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GRANT Today marked a year since the worst day of my life. An entire year. Twelve months. Three hundred sixty-five days.
They said the five stages of grief were denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
Her thick eyelashes fluttered, her hazel eyes staring into mine; I found myself being pulled into her. Her mouth shaped an ‘o’ and then quirked into a tilted, pink-painted smile.
Our weekly meetings at Java Joint quickly became some of my favorite days. The scent of hot coffee, in addition to the noise of multiple conversations beside us, always seemed to put me at ease.
He was known everywhere in our small town as the best contractor since he moved here, and his handsome,
I was pretty sure I had an out-of-body experience talking about God knows what because I was too distracted by the handsome man in front of me.
He was beautiful. Well, as beautiful as a man could be.
“Bye, Hart.” I walked back to the front of the store as if that nickname didn’t give me goosebumps up my arms.
The room was covered in pastel colors and motivational posters with quotes such as “If you can be anything, be kind” and “Believe in yourself!”
I had been known as a people pleaser. I was always the one to go to for a shoulder to cry on or the one who apologized about things that were not my fault. I suppose that’s why Ashley was the one I could always go to. She was brutally honest and could read me like a book.
