Slowly, Nettie reached for the deadbolt and turned it. Metal scraped against metal, a sound far too loud in the silence. She hesitated, every instinct screaming she was about to be tackled the second the door opened.
She cracked it.
Still nothing.
The night air drifted in, carrying with it the faint scent of cut grass and remnants of a distant barbecue. She held her breath, bracing. The bag hadn’t moved – but did she expect it to?
She could almost hear the news report already.
Local woman meets tragic end in bizarre gift-bag bombing. Neighbors describe her as quiet. Shy. The kind of woman who really should have known better, but alas had a heckuva stupid moment...
Except they would be more eloquent, naturally.
She hoped.
Grimacing, she pushed the door wider and stepped out onto the porch. The wooden planks creaked beneath her bare feet.
“Hello?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. She cleared her throat and tried again, louder. “Hello?” Her fingers paused over the twine handles, almost like her hands were second-guessing herself too – and lifted it, closing her eyes against the potential blast, the bottom breaking out, the incendiary dog poo, whatever.
She waited, cracking one eye, and braced herself… for nothing.
It was just a bag.
A brown craft paper bag that had a little something inside that wasn’t very heavy. As she lifted it closer, her heart skipped a beat wildly as her brain said, ‘Don’t! It’s not for you!’… and she plucked open the handles, the staple giving immediately.
And held her breath.
Peering slowly inside, she hesitated, angled her head to the side in confusion and looked up, glancing down the street as she took in the pale skeins of angora wool yarn inside the bag. The fuzzy skeins were practically glowing with almost a fairy-like luminescence as they sparkled from the fragile silver threads shot through the pale pink yarn, and then saw the note.
Her breath caught as she touched the small envelope and slid it open, bracing herself as she expected to see someone else's name on the card. As she pulled it free, her throat worked, words failed her, as she stared at the heavy script on the paper trembling in her hand.
Impress me again – Tate
Mind spinning, knees sagging, Nettie braced a hand on the door frame as she stared to the left, in the direction of his parents’ house before turning to the right, curious if she would see taillights in the distance.
Had he dropped this off on his way there, or on the way leaving from their place? And why? This meant that he’d gone back to the store after running into her, had picked it out based on what she’d told him, and put thought into this gift— for her.
Wait – did he go back?
Or had she interrupted him shopping for her secretly?
Her fingers touched the fragile and expensive yarn, almost in a wistful caress, and hesitated. There, on the side, was the mangled skein he’d had in his hand. He’d gone back and purchased it - along with three others – for her.
Walking slowly inside, she collapsed on the couch in her spot, holding the skeins in her trembling hands as she tried to put this together.
Why in the world would Tate have done this?
CHAPTER 6
NETTIE
Shannon’s armlocked through hers before Nettie even had the chance to resist.
“C’mon, Chicken,” Shannon teased, her voice light and carefree as she practically dragged Nettie across the wide porch and toward the looming doorway of the Cassidy house.
The Cassidy house.
A place that had once been almost as familiar to Nettie as her own home. She and Shannon had spent entire summers running barefoot across this porch, chasing Gina through the yard, collapsing in giggles beneath the oak tree in the side yard. As adults, the house hadn’t lost its warmth—but Nettie had stayed away. A whole year, give or take, since her grandmother’s funeral. Since the house she lived in had gone quiet and empty, and every little reminder of laughter made her chest ache.
