Page 8 of Never Too Late

And without even glancing my way, same as he did seventeen years ago, he turned around and walked out, leaving me behind.

Shattered.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze, thankful there weren’t any patients that came by and needed a doctor, only loads of paperwork to do.

My predecessor wasn’t big on paperwork, or that was what Christine, my new nurse, told me.

I was grateful for that. It gave me an excuse to keep my head down and bite my lips so the tears wouldn’t come and no one could see me do it.

When it was time to go home, I practically ran out of the office, ignoring my new co-worker and maybe in another life, the one where I was strong enough to do what I thought would end up doing, and stayed in Hopeful to try to live my life. But, after the way Dylan treated me and demanded me to go away, it was no longer a possibility.

I barely shut the door of my grandmother’s house behind me before the first whimper broke through.

On the first sob, I threw my bag and coat on the hallway floor.

With my phone in my shaking hand, I dialed the number just as the first burning tear scorched its way down my cheek.

And when I heard her picking up my call, my voice broke on her name, before I collapsed on the floor in tears.

And all the way through, Tessa cooed in my ear while I told the tale of Dylan in broken sentences.

Something I hadn’t shared with anyone before.

3

Past

“It’s not as horrible as you thought it was, is it?” A smug voice came from behind me.

I was watching a girl touching the well, muttering her wish to its depths. I never believed in the town’s lore about that well making the wishes come true, but it was entertaining to watch all the people who did. People from all over Colorado, and sometimes from other states, came to Hopeful just to make their wish near that well. I gave one more look at the girl and turned around and smiled at my grandmother and Mrs. McConnell.

They were standing side by side, two polar opposites. Where my grandmother had warm brown hair that came all the way down to her waist, just a touch of mascara on her eyelashes and a blush from the harsh winter on her cheeks, the touch of the cold as she called it. She was wearing her mint green sweater that fell off her shoulder as soon as she would move, a white tank top under it, and blue jeans that had a rip on its knee under her gray coat. On her head, she had a green knit cap.

Mrs. McConnell had blonde hair cut into a bob, full makeup on, and she had a sweater dress on that fell just under her knees. And she had killer high-heeled boots on. I would never say it out loud, but I would hunt and kill for those boots. But the coat. I would consider giving my firstborn up, just to get my hands on the faux-fur that was gracing her shoulders.

Damn, but Mrs. McConnell knew how to dress.

At first glance, they weren’t the type of people who you would peg to be friends. But those two were thick as thieves. Always there for each other, no matter what.

“I never said it was horrible,” I said through a smile.

“Not by using words,” my grandmother stepped up next to me and took my elbow in her hands, she started walking, looking forward and pulled me slightly with her, steering me toward a walkway. “But everything about you screamed it, darling.”

Before I had a chance to try and come up with a lie, she patted my arm. She always did that to get my undivided attention. “I understand why, Sophie. I even hated it for you. You were never supposed to end up living here.”

I didn’t say anything because she was right. Hopeful was supposed to be a town where I would come for visits and enjoy my brief stay. Then, I would go back to Denver to live my life. Instead, that was taken away and a new reality was shoved down my throat the night my parents died.

God, I remembered how much I detested it. I couldn’t stand Hopeful or its people, especially during a time like this, Christmastime. The whole town dived right into it and everything revolved around the decorating ceremony. People all over Colorado came here to be a part of it. But over time, it became home. A beautiful one. One I loved more than anything now.

I leaned my head on her shoulder and inhaled her scent, vanilla. Home. Love. “But you made it my home, and I love it now.” It took me a long time to admit that.

“Is that why you still didn’t tell me about Boston?”

I stumbled as my head shot up and I looked at her. She didn’t look back at me. She kept strolling and nodding her head to people, giving them a small smile. A proud one. The only sign that she asked something so shocking was her pulling me more into her side.

“I…” I started but didn’t finish. I didn’t know how. How did she even know about it? Three months ago, I got my acceptance letter for med school. Not any med school. Harvard Medicine. And while I was originally over the moon, as the months went by, I realized I would need to move to Boston, which meant, move farther away from Hopeful, from my grandmother. It was one thing to live in Denver and go to college there. I could come home for a visit practically whenever I wanted to. But, moving to Boston, for at least four years, was more difficult.

“Does this silence and the fact that you didn’t tell me about med school have anything to do with your decision to move home this last semester?” She continued to look forward, not looking at me.