Garnet Flats (The Edens)

Vivienne. But still, it was so familiar. Achingly familiar.

I’d never forget the day I saw that ring.

Foster’s boss had asked him to run an errand, to pick up a pair of earrings that was a gift for his daughter. So I’d gone with him to Tiffany’s because in those days, we’d been inseparable.

While we waited for the saleswoman to bring out the earrings, Foster and I wandered the store. He challenged me to a game. He asked me to pick out my favorite ring and he’d try to guess which one it was.

He found it on his first guess.

Because out of all the elaborate, glittering rings, he’d known I’d pick something simple and delicate.

A ring I could take on and off with ease. A ring I could wear on a chain around my neck at work without the stone digging into my skin. A ring that would look beautiful on my finger, even when my skin was chapped and dry from frequent handwashing and disposable gloves.

That had been a week before he’d told me he was marrying Vivienne.

A week before he’d shattered my heart.

He couldn’t move here. He couldn’t live in Montana. We’d cross paths. There was no way we wouldn’t run into each other on Main or at a store. Quincy was too small to avoid a man like Foster. Somehow, I had to convince him to leave. Somehow.

But first, I needed to clear my head. I needed to sort out my heart. So this morning after showering and eating a quick breakfast, I’d left the house and come to the place where I’d always found peace.

Tally.

No one called me Tally. Not my parents, my brothers or my friends. Everyone used my full name.

Except Foster.

He’d thought it was so fitting, not just because of my name, but because I tended to count in tally marks. I’d watched all of his fights and sparring rounds with a notepad on my lap filled with tiny lines.

Strikes landed versus strikes attempted. Kicks versus punches. Takedowns and tap outs.

The tallies had been a way for me to curb my nerves. If I was busy keeping count, then I worried less about him being kicked in the ribs or punched in the face.

Just like tallying my good days at the hospital. Those marks, even when I had to erase them, gave me a positive focus. A goal.

Tally.

I hadn’t been Tally in a long time. Until yesterday.

It was like being blasted back in time, to the days when Foster had been the biggest part of my life. The days when he’d been so close, he might as well have been the thump in my heartbeat.

And the ring . . .

Why? Why had he bought that ring? Especially if it hadn’t gone to his wife. When had he bought it?

It looked exactly like the ring I remembered, but that was impossible. He wouldn’t have bought a ring for me when he married

“Dinner, Tally.” It was a mistake to use her nickname. I knew it the moment her expression blanked. Gone was the confusion. Gone was the anger.

She shut me out faster than I could blink.

“Get out of Quincy, Foster.” She marched across the floor. “I don’t want you here.”

The cold air rushed inside as she ripped open the door and stormed outside.

“Fuck.” I dragged a hand over my face. A pop of teal velvet caught my eye.

The ring.

She’d dropped it on the floor.

I walked over and picked it up, holding it in my hand for a long moment.

Was I pushing too hard? Too fast? That was the only way I knew how to go. But it was exactly how I’d lost Talia in the first place.

“Round one.”

Round one was over. And I’d gotten my fucking ass kicked