Page 16 of When Forever Falls Apart

But then I remember what Esmerelda warned me about—the past will always find a way back.

Every quiet moment invites it back into my memories—all my actions, all my regret. For just one day, I want to feel like the whole world is new and exciting, and that every hard decision is well worth the heartache.

Inside my pocket, my phone vibrates with a text message. I pull it out, only to see a message from my mom checking in to see if I got to the city okay. I decide to swipe out and call her later, only to see the notification on my phone, “Memories—one year ago today.”

The photo is of Myles carrying me on his back as we walked along the sandy white beach in Bora Bora. It was an impromptu trip, and the moment I realized I loved him.

I was so happy.

At least, I thought I was.

CHAPTER 5Elliot

The only silver lining of being in Cinnamon Springs is that Manhattan is a two-hour drive away.

My hands grip the motorcycle’s handlebars as the journey is met with a refreshing breeze. Cinnamon Springs is known for its rolling hills, which provide a picturesque backdrop for the quaint small town. When I reach the south end of Peppermint Lake, the familiar“Thanks for visiting Cinnamon Springs. It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later”sign appears at the crossroad.

I take the sharp right, then slam my foot on the pedal to experience the open road and all its glory. It’s not long before the fields are built up with sprawling homes, and soon, suburban life surrounds me.

My sister texted me just after nine with what she deemed a crisis. The kitchen appliances appointment had to be rescheduled for today, and Eva is counting on my culinary knowledge to select kitchen equipment for the new store opening in the city. It means Billie and Chloe have to cover my shift at the café so I can get to Brooklyn before the store closes at four.

Thankfully, Billie was already on shift, given that she works full-time. As for Chloe, the casual employee, she had to forgo her plans with friends at the lake. Chloe wasn’t exactlyhappy to bail on her friends. It’s hardly shocking, considering Chloe belongs to Gen Z, and my interactions with her have been challenging at the best of times. She’s friendly, cute, and does a good job when she’s working. I just don’t understand how or why this generation repels work as a whole. Eva mentioned she’d previously had conversations with Chloe about taking on more responsibility and becoming permanent, but it was met with a shoulder shrug.

And silence.

Then, a “We’ll see.”

My sister also likes to remind me we are Gen Z so I shouldn’t bad-mouth our generation.

Eva is standing at the front of the store, tapping her foot impatiently. The moment she casts her gaze on me, the corners of her mouth lift slightly as she subtly exhales.

“You’re my saving grace,” she greets me with relief.

I tousle my hair, then unzip my jacket to cool down. The city isn’t as warm as the country, but the humidity feels extra stagnant today. I wore my jeans and tee—nothing special—and the ride over here took longer than expected.

“I’ll remember that the next time I need a favor.”

Eva laces her hand in my arm. “Anything for you, big brother.”

My eyes wander to the absurd tank top she’s wearing, which reads,“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”I perish the thought.

“Did you have to wear that top?” I complain.

She glances down. “I stole it from Maddy’s suitcase this morning.”

My head angles in confusion. “Who?”

Eva presses her lips together in a grimace. “Maddy. Madelina. Aston’s sister. She’s back in the States after spending a few months in Europe. Actually, she was in Paris, so you guys should have a lot to talk about.”

We enter the store, and I immediately welcome the air-conditioning. The cool air spreads across my skin as we’re greeted by the owner, Edgar. He politely shakes both our hands, then leads us to the main showroom.

“Is this your fiancé, Miss Woods?”

Eva quickly shoves me in the opposite direction as we both shudder in unison. We don’t look alike, so people tend to make this ridiculous assumption when they see us together.

“Oh God, no. Elliot is my brother. He’s a Michelin-star chef from Paris,” she rushes to inform him.

Edgar raises his brows. “Well, isn’t that something?”