Rock Bottom (Dawson Family 6)

“Could you be here in the morning? I have an opening at ten.”

“I’m about five hours away. But yeah…I think I can drive up there tonight, crash with my parents and be there by ten.”

“Great! I have to conduct interviews, but between you and me, it’ll be informal. I know you and I still have your resume on file from when I hired you last time.”

“I’ll see you at ten.”

“Great! It’ll be so nice to have you back, Rory!”

“Yeah.” I’m struggling to hold it together. “Thanks for calling me about this.”

“I said I would. See you soon, Rory.”

“Bye.” I end the call just in time. A sob escapes my lips. I cry as I drive, tears rolling down my face. I pull into my spot at the apartment and give in, ugly crying until someone walks by and taps on my window, asking me if I’m okay.

I’m struggling to breathe, heart aching like it’s been split in two. Dean was everything I wanted…only he didn’t want me. I don’t know what’s worse: losing him or feeling like I’m not enough for him to commit to.

I swallow another sob and nod, then mop up my face and call Mom, ignoring the missed calls from Dean. I’ll call him back, but not yet. My heart can’t take it.

“Hey, honey!” she says, answering on the second ring. “Is everything all right? You never call.”

“Yeah,” I say, putting on a fake-ass smile, forgetting she can’t see me. “One of the nursing directors from the old hospital called me and offered me a job. She asked if I can come interview tomorrow morning.”

“Back here in Silver Ridge?”

“Yeah. As a unit manager.”

“Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful! But what about your job in Eastwood?”

“I’d make more as a unit manager,” I say, though I don’t know if it’s true. I got a big pay raise at Eastwood since the hospital is better. “And it’s what I wanted, remember? Be a manager and then the director. Are you not happy to possibly have me back?”

“Of course I’m happy to have you back. I thought you were happy where you were, and that’s the thing I care about most: seeing you happy. What about that handsome man you were seeing?”

My throat feels thick and tears stream down my face. My lips part but I can’t form any words. “It…it didn’t turn out to be what I thought. Dean—” I cut off, feeling overwhelming pain when I say his name. “He wanted to keep things casual, and that’s just not I want.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I grip the steering wheel and put another terrifyingly fake smile on my face. It’s far from fine, and my heart is breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as time goes on. I let my guard down, trusted and believed him when he said he wanted something more.

I’m so stupid.

“Since the interview is at ten,” I start, speaking slowly to hide the emotion in my voice. “I’m going to drive up tonight.”

“It’s not too late?”

“Cars have this crazy new concept called headlights.”

“I’m aware,” Mom deadpans. “Drive safe. Love you, Rory.”

“Love you too.”

I end the call and lean forward, crying so hard my eyes hurt. My heart is a mangled mess in the bottom of my chest, and my poor mind isn’t in much better condition.

I can’t think straight, so I focus on leaving. On driving. On putting another miles between me and this stupid place. I should never have come to Eastwood. Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all obviously never got their heart brokend.

I kill the engine and run inside, feeding Figaro a can of food and overfilling his bowl of dry kibble. I quickly rinse out his water bowl, refill it, and grab stuff a duffle bag full of everything I need for tomorrow, not putting much care into picking out my interview outfit.

Then I’m out the door and on my way home.

Only…it doesn’t feel like I’m going home. It feels like I’m leaving home.Chapter 37DeanFuck you, Kara. I bring my fist down on the counter, hard enough to cause pain to ripple through me but not hard enough to do damage to anything. Then I rush into the garage, desperate to get to Rory. I open my truck door and get in, only to realize I don’t have the keys.

My mind is a fucking mess, and it takes me nearly ten minutes to find the keys, which I left in my jacket pocket. I jump back into the truck as soon as I have them and speed to Rory’s apartment. Her Jeep isn’t in the parking lot, but I’m not giving up just yet.

I park the truck and run to her door, knocking. She doesn’t answer. “Rory?” I call, knocking again. “Are you home? Please, Rory, let me explain.”