Chapter 26

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"Can I get a refill?" I asked Hollis from where I sat at the far end of the bar, lifting my now-empty wine glass

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"Can I get a refill?" I asked Hollis from where I sat at the far end of the bar, lifting my now-empty wine glass.

Tucking the rag he'd been using to wipe down the bar top into his back pocket, he nodded, and grabbed the bottle of red Mara and I had been drinking for the last hour. Two glasses down, who knows how many to go.

"Better make it another for me too," Mara said.

"Can do," Hollis said, pouring generously into both of our glasses. "And just so you both know, it's about to get busy in here, so if you need anything else, just flag me down."

I nodded with understanding, and with a quick glance around, saw he was right. When we'd arrived, there'd only been a few other tables occupied, but now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the tide crawled up the beach, The Watering Hole was filling up with locals and tourists alike. All trying to enjoy what was left of the summer.

After tipping my glass to clink lightly against Mara's, I took a sip, and from the look on my friend's face, I knew she wanted to say something but was holding her tongue. She'd brought me out tonight to try and put some pep back in my step after a fairly bleak week, and to presumably get some answers out of me, but all I'd really done so far was steer the conversation in her direction or talk about how Eric was fitting in at Wilma's.

Not exactly the type of exciting gossip a best friend would want.

Sighing, I relented and said, "Go ahead and ask about it."

An immediate sheepish expression filled Mara's features. Light eyes and a guilty smile. "Are you sure? We can just keep drinking. Or people watching."

The corner of my mouth tipped upwards ever so slightly. "No, it's okay. We can talk about Ryan."

"Thank god," she exhaled, reaching over to squeeze my forearm. "I've had to refrain myself from asking, but what the hell happened? Did y'all break up? You've been out of sorts since he left."

Dropping my gaze to the bar top, I ran a finger slowly around the rim of my glass. "We may have had a fight a few days before he left."

"About what?" she asked. "About him moving back to Boston?"

"Sort of."

Mara let a prolonged silence stretch between us, waiting to see if I'd offer up anything else, but when I didn't, she said, "Sloane." A pause until I finally met her eyes to see nothing but sincere support. "What happened?"

The answer? I'd been scared. Scared of what came next, knowing that it could push me out of my comfort zone. I'd overthought everything, and with all the noise in my head—conjuring different scenarios around how everything could fall apart—I'd acted in an abrupt fashion. Because looking back on my confrontation with Ryan, I knew I'd been the one in the wrong. Had he screwed up by letting my dad know my plans for the store? Yes, but it hadn't been malicious or purposeful on his part. I, however, had took hold of that one thread—his one mistake—and yanked it until I unravelled everything between us. Giving into the insecurities bouncing around inside my brain that were screaming the two of us wouldn't make it long distance. That it'd be too stressful.

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