Alyson Cox believes in fate. So when her ex, Ethan Richardson, shows up at the diner Alyson works in after two years of elusiveness, she doubts if they are fated to be together.
However, with Alyson only being able to work for one summer before she...
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Three more days until I leave Redwood. I have to admit that counting down hurts, not only because I will leave, but the fact that I underestimate how cruelly fast time can pass.
I'm manning in the booth corner and stacking utensils when a hand sneaks out to take them from me. Turning around, I find Cassandra staring down at me. I straighten my back and stop my work.
"Hey," I say, smiling. I somehow don't see her as my boss anymore, and I know I'm going to miss her after I leave. "You're helping me?"
She shoots me a rather cryptical glare. "I have to talk to you."
I scowl because of the solemness in her tone. Other than worrisome, I'm alarmed. It takes me a good ten seconds before I say with the most nonchalant tone I can muster, "Okay, and what's that?"
"Come with me," Cassandra indicates.
I follow her and enter the storeroom. There are all sorts of stocks and boxes being stacked around me. The sweltering air is suffocating.
Cassandra turns on the fan in the corner and sits down in front of a tiny wooden table with inventory lists scattered on it. I take another small chair in the corner, sitting right opposite to her.
Neither of us mutter a word. I listen to the buzzing sound of the rotating fan as the yellow light on top of me starts flickering a bit.
"So," Cassandra starts. "I've been trying to figure out how to start this."
This is the moment I know that whatever she is going to tell me is utterly serious. I stare into her eyes as my stomach starts churning up, my heart racing.
"I believe that Ethan is part of the Richardsons, right?" she deadpans.
I nod. "Is... is there something wrong?"
Cassandra lets out a sharp breath. "Ethan's parents are 'Rodger and Amy', as you mentioned to me before."
She pauses, but my heartbeat keeps escalating.
"Is Rodger Richardson a lawyer?" she asks, her tone akin to an interrogator.
My jaw drops—I've never told Cassandra about that, and I slowly nod again.
Cassandra looks at me, silently. As if inspecting every inch of me, she sighs with her nose and looks away.
Moments later, she takes out her phone from her pocket. After a few seconds, she shows me a screen, the website is a piece of news article from Redwood's local news publisher. I glance at the bold and blunt title.
Two dead after a head-on car crash on Northdale Road in Redwood.
I hardly know what I'm feeling right now. The room becomes claustrophobic, and the fan is not doing anything to save me from the suffocating air.
