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Marysville, Tennessee, population four thousand one hundred and twenty-two.
The green sign welcomed me while the lunch I ate on the road threatened to revolt. There I was, returning to the town I swore I’d never see again.
I swore I could still see the blood staining my hands as they gripped the steering wheel. Sure, it’d been seven years, and no one else could see it, but it was there. A monster inside of me coiled tight, waiting for the moment to strike again.
There was only one person who could bring me back there.
Marley Bickerstaff. The small town’s grandma to everyone and the neighbor I met the day my parents’ moving truck pulled in across the street from her house.
I owed her a favor for not telling my parents about the night she caught me drinking in Mr. William’s barn.
She’d called that favor in, and it was Marley. No one could say no to her, not even me, even though I’d learned how to use that word with rapid frequency since leaving this place.
Hard to argue with her most recent letter, though.
I’m dying, Eden. Please come stay with me. Let me see you one more time before I leave.
A lump lodged in my throat as I reached town. Familiar sights dotted Main Street, one of the few ways to get to Marley’s home, were as vivid in my memory for the last seven years as they were in person. Few things had changed, but I noticed differences. The laundromat appeared ready to crumble at the next gust of wind, but the lights were still on, and a handful of people were inside. The old hardware store now held a teal and cream sign, curly lettering across the front of a bagel. Some building’s brick fronts were in desperate need of repair. Others freshly painted.
My palms turned clammy as the diner appeared on the corner. Burgers and milkshakes after football games and sitting outside on tailgates of trucks…memories I had never been able to squash.
It was the middle of a Wednesday. Streets from the hair salon down to the bars had cars lined up out front. I was careful not to focus on anyone who might recognize me, not that the odds were high. My car would keep me anonymous until word got out.
No one would argue with Marley for inviting me back, but I had no doubt they’d save their vindictiveness and their arrows spiked with hatred for when I was alone.
Which meant I might be returning to Marysville for a while, but I’d be returning to town as infrequently as possible. The road curved as I left the small downtown, sharp turns uphill as I turned to the side roads of the hilly farming community twenty miles north of Nashville. My engine roared as the last steep hill had me turning almost one hundred and eighty degrees. I curved past Pheasant Lake with its resort, large enough to help boost the summer economy, small enough that the memories I gathered there in the one year I lived in this town pummeled me. My tires rumbled over the bridge past the bait shop and then it was a sharp left.
That food in my stomach rolled and twisted.
Two more minutes and I’d be back there.
Staring across the street
at the home I once lived in.
The home next door that had once held the only boy I’d ever loved.
I couldn’t do this.
Wouldn’t.
What had I been thinking?
Marley had an entire town of people who would take care of her. She didn’t need me.
I yanked my car to the side of the road and checked for traffic before cranking it into a three-point turn and headed back to town.
I’d let Marley down. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’d call her. She was asking too much. Hell, I’d had this same mental argument for the last nine hours, but now that I was there, I couldn’t do it.
My pulse raced and my speeding heart thundered in my ears as I white knuckle gripped the steering wheel back through the tightly wound streets. I turned right before I reached downtown and pulled into the park’s parking lot. It hadn’t changed a bit.
This was stupid. So very, very stupid. Why in the hell had I come back here?
I never should have left Florida. Never should have agreed to this. I should have gone on and continued talking to Marley through handwritten letters.
No one would want me here. No one would welcome me back into their small town like they’d once done.
Hell, as soon as word got out, I’d probably be run out of town anyway.
No.
I reached for my phone. Marley would be upset, but I’d explain.
Movement on the swings at the playground grabbed my attention as I dug through my purse for my phone, and I stilled. Hand wrapped around my screen.
A woman stood nearby, smiling at the boy who pumped his legs fiercely to get as high as he could. The woman brushed hair back and my breath stalled. Their smiles matched, but that was where the similarities ended. From her well-highlighted blonde hair and blue eyes so vividly bright I could never forget them, my jaw unhinged itself as I sat there, hand still holding the phone and frozen as Selma Holden b
rushed her hair off her shoulders.
Shit. Of all the people to see first. I couldn’t do this. Could not see her, could not move through the same small town as her again. My phone rang in my hand, startling me. Expecting Marley’s call, I was surprised to see another name on my screen.
Mom.
I silenced the ringer and stuffed it back into my purse.
Shit. Was my entire past determined to push me today?
Selma said something, laughed and waved for the boy, her son, to hurry up. I should have been shoving my car into reverse and hightailing it out of Marysville and back to Pensacola as fast as my Toyota could take me there.
But that boy…Jasper…Cole’s son. Everyone in the entire country knew the story of Cole and Selma and Jasper. Knew Cole’s tragic history that had kept him rooted in his hometown. As soon as my parents and I left Marysville and headed south, I’d tried as hard as I could to avoid the mention of his name. It’d worked for a few years. Until Cole Buchanan was drafted to his hometown football team the Nashville Steel after making a name for himself at Vanderbilt University.
Yeah, I needed to go go go, but I couldn’t.
Because Cole’s son, looking so much like him, was flying through the air, landing on hands and feet in the mulch while Selma waited for him to dust himself off. She settled her hand at his upper back and somehow, my feet were forcing me out of the car.
I should have stopped. Should have done all the things I’d already decided I’d do and yet I followed them, past the park and around the corner and with the sun beating down on me, my gray cardigan hugged tightly across my chest, despite the roasting summer heat, and my keys in my hand the only thing I grabbed from the car.
I stayed my distance until the boy screamed, “Dad!”
My keys fell to the pavement and the world around me ceased to exist, narrowed to only the view I had of him taking off down the sidewalk, Cole Buchanan crouching low, arms wide out as the boy jumped into his arms.
Cole Buchanan.
The boy I loved.
The boy who was never mine to love, never mine to have, but we hadn’t cared in the end.
Cole Buchanan, hugging his little boy on the sidewalk while Selma, his high school girlfriend’s best friend until I swooped in, smiled down at both of them, ruffling his hair.
Cole and Selma had a son together.
I’d known it. Of course I had. As soon as Cole was drafted in the first round, his story made national headlines. The boy who’d lost his high school sweetheart in a tragic accident. The boy who gave up his athletic scholarship to play at Vanderbilt so he could stay close to home. The man who had a son his second year of college and stepped up to raise his boy, moved back to his hometown. The man who was drafted to the NFL and still stayed living in his hometown, twenty miles north of Nashville.
I’d known it all. Gotten swept away in stories of him for weeks before I managed to pull myself out of the darkness seeping back into my mind.
But seeing it? I staggered back a step and around the corner of the building, where I slammed my back against the harsh brick. It scraped and snagged on my sweater as I furiously blinked away tears, trying to will the vision of what I just saw into a false reality—where Cole was mine. Where Selma minded her own business.
Where Hilary was still alive.
“No. No, no, no.” This was worse than all the nightmares I’d had combined. This was worse than the nights I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and couldn’t fall back asleep for days.
This was so much worse—because it was real. And I was viewing it in person, well, hiding behind the building like a lunatic because if Cole and Selma were together like the media so often questioned—
Why in the hell had Marley wanted me to come back and have that thrown in my face?
Why in the hell was I here?
Screw the favor. It’d been years since that night in the barn. She could go ahead and tell my parents. It wasn’t like I talked to them anyway.
My chest seized all over again. My hands trembled and my knees shook so hard I slid down the wall, reveling in the scratch along my back. The pain kept me grounded, alert, at least until I fell to my ass, my knees bent in front of me. I pressed my forehead to my knees, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe.
I was safe. I was alive. I had Marley. I had parents who never gave up on
me even if I gave up on myself a long time ago. I had a career I loved. The sun was out, brightening the trees around me and the heat pushed through my clothing to remind me my flesh was alive. That my heart still beat.
I grounded myself, focused on all the things that were true and the things I could be thankful for, or at least acknowledge, until the knotted ball of fear and regret loosened in my chest, making breathing easier.
It was only then when I was sure I could stand without falling over, I set my hand on the pavement to push to my feet and a shadow, followed by two hot pink and black athletic shoes, stepped into view.
Selma’s presence had been a force in high school, and it had not diminished over the years. If anything, her presence had me trembling all over again, more so when she finally spoke.
“I didn’t think you’d have the guts to come back here.”
Selma grew up Hilary’s best friend. A third wheel to Cole and Hilary, the town’s beloved high school sweetheart couple, the three of them were attached at the hips until I showed up. I hadn’t intended to bump her out of the lineup, had never wanted to, but that was….
It happened before I knew she’d despise me for it. Before I ever met her, and I could never make it right no matter how hard I tried to stay away.
That was what Cole and I had been from the moment we met, magnets circling, attached and being yanked apart. By Selma. By Hilary—but considering she’d been Cole’s girlfriend, that was her place.
It took effort, more than I thought I had, to stand tall and push off the brick wall. “Marley insisted.”
A cop-out. I could have told her I had all the guts to do whatever I wanted, but it was a lie, and I’d promised myself years ago I’d never lie again, regardless of the cost of the truth.
Her beautifully highlighted blonde hair fell past her shoulders as she tilted her head. Selma was gorgeous. Always had been, but where Hilary had that sweet girl next door sweetness to her, Selma’s sharp edges and features belonged more on the cover of Vogue.
Certainly not in this small country town.
I was surprised she was still here—but given her and Cole…well, ther
e was a time I would have stayed for him, too.
Almond-shaped eyes narrowed into slits, only highlighting her ocean-blue eyes. “He won’t want to see you, and I want you to stay away. From him and our son.”
My eyes closed as her barb sliced through me as intended.
“I will.”
“Yeah, well, I’d believe you, but I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you but know this—when he heard you might be returning to town—well, let’s just say I know for a fact he won’t want to see you either. Ever again.”
She turned on her rubber-soled shoes and floated away with grace, leaving me in tatters.
Of course, Cole wouldn’t want to see me ever again.
I already knew that.
I just hadn’t realized hearing it would hurt so much.
“Jasper! We need to get moving, buddy. Your mom is going to be here any minute.”
My son ran at speeds hovering one thousand all day long until it was time to leave our house. Then he trudged through molasses, slow as the day was long. Already I was hating that summer was almost over and school would start. Then he’d be trudging through molasses with lead-weighted boots.
“Bongo needs to go out!” Jasper jumped the last step on the stairs and tried to dodge me, but I reached out, snagging the back of his shirt and pulled him backward where his shoes and bag for his mom’s house were by my feet near the front door.
“Shoes on.” I ruffled his hair. “Grab your breakfast on the kitchen counter. I’ll get Bongo.”
Bongo, the one-year-old Golden Retriever Jasper had to have. We rescued him three months ago, and I was pretty sure the only reason we did was because of Marley. We’d heard the worst news regarding her diagnosis. Jasper hit me at the wrong time, the wrong day, and Selma doubled down by telling me she’d help when I had to travel.
I’d refused at first, as I did with most of Selma’s offers to be closer than she knew I wanted, but that changed the day I came home after a long day of off-season training to the escape artist puppy who’d somehow freed himself from his kennel and tore open the couch cushions. Stuffing had turned my living room into a winter wonderland of fake snow. He’d even somehow managed to upend the coffee table my grandfather and I had built when I was ten. I could barely flip it over by myself, it was so heavy.
How the fifty-pound puppy managed to knock it over, much less escape from his metal kennel that was perfectly locked when I checked it, still made me wonder.
Bongo, who was mostly house trained except for when he got overly excited with any visitor, was at the back door, long furry and golden tail whipping against the glass as he whined at the leaves blowing in the wind.
Great.
I grabbed his leash from the wall next to the door and fought through his fur to get it on, get him outside, frustrated with the dog I was coerced into getting against my will, Jasper’s procrastination every morning and the fact that even though it worked, and it was mostly healthy, I had to hand him over to Selma before I went to work almost every day.
Our custody worked easier than most separated parents I knew. She worked nights at a hospital in Nashville four nights a week, working seven to seven. I got Jasper every night she worked. She picked him up on her way home and dropped him off at preschool or one of our parents’ houses, leaving me an hour to get ready by myself before I headed to either the practice facility or to the gym in the off-season. We switched off in the evening when Jasper saw his parents who might not be together but still cared about each other—and him—and then, on the weekends, we alternated. Some holidays were done together, depending on whose family was around or if trips were planned, or whether I had a home or away game.
As amicable as it was, saying goodbye to my kid every day knowing he was shipped back and forth to two homes, grated on me daily. The shit of it was, I had the power to fix it…but that meant living with Selma. Marrying her. Committing to her.
And I didn’t feel a single urge to do any of that, even if she kept trying.
Like with Bongo.
As predicted, my dog lunged for a leaf, almost yanking me off my feet. I gave him a quick tug.
“Heel.”
He refused. On the hunt, so I gave him a little lead on the leash.
I’d work on training him better this weekend, my weekend alone.
Hell, maybe I’d forgo handing him off to Selma and putting him in doggy daycare like I kept threatening. Maybe a board and train.
The animal could certainly use it.
A knock rapped on the sliding door, and in my peripheral, I caught sight of teal scrubs.
Shit. “Come on, Bongo.”
I pulled him back inside, unsurprised that Selma was already there. She never wasted a minute getting to my house, but she didn’t usually walk inside like she owned it. Her presence, along with Jasper’s procrastination, forced me to suck in a deep breath and clench my mouth shut before I spewed my irritation at her.
It was more than Selma.
She’d be back in town today. Maybe already was.
Seven years and I wasn’t ready. Not for a minute to run the risk of meeting her on the street.
When I was with Jasper at the park.
Shopping at the grocery store.
Ever since Marley told me she’d asked Eden to return, I’d counted down to this day. Anticipation. Fury. Guilt. It clawed at me, kept me up at night, last night in particular.
It was like I could sense her. Practically scent her again. So much so that it was all I’d been able to do not to stop by Marley’s last night, see if a car was there. Keep my ass inside so I didn’t go to my parents’ house and wander to the one place we always seemed to find each other when we needed each other the most.
“You look like crap.” Selma’s smile, most likely dazzling to everyone else, was tight.
“Considering you’re on day three of your night shifts, I could say the same.”
That smile she used to dazzle others dripped with disdain.
So we got along and cared about each other—that didn’t mean I’d ever actually liked her. The only good thing to have come from my lifelong friendship with Selma was Jasper.
“Charming as always.”
You’re the one who wants me.
I bit back the retort. I was on edge from Eden returning, not Selma, and as much as she and I could fight verbally, this wasn’t her problem.
“Jasper’s almost ready to go. I’m going to take Bongo to the doggy daycare south of town I told you about.”
Her brows tugged together with displeasure. When it came to Selma, that was a frequent reaction. Outside the one night we spent together where it wasn’t, but even then, it hadn’t been pleasurable or passionate—more like comfort food.
Not that I’d ever tell Selma that. I’d end up with her palm print against my cheek.
“That’s not necessary. I’m happy to help—”
“I think it is.” Necessary. Sometimes Selma grew too comfortable—welcoming herself into my home was only one example.
“Dad!”
“Coming!” I left her gaping after me at the back door and hurried to find Jasper. He was sitting on the bottom stair, shoelaces knotted, and his chin was wobbling. “It’s all right, buddy. I’ve got it.”
I crouched down and unknotted the mess he made while my insides went to work doing the exact opposite.
I was finishing the second shoe, and Jasper’s near meltdown was forgotten when Selma reached us, Bongo on a leash and kindness back on her face.
“It’s no problem, Cole. You—”
I stood and leveled her with a look. “It is, and he’s going to the daycare. And you know why.”
The leash fell to the floor as her eyes widened. “You’ve seen her already.”
The statement dropped like a bomb while Bongo whined at my legs, sniffing mine and Jasper’s shoes, knowing we were leaving, and he was getting
a car ride.
“Bongo’s going to a daycare?” Jasper asked, but it came at me through a tunnel.
“What do you mean, I’ve seen her?” My teeth gritted on instinct and my chest burned hot. Too hot. Too tight.
Her lips pressed together, and she glanced at Jasper. Crouched between us, he had his fingers digging deep into Bongo’s fur, scratching behind his ears like Bongo loved.
“Yeah, buddy. Bongo’s going to make friends. Socialize and stuff. He’ll have more fun than sleeping all day.”
“Dogs can make friends?”
“You bet they can.” I ruffled his dark hair and grinned down at him even if my teeth felt like they might snap in two from grinding them so hard.
My gaze snapped toward Selma completely forgetting…everything. But if she knew…that meant…
Seven years and Eden Barclay was back in town.
“It’s obvious,” Selma said, and there was a snappish tone to her voice that meant trouble. “She’s here. You’re already changing things. You said—”
Forget what I said last month when Selma heard what Marley had done and showed up at my house throwing a tantrum about how everything was going to change if Eden returned. I’d tried to reassure her, but shit. What did she expect?
“How do you know she’s here?”
“Who are you talking about, Mommy?”
Selma smiled down at her son. Probably the only time she gave a genuine one was to him. “An old friend, honey.”
“Friend? Like the kind of friends Bongo will make.”
Selma chuckled, and she lifted her eyes to me. “Sure, Jasper. Just like the dogs Bongo will make friends with.”
My lip curled into a snarl and so help me, if Jasper wasn’t there…if I wasn’t a gentleman…
No. I’d do nothing either way.
Because Eden left when I needed her most, and the mere reminder still hurt so damn much.
***
It was hours later, after I’d gotten ready for work, after I’d forced myself not to climb in my truck, drive all the way through town to Marley’s house to bang on her door. It was after I’d shown up for practice, put in the bare minimum of work because preseason started soon, and this was our last easy week. It was after I’d left the locker room, not bothering to talk to any of my teammates, something I never did and had already received a half dozen text messages about, and it was after I’d returned home, forced myself to go to my own house instead of my parents’ where I could see her.
Selma had thrown me off my game with a simple, assuming question, which only left me with more of my own I hadn’t been able to shake.
What made her think I already saw Eden?
How did she know she was back in town?
And what difference did it make? She wasn’t here for me. Hell, if Eden was back and was staying at Marley’s request, I doubted she’d ever show her face in town. That would take a strength Eden had never possessed and people could change a lot in seven years, God knew I had, but that meant Eden would have had to grow a whole new personality. I doubted it was possible.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted her to. I’d liked the one she had until it bit me in the ass.
No, I needed to forget she was here. I had a new season coming up, Jasper was starting school soon, and over the last couple of months, Selma’s attention toward me was growing to uncomfortable levels.
I had enough female drama in my life, hovering at a breaking point, I certainly didn’t need to add more to it.
That was all Eden would give me. Drama. Pain. A dash of hope before she tore it away.
I did not need to lose a whole damn day thinking of two women who at most made me feel the need to have a stockpile of antacids in my truck and my gym locker at the age of twenty-six years old.
“Shit,” I muttered and closed my laptop where I’d been paying bills. I needed to run through plays, start watching films for our upcoming game. It might have just been preseason and we were fortunate to be starting the season with a healthy, veteran lineup, but we’d be going against teams with new coaches and fresh blood. Fresh fire fueling their veins. Every game counted. Every play counted. From the first snap of the ball in our first preseason game to the very last snap, hopefully at the end of the Super Bowl in February. Every single second I was on that field calling a play or on the sidelines cheering on my defense counted to me.
Which was why I shouldn’t have been thinking of driving to Marley’s. Or to my parents.
And even if I did. What would I do then? Scream at her?
What good would that do?
She made her choice the day she didn’t show up for Hilary’s funeral, leaving me to deal with the fallout of our decisions and betrayal alone.
She left me.
Seven years ago, Eden left town without looking back, leaving me alone to deal with the fallout of our teenage decisions, and yet I could still see her smile, feel the warmth of her touch and the rapid beat of my heart when I sensed her presence.
No…I needed to stay away.
I couldn’t be around Eden until I figured out how to protect my heart all over again.
It had taken me a while to decide to stay yesterday.
I planted my back against the brick wall until well after Selma left and ran through all my options ad nauseam until I finally realized the truth.
If I left now, I’d never heal. I’d never move on, and I’d certainly never trust anyone again. My life would stay as stagnant as the pond in my parents’ Missouri backyard, growing moss and algae.
At least from the pictures they sent, since I hadn’t seen it yet in person.
Which was probably why I’d finally agreed to come and stayed after my run-in with Selma.
Something had to change, and the only thing left to change was myself.
Marley’s raspy voice rattled from her bedroom downstairs, forcing me to roll out of bed.
Sounds of movement in the kitchen had me moving faster. After I finally dragged myself to her door yesterday like a puppy with its tail between its legs, ashamed I’d almost left her, we sat and caught up. It didn’t take long before she started yawning. She’d claimed she wasn’t tired, but I’d taken over cooking a quick dinner using the ingredients in her stocked fridge before she went to bed.
She’d slept all night.
I woke up feeling like I’d run a marathon in my sleep.
Sliding into my fuzzy white slippers, I grabbed the lightweight gray robe from the back of my door and hurried down the stairs. Marley said she could get dizzy easily, especially before she’d eaten.
The last thing she should be doing was standing on her feet, cooking breakfast over her ancient gas stove.
“I’ve got breakfast, Marley!” I called out before I reached the bottom of the stairs.
Besides, with her memory failing so quickly she was just as likely to use a cup of sugar instead of flour in the pancakes.
I found her in the kitchen, filling the coffeepot, and for the hundredth time since I walked into her house, I was transported back to a better time—where things never changed, including the crocheted doilies draped over her dark purple couch or the rainbow-colored braided rug that covered her seventies linoleum chipped floor. For certain, if I were to pull up the rug I’d find the missing square in the middle of the kitchen floor, cut up after Cole once dropped a bowl of pickled beets on the floor. No amount of scrubbing with bleach had been able to remove the blood-colored stain.
“Sit. Sit.” I guided her to one of the kitchen chairs, dark walnut wood with red and gold striped chair cushions tied to the seats.
“I’ve been making coffee every morning longer than you’ve been alive, you know.”
“And the doctors said you have to stay off your feet as much as possible which is why I’m here, right?”
A liver-spotted and cold hand that seemed to have aged thirty years and not seven patted
my hand.
“Yes, yes. I know that. Hard to accept some days, is all.”
“Well, now you have me.” I squeezed her hand and kissed the top of her head, full of gray hair and curled in a way I knew someone had to be taking her to the salon for her weekly blowout.
Who had stocked her fridge, kept her yard mowed, and the house cleaned was a question I wasn’t going to ask.
Cole’s parents probably, if they still lived next door. Or even Cole himself.
It didn’t even have to be him. Half the town of Marysville would stumble over each other to help a woman who had helped so many.
There’d be hundreds to step up and help, but Cole would have been first in line, his parents right behind him, especially during his off-season.
“I saw some bacon in the fridge last night,” I told her as I headed toward the coffeepot. It was faded, more yellow than white and was almost as old as me. It didn’t have any of the bells and whistles, like a clock or timer function anything built in the last fifteen years had. “Do you want some eggs and bacon for breakfast? Toast?”
She coughed, the sound rattling in her chest and reached for a tissue in the center of the table. Boxes of them were now everywhere in her home, always within reaching distance.
I paused while she coughed again and cleared her throat.
“Maybe just some toast this morning. And then you and I can chat.”
I tried to think of a hundred ways to avoid this conversation, but I didn’t have anything else to do except to sit and talk with her.
“I’m making bacon and eggs for me then,” I muttered and turned to her fridge. It was newer. White and had a side-by-side door and fridge that replaced her old yellow one we always teased her about.
“Can’t avoid me forever, Eden. Not when you’re standing in my kitchen.”
“I know.”
But I’d sure as hell try
for as long as I could.
After breakfast, Marley and I headed out to the backyard. She looped her hand through my arm and told me to take a walk with her. I figured my reckoning was coming, but instead, she stayed quiet as we strolled through the path between her trees to the lake out past her acreage.
Marley’s home was on a small, no-wake bay on Pheasant Lake. Where the other side of the lake held resorts and the constant hum of lake activity from March to November, this small bay was always gentle. Peaceful.
It was the same now, and the muscles in my shoulders and back that knitted themselves into knots yesterday slowly unfurled as we walked.
Marley must have sensed my need for quiet, because instead of jumping into the conversation I knew she wanted to have, she didn’t. We spoke of nothing important and whispered about the weather and fall coming soon. Her favorite parts of fall and which trees turned the best colors. At her first yawn, I guided us back to the house and I was now cleaning the kitchen while she napped in her bedroom.
Cancer. Glioblastoma in her brain that was discovered far too late for any effective surgery and she was opposed to any chemotherapy to shrink it.
Women so special shouldn’t be destroyed so slowly or viciously. On the table, she had a list of doctors, her upcoming appointments, and her medicines all lined up on a lazy Susan with weekly pill organizers ready to be filled. I’d sit down and have her walk me through them when she woke so I could ensure I didn’t mess it up, but someone had taken the time to type up an organized spreadsheet and tuck it between the pills.
There was also my own list of things I was working on other than just grocery lists and medicines. I was back to take care of Marley because she didn’t have blood relatives remaining, but I still needed to find something to keep me sane.
Which meant hunting down the local humane societies or vet clinics to see if they needed volunteers. I would have to eventually go back to work, but volunteering would do for a while.
My head was down in my phone, pulling up Google Maps listings of all the shelters in fifteen miles, that when a firm knock hit the front door, shaking the glass storm door outside, I barely paused.
I should have.
I should have known better.
I should have realized that a delivery man wouldn’t knock on the door or that Marley wouldn’t have unannounced visitors.
But I wasn’t thinking fast enough for that.
Truth be told, I hadn’t done a lot of thinking ever since I agreed to stay with her.
Which was why I opened the door, head still down at my phone, and before I caught a whiff of scent or heard him speak or took notice at all of who was at her door, I already knew it was him.
Cole. His mere presence was enough to have the floor beneath my feet shifting.
“I didn’t think you’d have the guts to answer the door or show your face around here ever again.”
Seven years.
Seven years since I heard his voice. Since I saw the tortured look in his eyes when I told him I was leaving.
Seven years since I’d seen the man I loved in person and not on a television screen, and that was the first thing he said to me.
Not that I didn’t deserve it.
“Marley’s sleeping.” It was as much of a dismissal as it was a warning.
He stepped into the home like he had every right to be there—and he did—because that was Marley’s rule. Everyone was always welcome, and I had no doubt he’d done his fair share of taking care of her over the years.
The move was abrupt. Each swift and steady movement from him jolted me backward until I was grabbing onto the railing for dear life, and Cole was standing in Marley’s entryway, glaring at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe.
Pretty much the way he looked at me the last time we spoke.
Time had been good to Cole. So had life. That wasn’t a surprise, but staring at me then, he sucked the oxygen straight from my lungs and the entire room around us, making my chest seize and my legs turn to jelly.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
He was supposed to not want anything to do with me.
“What do you want, Eden?”
“I’m here to help Marley.”
“Bullshit. You stopped giving a shit about her the same as you stopped giving a shit about this town and the destruction you left us all to deal with the second y’all left.”
Every word pierced my chest like an arrow dipped in venomous poison.
He was right. About almost all of it.
I had never stopped caring about Marley. She never let me. I’d also never stopped caring about him. Never stopped following his career that wasn’t mine to enjoy. Never stopped cheering for his success at Vanderbilt and then with the Steel, even though he was supposed to leave Marysville and go to Tennessee instead.
But that was before we killed his girlfriend.
