I should have fought back. I should have donesomething,but the emotions were too potent to do anything but accept it at face value.
Years later, the truth had prevailed—her deception had been brought to light and I’d been slowly letting those wounds heal.
In this house.
In this town.
And thank my lucky stars, I haven’t run into her since being back in Magnolia Point. But even if I did, she has no hold on me now. The thought is comforting, and I let that little win bring me back to the present.
I can see Aspen through the front windows, dancing around the kitchen, and I’m so grateful I was able to convince my best friend to move with me.
Aspen, Bea, and I had all gone to college together and worked for a while after. Bea had gone through a nasty breakup, and with the help of Aspen’s brother, Montana, moved to their hometown of Blackstone Falls to start over.
I missed her. The three of us had been inseparable, but barely a few weeks into Tennessee living, she’d met and started dating a guy she claimed might bethe one.
I didn’t believe much about love, but I did believe in second chances, and being back in Magnolia Point was mine.
Letting my fingertips trail along the railing, I take in the setting sun and the palmetto trees so classic to the Lowcountry.
It’s funny the things you forget.
But not nearly as much as the things you remember.
Part of me had been afraid to come back here, but the other had relished in seeing the new businesses thriving in town. The coffee shop, Mug Life, had become a favorite stop for Aspen and me before we started our day.
Did we brew coffee for the morning rush?
Yes.
Was it nice to have someone else make it once in a while?
Also yes.
Plus, supporting other businesses was how we ended up at the Save our Seas conservation effort at the beach and why on Tuesdays we parked at the Hayes Resort, one of our many regular spots in Magnolia Point.
I make it a point to support all the local businesses in town with the exception of Lowcountry Automotive.
Been there.
Done that.
Had the police complaint to prove it.
Talon had denied any involvement, and while most times I was too stubborn to hear it, a deep, dark part of me believed him. But it was somehow easier to blame him, given our history, than believe that someoneelsein our community was being intentionally hurtful.
Other times, like today, he continued to be deliberately aggravating, and any warm and fuzzy feelings I’d developed vanished into thin air.
Suppressing a growl, I push open the door and step inside, the smell of basil and garlic making my mouth water.
“What’s the verdict?” Aspen says, looking up from the pot of sauce on the stove, and my shoulders slump.
“He said he’s working through the night but…” I let my voice trail off, and she doesn’t hesitate to finish it.
“But it’s extra.”
“Yeah.”
“Listen,” she says as she pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge, pouring me a glass and sliding it across the island, “I know you hate Talon, but that other guy is a creep. He overcharges us and the truck keeps breaking. I swear he’s not fixing it.”
