wanted to tell her that I knew she kept a bottle of whiskey underneath the counter at the Bait and Tackle. I wanted to tell her I knew she was the reason my first-grade teacher ended up divorced—because she was having an affair with the husband. But there was no point. I’ve learned it’s most often times those with a guilty conscious that point out other’s faults. “I’ll keep that in mind, Martha.”

The wrinkles around her mouth deepened when she frowned, and I spun around, walking down the hair care aisle. Right when I reached the end of the walkway, Ms. Greyson rounded the corner. I froze when her eyes landed on me. “Well, hello, Hannah.”

“Hi.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she dug a fist into one of her hips. “Dangnabbit, boy.” She shook her head. “What’s he gone and done did now?”

Even his grandma could admit he was bad for me, so why couldn’t I? “Oh, nothing.”

“I know that look, and I saw you tryin’ to make your great escape over there, not that I blame you, Martha’s about as dimwitted as a fruit fly.” She sighed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he up and ran off to Nashville without as much as tellin’ me. Phoned me and said he had some singing shindig.” She rolled her eyes. “He told me it was just some singing gig. I found out the real truth from the waitress at Ruby’s. I bet it’s ‘cause he’s afraid he’s gonna fail. Never did have much faith in himself.”

“Oh.”

“Poor thing, don’t let it hurt you too bad. He’s immature. Don’t realize what he does to people.” She patted my shoulder. “But he does care about you, I can promise you that.” She frowned. “He’ll be back around when he comes home.”

Doris was only trying to help, I’m sure, but what she had just said to me caused me to realize it would be best if I kept my distance from Noah. I was in no place to be worried about a guy, no position to place my already bleeding heart on a silver platter. I couldn’t handle any more uncertainty when everything in my life was so uncertain.

Thankfully, I heard Bo calling me from the aisle over. “I…” I shifted on my feet and held the prescription up. “I gotta go.” I turned around and walked back to the pharmacy where Bo was waiting. I glanced in the buggy and he didn’t have half of what I told him to get. I reached in and grabbed a head of cabbage. “What is this?”

“Uh, lettuce.”

“Wow.” I dropped it into the cart and grabbed the handle. “Come on.”

“What’s your deal?”

The wheel squeaked. It wobbled and stuck, making it nearly impossible to steer. “You would get the cart with the screwed-up wheel.”

“Didn’t bother me.”

“Of course it didn’t.”

I went to the produce section and tossed the cabbage back in the bin before grabbing the lettuce and holding it up. “This is lettuce.”

“Looks the same.”

I threw it in the cart. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Whatever.”

We walked to the checkout and Bo stopped at one of the end caps, snagging a gossip magazine. “It’s crazy.”

I put the milk and cheese onto the conveyer belt. “What is?” Then I grabbed the butter and pie crusts.

“Brice Taylor’s huge.” I turned around as he placed the magazine back on the rack. Celebrities covered the front, headlines of secret babies and affairs.

“Yep.” I dropped the lettuce on the belt. Then chucked the bread on there. “He’s huge, alright.”

And I had no doubt that soon enough Noah would be right there on the magazine next to him. I threw the rest of the groceries on the belt and shoved the buggy to the end of the line. I should have been happy for him, but I wasn’t.

My knuckles ached from weeding Momma’s flower beds all day. Sweat rolled between my shoulder blades when I grabbed a clump of clovers and pulled. Taking my garden gloves off, I stood up and took a seat on the porch step to drink my water. Sampson wobbled down the steps, sitting next to me and placing his head on my lap. “Hey, buddy.”

His ears perked, and he sat up, giving a lazy bark as he stared at the road. I looked up to find Noah’s truck coming down the drive. “Great,” I mumbled.

Sampson stood up and wagged his tail before he let out a howl and took off toward the approaching vehicle. I hadn’t answered Noah’s message. Maybe I should have, but sometimes it’s best to let things go when you don’t have the right words.

“Hey, Sampson,” Noah said before I heard his truck door close. The sound of his voice made my stomach flip-flop. He crossed the yard with his tattooed hand shoved deep in his jeans, his eyebrows pinched together in a frown.

“Hey, you,” he said.

“Hey.” I took a swig of water and exhaled.

“I lost my phone and—”

“I know.”

He nodded. “Hannah, I…” He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “I care about you.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me.” I’d had seven days to mull over everything. Seven days to overanalyze every word, every kiss, every lie. I had enough on my shoulders, and he had big things on the horizon. I was too much for anyone to take on, and he was too much for me to handle.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I suck at things like this, and with everything going on…”

“Look, we made a mistake. It’s that simple.” I stared right at him, clenching my teeth and swallowing back every emotion I wanted to feel for him.

“That’s what you think?”

“Yep.” I pushed up from the stair.

“Jesus!” He groaned. “Would you stop! I care about you, damn it.” But that could have meant so many things.

His nostrils flared, his eyes set hard on me and he closed the space between us, his hand coming to cup my cheek. He brushed at something on my face. I fought to keep my eyes on his, to not let my gaze fall to his lips. To not let my heart have a say in what I was doing, because I was doing what was best for us both. Wasn’t I?

My heart could only handle so much, and right then, all it could handle was my mother. Just as vulnerable as I was, he was too. It doesn’t take much to break the already broken. “Well, it’s not enough,” I said.

His eyes searched mine and a line sank between his brows. My heart pounded in my chest and I prepared myself for a comeback. I wanted a comeback, because if he cared about me enough, he’d fight this. He wouldn’t just let me go. “You’re right.” He pressed his lips together, his jaw ticked. “It’s really not.” His hand dropped to his side. And with that, he stormed back to his truck and cranked the engine. “Bye, Hannah.” I fought the tightness creeping through my chest. He turned his truck around, dirt flying up from the tires as he sped down the drive.

I thought if he really cared about me he’d turn around and look at me. I waited, but he didn’t even glance at me before he turned onto the highway. He consumed too much of my thoughts, and as much as I loved him, I couldn’t handle him right then. Besides, whatever was going on with him, I couldn’t hold him back.

I didn’t tell him goodbye on purpose. I may have been ready to walk away, but I wasn’t ready to let him go.