We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye

WE JUST COULDN’T SAY GOODBYE LAYNE DEEMER Copyright © 2023 by Layne Deemer (laynedeemer.com) All rights reserved. Proofread by Marla Selkow Esposito (proofingstyle.com) Cover design by Murphy Rae (murphyrae.com) No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For Adam because the simple life is always the happiest and the happiest life is with you CONTENTS Author’s Note Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Want a FREE book? Acknowledgments About the Author AUTHOR’S NOTE This story was inspired by a playlist I discovered on Spotify. The moment I started listening to it, these characters came to life in my head and I put everything else on hold while I told their story. If you want to listen to Cole and Sylvie’s music, you can find it here. Please note, due to adult content, my books are recommended for readers age 18 or older. For a detailed list of content/trigger warnings, please visit my website. Thank you! CHAPTER ONE “Careful!” I call out to the elderly man beside me. He was about to plunge his foot into a puddle, but thankfully, I caught him in time. He smiles and turns the corner, giving me a wave over his shoulder. I grin, feeling like I’ve done my good deed for the day. But no good deed goes unpunished. As I approach the road, a blue minivan comes careening around the corner. Its back tire dips toward the curb and into the tiny river of water flowing toward the storm drain. I’m standing too close, but I have no time to react as a spray of dark, polluted rainwater flies out of the street and onto my leg, where it runs down into my shoe. “Well, that’s just perfect,” I mutter. The van continues driving, unaware of the destruction left in its wake. Or maybe they saw it all. Maybe they’re filming me right now, and I’ll be the next viral video. I can see it now. WOMAN STANDS LIKE A DROWNED RAT AFTER GETTING PELTED WITH RAINWATER Fantastic. How am I supposed to go to work like this? If Jackie sees me, I’ll never hear the end of it. But I’m too far away from home to turn back. If I do, I’ll never make it in time. I stand motionless on the sidewalk, ticking my head back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. I could go home and call in and say I’m running late. Jackie would have a field day with that. No, I’m not giving her the ammunition. She’s had her eye on my corner office ever since I moved in last month. She’s been hard at work, trying to find an angle to weasel in and swipe it from me. But I can’t show up looking like this. I need to at least dry off. I hear the faint sounds of old music. The kind with muted trumpets and a slow, even tempo. It takes me a moment to figure out where it’s coming from, but I follow the sound across the street and stop in front of a small brick cafe with a wide, curtained window and a quaint little sign that reads Cole’s Cafe. Funny. I’ve never noticed it before, but I don’t usually walk to work this way. My normal route is under construction, and I was catcalled enough yesterday to last me a lifetime. I’m sure this cafe must have a bathroom. I could pop in and attempt to dry off my leg and try to salvage my leather Mary Jane. When I push the door open, I’m not at all surprised to hear a little bell. This is exactly the sort of place that would have that detail. I give the interior a once-over, finding it cozy and warm. It’s also rather empty at the moment, which is a little mortifying for me. I had hoped to not call much attention to myself, planning to slip into the bathroom and back out without being noticed, or at least only marginally noticed. There’s a row of small round tables along the wall, each with two chairs pushed into them. A long white counter lines the right of the cafe. Actually, it takes up the entire wall. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a lengthy counter. Round silver stools with bright orange cushions are dotted around the counter. They’re the kind that have been cemented into the ground, and I bet if I sat on one, it would spin. “Hi there, miss. What can I get for ya?” a rich, deep voice calls from somewhere behind the counter. I’m a bit stunned because I didn’t notice anyone when I first walked in. And now that I’m looking, I still don’t. “Um, hello?” A man pops up with a rag in his hand. He’s wearing a white apron and a dazzling grin. “Sorry. I was just filling up the ice tray,” he tells me while running the white rag along the counter in wide circles. My smile is shy when I respond. “I didn’t see you there when I came in.” He smiles back, but there’s nothing timid about him. “What can I get started for you?” “Oh, uh,” I