My resignation is effective immediately. I have a flight to San Diego tonight, and I’ll no longer be checking my work email or messages after I sign off for today.

Goodbye.

Sincerely,

Eliza Angelo

Done.

I log off and leave my ID badge on the keyboard.

It doesn’t hit me until I stand up and stretch for the last time.

Leaving this place is harder than I expected.

This lab has all the stuff coffee dreams are made of, and now I’m saying goodbye.

I cleaned up well after that last batch, but I grab a few towels and wipe down the counters again anyway for good measure.

Bad move.

A million memories flood my head like swarming bees.

Destiny’s adorably awkward baby seal impressions. Her freaking out over turtles and dolphins and her eyes shining so bright the first time she was back on the beach after I showed her how to surf.

She’s too sweet for life. I’ll miss experiencing the world through her young eyes.

And then the obvious, everything good and bad and impossible to forget.

Cole.

His wildfire kisses.

Those searing nights in paradise that permanently stole a piece of my heart.

Cole leaning over me, tangled in his huge arms, a rough growl on his lips as he pushes his way inside me.

Cole grumping at everyone but me.

Cole telling me he loves me in the worst way possible—and then robbing me of the chance to hear it, to see it on his face.

God.

Our stillborn love darts across my mind like a violent racquetball.

Memories I wish like hell I could forget, but can’t.

The sweetest memories turned sickeningly bitter.

I shake my head, pressing a palm to my mouth.

If only he’d been honest from the start, he would’ve spared us both some agony.

But I still hope our brief time together did them some good.

I’ll never completely regret it if the trip to Kona took the edge off old tragedies. For Destiny, at least, that seems to be true.

After I grab my suitcase, I head upstairs and out the door—right into a frigid rain and a growling sky.

“Yikes!” I sputter, slinking back against the wall.

The downpour floods the gutters and drowns out the world, drenching everything in sight. The street isn’t full of puddles—it’s a freaking river.

“Way to go,” I mutter, pulling out my phone for the forecast I should’ve checked hours ago.

How could I forget what Gina said?

I barely read the words heavy rainfall, thunderstorms, three hours before my hair starts falling down my face in wet, clumped strands.

I race back toward the exit door and pull, but of course it’s firmly locked. And in all my infinite wisdom, I left my badge inside, thinking I’d never need it again.

Brilliant.

There’s a bus shelter on the curb, just a quick jog across the parking lot.

I think. In this mess, it feels like it’s ten blocks away.

I can’t see it clearly in the pounding rain and hazy darkness, but I know it’s there.

With a deep, exasperated breath, I take off at a ground-eating run, dragging my luggage behind me.

I’m not sure how any Lyft driver sees me through this storm. I haven’t even had a second in this mess to order a ride yet.

Not that it matters.

I’m an ugly, drowned rat before I’m even close to the bus shelter.

With my footsteps splashing water up my legs, I finally hit the sidewalk, just a few more mad paces from that stupid shelter.

Then a car whips past, stops, and backs up next to the curb. The passenger window powers down.

“Who invited the whole ocean into town? You need a ride?” a familiar voice asks. I see Troy Clement’s leathery grinning face and let out a huge sigh of relief.

I grab the passenger door handle and hop in. He turns on his flashers while he stalks outside to grab my bag and stuffs it in his trunk.

“Oh my God. Thank you so much!” I gush once he’s back behind the wheel. “Today has been a crap sundae and this is just the cherry on top.”

“Yeah, I saw your email. You okay, Miss E-lectric?” His sharp silvery eyes shine with concern.

I wince a little without showing it, shivering in the sudden blast of AC. But hearing him mention my resignation also plays on my nerves.

I didn’t expect to have to answer to anyone face-to-face after sending that email.

Water drips off my hair and nose as I tilt the vents away from me.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I finally say.

“Here.” He puts his heater on full blast, which helps with the soggy chill. I just wish he wasn’t giving me that hangdog look dripping with sympathy. “What happened, lady? I hate like hell to see you go. You just taught that old hound dog some new tricks with those killer fucking drinks. I really thought you had a future with Wired Cup—and with Cole. Hell, I thought you were the future.”

I cringe, heat rushing to my face.

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