Annelly

“Hey, Wendy?” I say into the two-way radio. “We need two more pitchers of lemonade and another tray of the balsamic chicken.”

“Got it. Be there in a sec,” her voice crackles back.

I lower the radio, letting out a breath. For the hundredth time today, I wish I could step out of the room and grab the food myself—anything to avoid the awkwardness that hangs around me like a cloak. But no. Today, I’m just a guest, here to celebrate my cousin’s new baby like everyone else. I’m not supposed to be working, and every soul in this room knows it. That only makes my constant hovering over the tables and obsessive rearranging of platters all the more noticeable. My actions only spotlight the fact I’m trying—desperately—to avoid having to talk to anyone.

“Hey, you.” Hannah’s familiar voice pulls me out of my thoughts just before she wraps me in one of her signature hugs. She’s one of Emilia’s best friends, and her genuine warmth makes it easy to like her. “How have you been?” she asks, stepping back and flashing a bright smile.

“Good. Busy.” My answer is automatic and accompanied by a practiced smile that feels thin and is becoming harder to maintain the longer the day goes on. “How about you?”

That’s right, deflect and redirect—the social strategy I’ve leaned on all afternoon, and which thankfully, still seems to be working.

“Things are going well. I’ve been expanding the practice, and as I’m sure you’ve heard, my parents asked me to join the board of their medical charity. Between those two things, it feels like all I do is work.” She laughs like it’s no big deal, but the weariness in her eyes betrays her.

I nod, understanding all too well the exhaustion that comes from setting aside your own needs to prioritize others’ expectations.

“I’m sorry. That sounds rough,” I say, keeping my tone soft.

“It’s challenging,” she admits, her smile turning wry. “But the charity does so much good for the community. It’s hard not to feel passionate about it, even if there are days when it feels like the bureaucracy is testing my will to persevere.”

Her honesty catches me off guard, and I offer her a small nod of understanding, though I’m already bracing for what I know is coming next.

“What about you?” she asks, tilting her head, her expression genuinely curious. “With how busy I’ve been, I’ve been a terrible friend. I should have made the time to check in to see how you’re doing. What have you been up to?”

Inwardly, I groan, kicking myself for not intervening before she could ask. If she weren’t such a close friend of our family, I would excuse myself from the conversation under the guise I have to help Wendy bring in more food, but instead, I force my smile to stretch wider, the effort of holding it in place exhausting.

“Oh, you know, helping mom with the diner, taking care of the house, catching up on all the small-town gossip… the usual,” I respond, keeping my tone light.

She laughs, “Well, there’s no shortage of that around here, is there?”

“No, there isn’t. I’m guessing you’ve heard the latest…” I lean in, lowering my voice as though sharing a juicy secret. “So far, four people have reported that someone—or something—stole just one of their snow boots off their porch. It’s looking like Ruby Creek has its first official ‘Boot Bandit.’”

Hannah’s brow lifts in amusement, but it’s when I add, "Chief Keller even went on record in the Ruby Creek Times to say, and I quote, 'It’s probably a raccoon with a weird boot fetish,’” that she throws her head back and laughs.

“Will Keller always was a sarcastic old grump, even as a kid,” she says between chuckles. “I can only imagine how thrilled he is to be in charge of that investigation.”

“Highlight of his career, I’m sure,” I reply with a grin, picturing our beloved and much too serious Chief of police. Though in his early thirties, Will Keller could easily give those cranky old men on the Muppets a run for their money.

Hannah shakes her head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. The lightness of the moment lingers for a beat before she shifts gears. “So, are you back for good?”

The question lands with a weight I’ve come to dread. It’s the one thing everyone wants to know: friends, family, even the nosy cashier at the grocery store. But the truth? I don’t have an answer, not for them, not for myself. Two months back in Ruby Creek, and I’m no closer to figuring it out than I was the day I first arrived.

“For now. Yeah. At least until another project pulls me away.” It’s a big fat lie—one that makes me cringe inwardly as the words leave my mouth.

While I hate lying to my friends and family, the truth is far messier. I have no idea what comes next for me, and after years of believing I had my life mapped out, not knowing my next step feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown. My old life is behind me, laid to waste and in shambles, and my only option is to jump. The thought isn’t just terrifying—it’s downright depressing. Suffocating. The excruciating weight of it pressing harder against my chest with each passing day.

“Anyhow,” I add, eager to shift the spotlight off myself, “will you excuse me? I need to go help Wendy in the kitchen.”

“Of course. Need an extra set of hands?”

“No, we’re good.” I shake my head, flashing her a grateful smile. Then I glance toward Emilia, who’s chatting with some of the other guests, her face radiant despite the exhaustion etched into her posture. “But maybe you could grab the guest of honor and get her into a chair. Poor thing looks like she’s about to topple over.”

Emilia’s only four weeks away from delivering her third baby, and the way she’s cradling her swollen belly makes it obvious how uncomfortable she is. With the whirlwind of her wedding to Lucas over Thanksgiving weekend, followed by the Christmas season, and then the arrival of Jen and Ben’s baby on New Year’s Day, today was the first date that worked to throw her this baby shower. She looks stunning as always, with her long, wavy brown hair and effortless, girl-next-door beauty. But the strained look on her face is a clear signal she needs to be off her feet.

Hannah, being her OB-GYN, doesn’t need much convincing. She takes one look at her and then rushes off to steer Emilia toward a chair. Relieved at the opportunity to slip away, I head toward the kitchen and run into Wendy and Sage as they’re about to bring out the food I requested. I take one of the lemonade pitchers from Wendy, falling into step behind them. Once inside, I busy myself checking that there’s plenty of food to go around, refilling trays, and ensuring everyone is enjoying themselves. The steady hum of activity is a welcome distraction—exactly what I need to avoid being pulled into yet another conversation I’m not ready to have.

The next couple of hours fly by, thanks to my deliberate effort to keep busy so, other than the occasional hello, I don’t have to talk to anyone. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with my family and friends—I do. But I loathe the current state of my life. Pretending everything is fine, like my life is all unicorns, rainbows, and roses, is draining in a way that feels almost unbearable. As much as I pride myself on being a talented actress, playing “happy, well-adjusted Annelly” is a role I fail at miserably.

“Thank you so much, Nelly. This was wonderful.” Emilia says as she pulls me into a warm hug, her gratitude heartfelt.

I smile as we pull apart, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “See? I told you. I know you said it wasn’t necessary since it’s your third baby, but this little peanut…” I place my hands gently on her round belly, “…deserves to be celebrated, too. Just like we celebrated the arrival of his big sisters.” I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper. "You’re still thinking it’s a boy?”

Her smile widens, radiating joy as she nods. “I’m almost positive. Don’t ask me how, but I feel it. Deep in my bones—and my weary back.” She chuckles, one hand moving instinctively to support her lower back as her body shifts, struggling under the weight of her ever-growing belly.

“You’re leaving?” Mom’s voice cuts in as she joins us, pulling Emilia into a hug of her own.

“Yeah,” Emilia says with a chuckle. “Jen’s giving me a ride back to her place. Lucas and Ben were feeling a bit overwhelmed with their charges and called for reinforcements. Don’t ask me why it takes the entire Offset Tactical Team to oversee a six-year-old, a four-year-old, and a 6-week-old baby.”

Mom and I burst into laughter, easily picturing those big, tough men fumbling over tea parties and diaper changes while three tiny girls run circles around them. But as the laughter fades, my mind drifts where it shouldn’t—to James.

I can’t stop the memories from creeping in—those afternoons in Lucas’s backyard, watching James play with Mallory and Alyssa. He was so good with them. Attentive. Patient. Doting, even. That’s James in a nutshell. When his focus is on you, it’s as though nothing else in the world exists. And the way he looked at me back then…

My chest tightens, and I shove the thought aside with a sharp exhale, angry at myself for going there. I hate that I still crave that feeling of being seen, of being wanted, when I know better. After all the mistakes I’ve made, after all the ways I’ve let my life spiral out of control, I should know better than to yearn for such things. James cast me aside like I was nothing. But at least he didn’t destroy my sense of safety. Victor, on the other hand…

Both men made me feel like I was the center of their universe, and though the aftermath couldn’t have been more different, both inflicted their fair share of permanent damage. James left me broken. Victor left me terrified. Now, I can’t escape the fear—every shadow, every sound. Every step I take feels like it’s leading me to the moment I’ll see Victor again. And deep down, I know if that happens, I won’t survive it.

“I was just telling Nelly how much Lucas and I appreciate you guys throwing us a shower. Everything was wonderful.” Emilia says, her kind words slicing through my spiraling thoughts like a lifeline.

“It was all Nell,” Mom replies with a smile, her tone warm and full of pride. “All I did was show up.”

I force a faint smile, but I’m not listening anymore. My mind is still tangled up in the fear, the memories, the remnants of my time with Victor that linger no matter what I do.

It’s not until the private banquet room is clean and I’m back in the employee locker room, changing into my 1950s-style waitressing uniform, that I finally snap out of it. Enough is enough. What happened in New York happened. I can’t rewrite the past or undo the choices that led me there. I abandoned the life I was building—the dreams, the career, the degree. I walked away from it all. And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s time to face the truth and start working on a new plan for my future.

For two months, Victor has left me alone. Two months of silence, which I cling to as a fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—I can put what happened behind me, that with enough time and a little luck, I can rebuild, even if I don’t yet know how.

Thankfully, my shift runs smoothly, and I’m relieved when the Serrano brothers don’t make an appearance. Still, knowing they’re likely at Jen’s house, hanging out with my cousin and her friends stirs a pang of regret. I tell myself it has nothing to do with James, that it’s because I miss hanging out with the group, but no matter how I try to spin it, I know it’s a lie.

“Sage,” I call out, keeping my voice light. “My tables are good for now, so I’m going to take those boxes out to the dumpster. You okay holding things down for a minute?”

“Sure, Nell,” she replies with a smile. “It looks like the rush is over, anyway. Take your time.”

Hoping the crisp evening air will help shake the funk that’s been clinging to me since the baby shower, I grab the broken-down boxes and head out the back door toward the dumpsters at the back edge of the property. The lot is packed tonight. Every spot filled thanks to the crowds spilling from the ski resorts, eager to experience the nostalgic charm of Rosie’s Diner and its signature 1950s vibe.

Once the boxes are disposed of, I linger for a moment, letting the icy breeze nip at my cheeks before wandering toward the front of the lot. Main Street comes into view, alive with activity. Cars crawl along the road, their headlights cutting through the soft glow of the streetlamps. On the sidewalks, bundled-up couples stroll hand in hand, their laughter and murmured conversations trailing behind them. They huddle close against the chill, the warmth of their connection evident in every glance and touch.

There’s love in the air tonight, a buzzing undercurrent I can’t seem to escape. It’s everywhere, so palpable it sends a pang through my chest—a dull ache born from longing and regret. I almost forgot tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, but the sight of all these couples is a stark reminder. 

A sad sigh escapes me before I can stop it as my gaze catches on a couple across the street. The woman’s back is pressed against the wall, the man leaning into her space to claim a lingering, intimate kiss. It’s a tender, private moment, yet it feels like a dagger to my heart. My chest tightens, tears pricking my eyes as the memory surges forth—the night I saw James outside Souder’s bar, kissing that girl. The night before he shattered my world with the words I can’t forget: I care about you, Annelly. That’s how I know there’s no place for someone like me in your life—or for someone like you in mine.

As the mortification and grief from that day settles over me, the air around me shifts. The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on end, and a shiver crawls up my spine like my body knows something’s wrong before my brain can catch up. Slowly, my gaze is drawn across the street, my heart pounding harder with every passing second.

That’s when I see him.

A hooded man, standing in the shadows, his eyes locked on me. Even from this distance, I recognize the glint in his gaze—a sinister promise of the punishment he’s been dreaming of inflicting. A slow, sinister smile curls across his face, a silent promise that my time in Ruby Creek is over.

It’s him.

Oh, God, it’s him!

A gasp catches in my throat, my lungs locking tight as panic claws its way through me. The air I so desperately need is just out of reach, trapped behind the weight of terror pressing on my chest.

He found me.

Oh, my God. He found me.

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