Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Lila

The worst part about working at a grooming salon is the cleanup. The once pristine blue basin is now covered in a thick layer of matted brown fur, shed by our most recent client—a massive Saint Bernard named Brutus.

I stretch my neck to work out the kink as I vigorously scrub the dingy tub and wish I was on better terms with my roommate. She owns a spa, and my muscles could benefit from her expertise.

"Girl, you have got to come out with us on Saturday night!" Chenille exclaims as she finishes trimming a poodle's nails at the station beside mine. "There's this new club opening downtown, and the first hundred ladies get in for free. Plus, they have 2-for-1 drinks all night."

I sigh and rinse the soap from the tub. As tempting as a night out sounds, I can't afford any distractions. "You know I can't."

"But you can. My sister's friend has a list of trusted sitters." She shakes her head disapprovingly when I look at her. "All you do is work and go home. Rinse and repeat. You never let loose."

There isn't any time to "let loose."

But I don't expect Chenille to understand. She's a couple of years younger than me. And as intriguing as bar hopping sounds, I can't imagine doing it with my responsibilities.

"You know I'm trying to save every penny to buy this place from Mr. Richards when he retires next year. Going out means spending money I should be putting away."

Chenille turns to me, hands on her hips. "Lila, when's the last time you let your hair down and had some real fun? You're only young once, girl."

"I know, I know. But this salon is my dream. If I lose focus now, it might slip through my fingers. There will be plenty of time for partying after I'm a business owner."

She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Fine, be boring then! But don't expect me to bail your workaholic butt out when you're drowning in dog hair with no social life."

I splash some water at her playfully. "I think I'll manage. Now, less nagging, more grooming! We've got three more pups on the books today."

I chuckle as she walks her poodle to the counter. As much as I would love a wild night out, securing my future must take priority. This salon will be mine one day—even if it means a few missed parties along the way. I turn my attention to making the tub sparkle, daydreaming about the day I finally hang my name above the door—Lila's Paws and Claws.

Chenille returns and leans against the counter, wearing a mischievous grin. "Speaking of social lives, how's that wild roommate of yours doing? Miranda, right?"

I tense slightly at the mention of her name and shrug nonchalantly. "Oh, you know Miranda. She's been searching for a rich husband since I met her. Apparently, she finally snagged herself a baseball player."

"No way! Like, a famous one?" Chenille's eyes widened with excitement.

"I have no clue; I didn't ask his name. But yeah, he plays for the Boston Bears."

"You didn't ask his name?" Every syllable drips with disbelief.

"You know me, I don't follow sports." I try to keep my tone casual, but the mention of players, especially baseball players, makes my stomach flip. I automatically reach for my necklace and worry the silver pendant between my fingers.

Chenille whistles appreciatively. "Damn, that chick doesn't mess around! I bet she's already planning the wedding."

I force a laugh, but it comes out strained. "Knowing Miranda, she's probably already picked out the diamond ring and reserved the venue since he invited her to the game." Poor guy. I can't help but feel sorry for him. He has zero clue what he's getting himself into.

"He must be serious." She curses under her breath. "Lucky, bitch."

I make a noncommittal sound. There was a time when I thought I was lucky. My mind drifts to the silver necklace I'm fiddling with. I should rip it off and toss it in the garbage. It's what a normal human would've done years ago, but I can't bring myself to do it. This is the last meaningful gift anyone has given me. The last gift he gave me. And as much as I hate him, I can't let go of the memory. Not entirely.

Chenille's voice snaps me out of my reverie. "Earth to Lila! You okay? You looked like you were a million miles away."

I blink, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sorry. I got lost in thought for a minute there."

She eyes me suspiciously but doesn't push. "Oh, you know what we should do—double date! You, me, Miranda, and her new arm candy. Maybe we'll run into more of his friends."

The thought of being in the same room as a baseball player, let alone my roommate's latest boy toy, makes my skin crawl. I don't like this. Not at all. I can't shake the feeling of unease settling in my gut. The past is creeping up on me, no matter how hard I try to outrun it. And with Miranda's new beau in the picture, I have a sinking suspicion that things are about to get much more complicated.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'm not really in the dating mood these days."

Chenille sighs dramatically as the bell above the door jingles. "You're never in the dating mood, but I'm not taking no for an answer. Not this time. You're blowing off those cobwebs and getting yourself back out there. Your vagina needs a good memory boost—aka dick."

"My vagina is just fine! Spectacular even!" My voice carries a little too loud, as evidenced by the amused cough. "Please don't tell me that's Mr. Brinkley."

Chenille's shoulders shake with laughter, and I want to sink to the floor. The little traitor isn't even trying to hide it. "Yep, and your number one fan looks intrigued."

"Oh, God." Plastering on a smile that I'm sure makes me look like some deranged weirdo, I turn to greet my next customer, Jett Brinkley. Jett is one of my regulars who owns a massive Tibetan Mastiff named Max. It's the breed I want to own someday if I ever leave the city. "Hello, Mr. Brinkley."

"Lila, I think you can call me Jett by now." There's a smirk on his face, along with a slight tease in his voice. But then his eyes dip to my spectacular crotch. He seems to realize what he has done and rights himself. Giving his head a slight shake, he beams at me. "How's my favorite groomer doing today?"

"Favorite groomer, huh?" Chenille chimes in, tone teasing.

I brush off her playful jab and set down the fresh towels. "Can't complain."

"One could say it's spectacular," she murmurs.

Eyes widening, I shoot Chenille a warning glance. To Jett, I say, "I'll be ready for Max in just a moment. He's here for the usual today, right?"

"Yes, but he could use some extra pampering. He's been a good boy."

"Sounds like someone else has also been well-behaved. Maybe he wants to be pampered as well," Chenille teases.

I mouth, "Stop it," but when I look at Jett, I'm nothing but wide smiles. "We'll take excellent care of him."

Max wags his tail as if sensing what's coming, his deep brown eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"I know. You always do." He winks before sitting in the waiting area.

Before long, my station was tidy, and I led Max to the grooming table. Jett leans against the counter, his pale blue eyes sparkling. He's an attractive man—average height and build, not overly muscular, but strong enough. He looks slightly older than me. He's everything I want in a partner on paper, yet there's no spark between us.

"Did you watch last night's game?"

"Uh, no." I have to fight the urge to smack Chenille at her failed attempt to rein in a laugh. If this is Mr. Brinkley's attempt to hit on me, he's going about it all wrong.

"The Bears won. Thanks to that new catcher we picked up over winter, the winning streak continues."

My hands falter as I clip the leash to Max's collar. I haven't followed sports news for years, so I wouldn't know about the team picking up a new catcher. But the only catcher's name I know is Drake's. No chance that they can be the same person. Last I knew, he played for the Phillies.

"Is that so?" I manage to ask past the tightening vise around my throat.

"Yeah, Drake Gunner. Rick Bosley and him are going to lead us to the World Series this year."

The name slams into me like a fastball to the gut, stealing my breath and sending a chill down my spine.

"Oh. That's … nice." But it's not. It's awful. There's no way this is real. Drake Gunner cannot live in the same city as me.

Mr. Brinkley nods enthusiastically, oblivious to my discomfort. "Oh yeah, he's a real prodigy. They dubbed him Bad Ball Hitter because that guy can hit anything. He frustrates the hell out of the pitchers."

My hands shake as I guide Max onto the table, memories of high school flooding back like a relentless tide—back to the broken promises, the memory of Drake's smile, and that effortless charm that could knock the wind right out of my sails. My stomach clenches. It's a reflex now, an involuntary tightening of old wounds, and I hate it. I hate that he still wields power to make me feel this way, even if it's just a ghost of a sensation.

I swallow hard, fighting back the sudden emotion threatening to consume me. I'm stronger than this. Have been for years. "I-I'm sure he'll be a real asset to the team."

I can sense Mr. Brinkley's curious gaze as I brush Max's thick fur. "You okay, Lila? You look a little pale."

I force a laugh, but it sounds brittle and fake even to my own ears. "Oh, I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

Chenille gives me a questionable glance, but I ignore her.

Mr. Brinkley shrugs, satisfied with my explanation. "Well, I won't keep you. I'll be back in a few." He points behind him. "Have to run a few errands before heading home."

As he turns to leave, I feel a sudden, irrational urge to call out to him, to beg him not to go. It was as if keeping him here, talking about anything other than Drake Gunner, could somehow erase the past that was knocking on the forefront of my mind. But I can't stop the memories from taking over…

"I don't understand. Why would we need to end things?" My voice cracked, betraying the desperation I felt.

Drake's face was set in a determined expression, his jaw clenched tightly. "I'm heading off to college, Lila. I can't ask you to sit around and wait when I have no idea what my future looks like. That isn't fair to you."

"But that should be my choice," I protested, feeling the weight of a promised forever crashing down on me. Each word seemed to lodge a new dagger in my heart.

"We're eighteen. Fuck, we still have an entire lifetime ahead of us."

A life that we promised to spend together.

"You're really leaving this town and me behind?" I whispered, hurt and betrayal lacing my voice.

"What do you expect me to do? I'm never going back. And you'll be heading off to college, too. Our paths changed."

I stared at him, my heart aching. This was the man who swore he loved me, who promised me forever. Was it all just meaningless words? No. This makes little sense. This isn't him. "What's really going on, Drake?"

He looked distraught. Wrecked. He shook his head. "Don't make this harder."

"Don't make this harder?" I screeched. "We've been together since we were eight years old. What do you … why are you doing this?"

His hands flexed as if he was trying to keep himself under control. "Trust me. You'll be better off."

"What happened to going the distance? You said I was the one, that I was your forever girl." I thumped my fist against my chest, the necklace he gave me suddenly feeling like a lead weight. "I wear the words next to my heart."

"I'm sorry, Lila," he said, his voice choked with emotion. He reached for my hand, but I yanked it away, hugging myself as the world spun around me. "I … I think it's for the best."

"Best for who?" My voice sounded hollow, distant. "Best for you?"

He didn't respond to that. Instead, he gave me one last look filled with regret and remorse. It made my heart ache for him, but I couldn't bring myself to comfort him. I was the one who always stood up for the Wild Child when everyone else gave up on him. Now, he was giving up on me.

Pride and hurt kept my mouth shut as tears streamed down my face. No matter how much it hurt, I wouldn't beg him to stay with me. My father had drilled into me never to chase after a man. But damn, it felt like my soul was being ripped apart.

"Fine. I get it. This"—I waved my hand between us—"was just high school. But I was the one who was always there for you. Your constant. I was the one who always stood up for you." I paused, barely keeping myself together. "Guess not anymore."

"Don't be like that." He reached for me, but I stepped back. He dropped his head and sighed in defeat. "I wish things were different. But Lila, please know that I did love you."

Did. The final nail in the coffin of our relationship. His attempt at consolation failed miserably, sending my heart spiraling into a bottomless pit.

"Good luck, Drake." I turned to walk away, leaving him with these parting words, "I hope you make it to the big leagues."

In less than four months, that searing pain rushed back while scrolling through social media and seeing a picture of Drake with his arm around some leggy brunette, smiling that same smile that used to be mine. A knot formed where my heart should've been and hadn't ever left. Clicking ‘unfollow' felt like self- preservation, like lancing a wound to let the poison bleed out. But it wasn't enough. He'd show up on my friend's account. That was when I deleted my entire social presence. The girl might have been some nameless, faceless body that meant nothing to him, but she meant everything to me. It was a stark revolution that I needed to close the chapter on Drake and shelve the book on the highest shelf possible.

It's probably childish to be hung up on your high school sweetheart, but what we had was real. Or I thought it was at the time. And the kicker? Nothing has come close ever since.

With a deep breath, I finish grooming Max and step back to admire my work. His coat gleams soft and smooth under the bright lights of the salon.

If only fixing a broken heart was as simple as grooming a dog.