Melanie’s mouth popped open. “Really? Well that’s very thoughtful of you, Ellie,” she said, as though hardly able to believe that I had made the offer to begin with. I understood her incredulity. I had never been her biggest fan in the past.

“Sure,” I said, taking her place at the cash register.

“What about you? Are you going to be okay getting home? Do you have somewhere to stay if it gets too bad?” Melanie asked.

“I’ll be okay. I can always sleep on the couch in the back if I need to,” I said, not relishing the idea of setting up camp in the back of JAC’s for the night. But looking outside, I wasn’t sure I would be able to make it past Main Street.

Melanie slipped her arms into her oversized parka and put up the hood before heading out to her car. “You know I just live three streets over. If you need a place to stay—“

“Thanks. I’ll be fine,” I said, cutting her off. No way in hell I’d subject myself to that brand of torture.

Melanie gave me one more bright smile and left, the bell above the door dinging as she made her exit.

I looked around the empty convenience store and wondered what the hell I was doing.

I felt as though I was twenty years old all over again and not a day had passed since I had last been there. And while some familiarity was comforting, this made me feel…stuck.

I let out a sigh and went into the storeroom to grab the boxes of groceries that needed shelved, knowing exactly what Jeb would expect me to do.

The hours passed in a blur. It was busier than normal as a result of the weather. I sold out of milk, eggs, and toilet paper; the three essential items for being snowed in, apparently.

As night descended, the customers dwindled and the roads, now piled high with snow, were desolate. I put on my coat and walked out front. Everything was quiet in that perfect way that only comes with a snowstorm.

I stood there for a long while, staring out at my hometown and for a brief second I experienced something that felt like serenity. The cold must be short-circuiting my brain.

My phone started buzzing in my pocket and I pulled it out to see Flynn’s number on the screen.

“Hey, you,” I said in greeting, surprised to hear from him.

“It’s snowing,” Flynn said without preamble.

“Yes it is,” I replied, going back inside and taking my coat off, shaking snow on the floor.

“You need to come home,” he all but demanded, sounding a little panicked. What in the world was wrong with him?

“Flynn, I’m working at JAC’s. You know that,” I told him calmly.

“Close the store and come home. The roads are bad,” he stated firmly.

“Flynn, I can’t do that. I have to keep the store open until closing,” I explained. I resumed my place behind the counter and perched up on the stool. Several of the security cameras were covered with ice, and I couldn’t see anything on the monitor.

“I don’t like you not being here when the roads are bad. It makes me nervous,” Flynn said, and I couldn’t help but smile. I wasn’t used to having someone worry about me.

“I’ll be okay, Flynn. And if I think it’s too bad to get home, I’ll stay here,” I tried to reassure him.

“You’ll stay in the store? That sounds awful.” Flynn sounded aghast.

I snorted. “Yeah, well Jeb has a couch in the store room. It’s warm in here. There’s food. I think I’ll survive.”

“You shouldn’t sleep on a couch in a storeroom. You should be home with me,” he protested.

“I wish I was. I’d much rather be there with you than here,” I remarked, looking up when the bell chimed over the door, wondering who would be crazy enough to be out in this weather.

“Will you call me and tell me if you’re coming home or not? I feel worried with you there. I don’t like it.” Flynn’s voice was tight.

“Of course I will. I’ll call in a few hours,” I told him. There was a moment of silence and then the click of the phone as Flynn hung up. No goodbyes. Just silence.

Flynn wasn’t the best at closure in any form.

The customer, all bundled up in a thick over coat, with the hood up around their head, held a crying child in their arms as they struggled with a basket.

I came out from behind the counter and headed toward them. “Do you need some help?” I asked, reaching for the basket as it fell from the woman’s grasp.

She pushed back her hood and looked up and my smile froze on my face. “Thanks, Ellie,” Dania said, looking flustered. Her daughter, Lyla wailed in her arms.

I took the basket and stood awkwardly beside my former friend. I hadn’t seen Dania since our run in at IGA. And our parting of ways hadn’t been particularly amicable.

Dania bounced the unhappy child on her hip, seeming frazzled and exhausted. “You’re working here again?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” I said shortly. The silence lengthened between us as Dania tried to shush Lyla and I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

I cleared my throat, feeling the need to say something. “Why in the world are you out in this shit?” I asked and then grimaced. “I mean, snow. Sorry. Forgot there were kid ears present.”

Dania laughed. “She hears worse from me on a daily basis.”

I gave her a strained smile that instantly fell from my lips and died there.

Dania hefted Lyla up and patted her on the back, the little girl finally quieting. “I live just around the corner. I wanted to pop in and get a few things before heading home,” she said.