Not Pix and I.
After Charity died, Pixie and I just stopped talking.
In fact, the first time I saw Pixie after Charity’s funeral was just a few weeks ago, when she started working at the inn. And her presence took me by complete surprise.
I walked out of my bedroom and there she was, in her yellow dress, looking lost and found at the same time.
Little Pixie, whom I had spent my whole life loving and one night destroying, was standing outside my bedroom with pink toenails, a blue suitcase, and a look on her face that made me feel like I was home.
And God, I wanted to be home.
But guilt’s a hungry bastard, so any thoughts I had about hugging her and begging her to forgive me for hurting Charity—for hurting her—were swallowed alive by the shame in my soul.
We stood in the hall, staring at each other in confusion for a minute before a very strained conversation took place.
“Uh… what are you…?” I had no words.
She licked her lips. “I just started working here. In the kitchen. For my aunt. School’s out, and I couldn’t stand the idea of staying with my mom.”
“Oh.” I nodded, staring at her mouth. “Ellen must have forgotten to mention that to me.”
She shifted her weight. “What, uh… what are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
“Oh.”
I paused. “And I live here.”
Her eyes widened briefly, then turned expressionless. “Really.” She inhaled. “Ellen didn’t tell me that.”
Awkward silence.
I cleared my throat. “So if you’re working in the kitchen, what brings you up here, to the east wing?”
She bit her lip. “Uh, my room’s up here?”
“Your room?”
“Yeah, I uh… I live here now. Too.” She pointed to the bedroom door next to mine, and I nodded, thrilled and terrified. Mostly terrified.
“So I guess we’ll be sharing a bathroom.”
Her eyes moved between me and the bathroom, then slid to our bedroom doors. “I guess so.”
We locked gazes, and suddenly that stupid pigeon of sexual tension was in the air, swooping all around us.
Once again, I cleared my throat. “I’ll be seeing you, then.” Then I left down the stairs, trying to outrun the heat from her body and her pretty green eyes.
That was the first conversation we’d had since the night of the accident, and in all the conversations since then, we’ve never once mentioned Charity’s name.
We exist as though Charity is still alive. I treat Pixie like she’s my annoying little sister, and she treats me the same way. It works. It helps. And it’s familiar.
Except we’re not like siblings. At all.
I reach Ellen’s office and rap my knuckles against her door.
“Come in,” she says from within.
I let myself in and leave the door open. “Do you have my list for today?”
She looks up from her computer screen and hands me a piece of paper, looking exhausted and stressed out.
“What’s up?” I take the list from her hand.
She sighs and rubs her temples. “Yesterday was a disaster. I can’t have the fire alarm go off every time it rains. Guests will just freak out.”
I shrug. “So install an updated system.”
“Right. I know.” She looks back at the computer. “I just don’t know where to start. I’ve been looking up alarm systems all morning and there are so many and I have a ton of other work to do and a bunch of new guests are arriving this afternoon, and I’m just so overwhelmed.”
“I’ll do it.” I smile, partly because I’m sincere in my offer and partly because Ellen reminds me of Pixie when she rambles like that. “I’ll do research and figure out what type of alarm system would suit the inn best.”
Her hazel eyes light up. “Really? Ah! Levi, that would be great.”
Haley knocks on the open office door and finds my eyes. “You have, uh… visitors.”
I frown. “Visitors?”
“Visitors.”
“O-kay.” I look back at Ellen. “I’ll start doing research this week—sound good?”
She smiles brightly. “Sounds excellent.”
Leaving her office, I follow Haley back to the lobby, where I find Zack staring at the Fourth of July flyer by the front door—and beside him is his goat, on a leash.
“Seriously?” I say as I near them. “You brought the goat inside?”
He turns. “He has a name, you know. Marvin.”
“You brought the goat inside.”
“Well, I can’t leave him in the car. He cries and screams and it’s very unsettling. It’s like toting around a hairy toddler.” Zack points to the flyer. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
“About the Fourth of July thing?”
“No. About the cornhole tournament at the Fourth of July thing. We are so doing this.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
Ellen walks past the lobby in her high heels, stops in her tracks, and turns back around to face Zack.
She points at Marvin. “Is that a goat?”
Zack nods once. “Yes, ma’am.”
“In my lobby?”
“Yes, ma’am. But he’s a friendly goat.”
Ellen plasters on a polite smile. “I don’t care if he’s a tap-dancing goat. I want him out of here.”
“Ooh. Harsh,” he says. “But fair. Come on, boy.” He pulls Marvin away from the activities board, where he was chewing on a flyer for bingo night.
Ellen turns to leave, her heels clicking on the wood floor as she sings out, “Thank you, Zack. Always a pleasure to see you.”
“You too, Ms. Marshall,” Zack calls out, lowering his voice as he watches her walk away with his lips parted. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine…”
“Dude.” I stare at him. “Stop it.”
He yanks his eyes away from Ellen and mocks an innocent grin. “What?”
I shake my head. “Come on.”
Zack and Marvin and I walk out the back doors and stand beside the lavender field as the morning sun slips behind a few leftover storm clouds. The smell of rain still clings to the humid air, but otherwise the storm has cleared out.
I cross my arms. “So why are you here?”
“Very blunt. I like it.” Zack pulls Marvin away from the potted flowers Ellen has flanking the back door. “You’re being a stubborn jackass.”
I raise a brow. “Me? Or the goat?”
“Both of you, really.” Zack tries to unwind himself from the leash as Marvin starts walking around him in circles. “But mostly you.” I watch Marvin yank on the leash and nearly trip Zack.