Valentine’s Day was the last holiday we decorated the shop.
It was also Sam and Jay’s anniversary.
The combination of the two reasons are why I never celebrate it. Why I don’t like celebrating any holidays I can avoid. Most of my best memories were made with a girl who isn’t here anymore. With friends I haven’t spoken to in years. The holidays serve as reminders of what I had and lost in the blink of an eye.
“So I can tell at least one of you needs a strong cup of coffee,” Summer says, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me against her like old times. She barely comes up to my chin, standing a little under five foot tall, so I automatically sling my arm over her shoulder.
Sam was the spitting image of her mother. Short in stature with a personality larger than life. Light brown, straight hair with dark, muddy brown eyes. Where Sam was curvier in the hips and thighs, Summer has always been petite. Looking at her today, she appears thinner than I remember her being. Not unhealthy but more fragile.
I imagine we all are, either on the inside or out.
Spencer holds the door for us as we make our way inside, Summer slipping behind the counter. The sounds and smells of the Java Bean take me back. To a time when life was simple. When I used to sit at the table in the corner and stare out the window when I was supposed to be studying. When Sam and I would cuddle up on the couch in front of the fireplace and talk while the snow fell outside.
We ‘would make plans for when the weather warmed. Sam had a list of epic adventures she longed to take. Places she craved to visit, things she needed to see and experience. The ocean was at the top of her list. She said it was so vast it scared her. Made her feel even smaller and she was hell-bent on conquering every fear she had.
Mostly, this place reminds me of the last morning I saw her. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, the bright teal tips sticking out in every direction. She had my mocha waiting for me and a sad smile on her face, her bright red lipstick emphasizing her mood. Her eyes were pleading with me not to go, but all I could think about was how I needed to get away from that place and clear my head. To put distance between me and Jay before we crossed a line. Again.
Sure, I was excited to lay on the beach and soak up the sun, but it wasn’t the real reason I was rushing off that morning. I was going on an all-expenses paid vacation to St. Lucia with my parents. Their favorite vacation destination. An early graduation gift. My days would be spent drinking on the beach and listening to the waters of the Caribbean lap against the sand. At night my parents wanted to show me their favorite sights on the island.
Four nights and five days of relaxation.
It was my last semester of college. I was exhausted and needed the vacation. I’d been counting down the days until spring break for months. My car was packed, and I was on my way to the airport.
I barely said hello and good-bye to her that morning at she handed me my mocha, the guilt gnawing at my soul. If I’d known then what I know now, I would have hugged her tighter. Told her how important she was to me.
Hell, I probably would’ve stayed in Great Falls and spent spring break with her. Faced the consequences of my actions for a few more days with her.
“Here ya go,” I hear Spencer say from next to me.
When I glance in his direction, I find his outstretched hand with a paper cup in it. ”I didn’t order anything.”
“Summer made you a mocha with an extra shot. She said the sugar and caffeine would get you going.”
All I can do is nod as I take the cup from him and bring it to my lips, blowing air through the opening in the lid as I take another look around the shop. It hasn’t changed. Same furniture. Same setup. Same everything.
I’m starting to wonder if time has stood still in Great Falls. At least for some people.
Spencer is quiet on the walk through campus. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead until we’re seated outside of the dean’s office, not wanting more memories to assault me. I’m already feeling fragile, like an emotional bomb waiting to explode.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“The dean will see you now,” a hunched-over older lady says, appearing out of nowhere.
The dean is situated behind his desk as Spencer and I enter. He motions for us to take a seat without looking away from his computer. After a few long, tense moments, he removes his wire-rimmed glasses, tosses them on his desk, and runs his fingers through his graying hair.
“Thank you both for coming in today. The university is pleased to be a part of Sam’s remembrance. She was an excellent student and a leader in the community. It’s a tragedy what happened to her, and what you’ve put together is inspiring.” His attention is solely focused on Spencer even though it’s clear he’s talking to both of us. “We have the foyer of the student center set up to host the memorial brunch tomorrow afternoon, and the lantern release will be on the football field at dusk. With this week being spring break, most of our student population is off campus. However, we’ve had a number of community members RSVP for one or both events along with many of our student leaders returning to campus tonight and tomorrow morning. The only thing we haven’t secured is a speaker for the lantern release.”
The room falls silent as both Spencer and the dean stare at me expectantly.
“I can’t.”
Two words. That’s all I get out. There are a million reasons running through my mind, but none of them feel validated.
“Your excuses are lame.” Spencer rolls his eyes at me. “I’m already kicking off the 5k race on Saturday, and Summer is speaking at the fountain dedication after. It would mean a lot to both of us if you could speak at the lantern release.”
I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. Which is what scares me most about speaking in front of a crowd. Especially about Sam. And if the words won’t come, the tears will. The last thing I want is to have an emotional breakdown in front of half the town.
“If you won’t do it for us, do it for Sam,” Spencer urges. Not only was that a low blow but he’s flaunting his signature pout.
I have no idea how Mia is able to say no to him when he pulls this shit. I swear, the ‘puppy dog’ look has never worked on me before, except when it came to Spence. Probably because he doesn’t use it all the time. Only when something matters to him, and I know this does.
Because Sam mattered to him. She mattered to all of us. She was the glue that kept us all together. Which is probably why I feel like my heart is still in pieces.
“Fine, but I want to be behind the crowd. I don’t want to stand in front of anyone. I don’t want people staring at me. And I can’t promise how long I’ll be able to talk about her, but I’ll try.”
“Thank you, Andrea. It’s never easy to talk about the people we’ve loved and lost, but knowing Sam for as long as I have, as long as I did, I think she would be pleased,” the dean remarks as he stands.
Damn small-town politics.
Stupid everyone-knows-everyone place.
I should have seen this coming. The itinerary Spencer sent was detailed. I knew he was speaking at the race, and Summer at the dedication. What I didn’t notice was the lack of a speaker at the lantern release.
“She would be pleased, you know,” Spencer adds as we walk back across campus toward Main Street.
Sam would be happier if she were still alive.
I want to say the words, they’re on the tip of my tongue, but they’re filled with spite. I haven’t seen Spencer in almost five years and the last thing I want to do is fight with him the entire time I’m here.
Or worse, ruin our friendship. I can’t take another loss right now.
Chapter Four
I wouldn’t be surprised if Mia’s screech was heard in the next town over. The shrill sound of her voice caused me to cringe even though I was actually happy to see her. She was bouncing in her heels when she spotted Spencer and I walking into Blush, the salon she’s been working at since I’ve known her. Then she was sprin
ting toward me, the click of her heels the only warning I was given as she launched herself at me.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she says enthusiastically, throwing her arms around my neck as the three women seated in the waiting area, all a decade older than us, watch in fascination. “I can’t believe you’ve stayed away this long. How could you not visit?”
Slapping me in the arm when she finally releases me, Mia steps back and wrinkles her nose, getting a good look at me for the first time. Spence warned me I looked like shit, not that I wasn’t aware before he so sweetly pointed it out.
“You look like hell, Andi. Well, your hair is gorgeous as always, but this …” Mia waves her hand in front of my face before continuing, “this needs some help. You need some under eye cream to get rid of those puffy bags and maybe a little Botox to help with your crow’s feet. They’re not horrifying yet, but if you don’t start taking better care of your skin they will be in a few years.”
“I’m twenty-seven, Mia, not seventy. I don’t think I have to worry about crow’s feet just yet.”
One of the women in the waiting area scoffs at my remark, but I don’t bother to acknowledge it.
Mia hasn’t changed a bit. Still bubbly. Still smiling. Her ginger curls are pulled into a fashionable rat’s nest on the top of her head, tendrils framing her face.
She’s always been gorgeous and she knows it. As a stylist, she’s found ways to accent her best features and her talent has only grown with time. The dark and often dramatic eye makeup she used to wear is gone, in it’s place more neutral tones that bring out the sandy color of her eyes. Her fair skin is dusted with bronzer, accenting her high cheekbones. Her pouty lips have been glossed with a hue of pink and nothing more.
Her words cut through the haze that was beginning to consume me as I admired her beautiful features.
“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” she asks, astonished that I would doubt her.
Of course I have. In fact, I looked this morning before I left to meet Spencer and cringed, adding more concealer under my eyes in a vain attempt to hide the dark circles. I even took my hair out of the high ponytail I had it in so it framed my face.
“I try really hard not to sometimes,” I mutter as she turns and heads toward the back of the salon, stopping at her station to snag a few products she has sitting on the counter.
“Let’s go,” Spencer says, nudging me with his shoulder before taking my hand in his and tugging until my feet cooperate.
“Where?” I ask as we leave the buzz of hairdryers behind us.
“Lunch. Mia put your favorite in the oven this morning and it should be ready.”
Following Mia and Spencer through the salon and then up the familiar set of stairs, I’m surprised to find their loft has been fully remodeled. When they moved in together during our senior year, the place was nice enough but needed a little work. Fresh paint and floors would have gone a long way. From the looks of it, they did that and more.
The kitchen has been completely transformed from a galley style with a half wall and the dining room separating it from the living room to an open concept. Shiny new appliances in black stainless steel, soft white, granite countertops, and heather gray cabinets. The island that replaced the half wall now separates the kitchen from the dining area and matches the rest of the kitchen with the exception of the cabinets. They’re painted a darker shade of gray, making them stand out against the stark white counters.
The shaggy, yellowing carpet I was afraid to walk on has been replaced with oak wood floors. The walls are painted a shade of gray so soft it’s almost white, complementing the color scheme in the kitchen.
The living room would be boring if it weren’t for the pops of color everywhere. Dark blue throw pillows that match the curtains accent a large, red sectional. Bright, abstract paintings are on every wall. White tables and a matching entertainment center with a large, flat screen TV hanging above it brighten the area.
And then there’s my least favorite showpiece sitting in the far corner of the room, taunting me.
The teal chair my parents bought me for my apartment for Christmas. I hated that chair from the moment it showed up at my door. Now, I resent it. It’s the chair that inspired Sam to change the color in her hair.
“You kept it?” I ask, sliding onto a bar stool at the island without taking my eyes off the chair. My question isn’t directed at either of them in particular, but Spencer was the one who wanted it.
“Of course we did. I love that damn chair. It’s uncomfortable as hell and no one ever sits in it, but it looks great,” Spencer replies, proud of the eye sore.
“It’s ugly as sin, Spencer.” Turning in my seat, I find both of them staring at me in utter amusement. “I can’t believe you let him talk you into keeping it, Mia. I gave it to him as a joke.”
After Sam’s death, the chair haunted me. I tried to smash it with a baseball bat but I wasn’t strong enough to break it. The damn thing was expensive and apparently made well. Eventually, I asked Spencer to take it out of my apartment. I figured he was joking when he asked if he could have it.
“I’ll admit, I think it’s horrendous. Spence is the only one who likes it, but something feels wrong about getting rid of it, so instead we let it inspire the remodel.”
Glancing around the room, I can see that everything is brought together by the chair. The colors, the styles. The damn chair is the centerpiece of the design. Somehow, they managed to have a completely unique and beautiful apartment and incorporate that ugly-ass chair.
Mia dishes out her homemade macaroni and cheese, and we fall into easy conversation. The remodel of the loft. The fights they had over every detail. Mia buying the salon from the previous owner last year when she decided to retire.
Nothing they say shocks me until Spencer gets a phone call from his boss.
The chief of police.
“Spence is a police officer?” I ask Mia in hushed tones as Spencer paces the living room.
Spencer was studying criminal justice. It’s not a stretch that he became a police officer, but he had always talked about going to law school. I envisioned him in the courtroom, his larger-than-life stature intimidating everyone until he opened his mouth.
“He went into the academy shortly after you left and was promoted to detective last year,” she explains, avoiding eye contact.
“Is he looking into Sam’s death?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“When he can. There have been no new leads, no breaks in the case, so they’re going to close it soon.”
No. They can’t. They need to find whoever did this to her. It’s not fair. Sam deserves justice. We deserve closure.
Anger begins to bubble beneath the surface, but I tamp it down. Getting worked up isn’t going to solve anything. It’s not going to make this weekend easier. Plus, I already went through that stage of grieving. I’m stuck on the final stage. Acceptance.
Clearing my mind, I let what Mia said sink in before composing myself and opening my eyes to the bigger picture. What is going on this weekend. Why I’m here.
“It’s why he was pushing me to come back and get closure because he knows I’d be notified that the case was officially closed.” Mia nods, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mia. Being here again is hard. Don’t get me wrong. I missed you guys. I’m glad I got the chance to see you, but I don’t know if I can stay. It’s too hard. It hurts too much.”
“Don’t run away again, Andi. I get it, I really do, but I don’t think Spence really understands how you could walk away and never look back. Sam’s death changed all of us. He ran toward it, jumped in, wanting to do whatever he could to help.” She pauses, looking down to where her hands are clasped together in front of her. “Jay, too.”
“Jay?” I ask, his name coming out raspier than I anticipated.
The mention of his names causes my breath to hitch, my heart to race, and goosebumps to cover my arms. I still don’t k
now if he’s going to be here this weekend. I want to ask but I press my lips together instead, silencing myself. Saying his name was hard enough.
“Yeah. He went to the academy, too, only he was recruited to work for the government shortly after graduating. Something to do with security clearance and his degree. He can’t really say. I know his dad has some major pull but I’m not sure what. The plan was for both of them to stay here and work Sam’s case when they could. Jay left, and Spence was left to pick up the pieces all by himself.
“So, if you stay for no other reason than for Spencer, that’s fine. But please understand that he needs you right now. We all do. We’ve been facing this every day for the last five years and it’s about to be over. When that happens, it’ll be easier for everyone if we’re together.”
Together.
It’s the confirmation I need. Jay will be here this weekend. So, we can all say our final goodbyes as a united front. We’ll face it together, like we did when she died. Only this time, five years have passed, and we don’t really know each other anymore.
“I ...”
Words fail me as I stare into Mia’s pleading green eyes. More than anything, I want to confess all the things she doesn’t know. About what happened before Sam died. The secrets I’ve kept from all of them since leaving here. The fact that I, too, ran toward helping Sam, only I haven’t found the answers yet.
I didn’t want to say anything until I had information that could help.
And I don’t, which makes me feel like a complete failure.
“It’s okay,” Mia replies with the shake of her head as Spencer slides back onto his bar stool, tossing his phone on the counter. “What’s wrong, babe? You look frustrated.”
“The chief wants me to come down and sign the official paperwork to close Sam’s case.” Spencer chances a glance in my direction but avoids eye contact. I can see the weight on his shoulders growing heavier by the second. Closing Sam’s case will be a double-edged sword for him.
A Moment Too Late Page 4
