“And when was the last time you went to a mall anyway?” I asked dryly.
“At least I had the option!”
“Well, you also have the option not to be a complete brat, but you didn’t take that either.”
She huffed and sat back in her seat, shooting me a glare. “Do you blame me? I don’t get what you thought was going to happen. We lived in Atlanta for almost three years. And then youtell me a week ago we’re up and moving to this tiny shithole in Maine. How am I supposed to respond?”
I blew out a long breath, my shoulders sagging even as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I wished I could park this freaking car so I could look at her to have this conversation. But we still hadn’t found this stupid, fairy-tale-sounding Meadowbrook Lane, and I wasn’t going to let this sit any longer.
“Look, I get it. I know you were feeling settled in Atlanta, and it sucks we had to leave. Believe it or not, I don’twantto make you feel this way. But I didn’t have a choice. My contract was up, and there weren’t any other positions available in the area. We couldn’t have stayed there, even if I wanted to.”
What I hadn’t shared with her was that being a traveling nurse had more downfalls than just the constant moving. My last toxic working environment was proof enough of that. For once, I didn’t want to worry about what I was walking into. And working with an old friend, whom I’d always clicked with, was about as much of a guarantee as I was going to get. Plus, splitting my time between Quinn’s clinic and one day a week at the high school as their nurse meant I’d actually have regular hours for once.
“Yeah, but what about the position in Boston? At least there, I’d have something more to do than tipping cows or whatever the hell they do here.”
I blew out an exasperated sigh. “Like I’ve told you eleventy billion times, I didn’t get that job. I gotthisjob.” I glanced over at her, her jaw set, brow furrowed. My beautiful, stubborn girl. “I love this fire in you, and I never want to stifle it. But I’m doing my best here, Lolo. I know you don’t think so right now, but Starlight Cove is a good option for us. I’ll be able to work less, so we can hang out more. Plus, I have a friend here, and I haven’t been able to spend much time with Quinn since college.”
“Yeah, well, I have zero friends here.”
“That’s not true. Your best friend is here.” I reached over and jostled her shoulder repeatedly. The move earned me another eye roll but not before I saw a tiny quirk of her mouth.
“After this move, you’redefinitelynot my best friend anymore.”
“No? Well, maybe I’ll earn back the title after I bribe you with pizza, ice cream, and a scary movie tonight.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Laurel grumbled.
After what felt like years, Meadowbrook Lane finally appeared around a bend, and I turned down the scarcely populated street. It held a handful of homes, all of them set back far enough from the road on plushly landscaped lawns that I couldn’t evenseethe houses. A rich-person neighborhood if I’d ever seen one.
“Finally,” I grumbled under my breath, turning down the driveway of 1425.
Thank god we’d gotten here early enough that it was still light outside. If I’d had to navigate this in the dark, I wasn’t sure I’d want to travel down this incredibly secluded driveway. That was how horror movies started.
Finding a rental in a town that had basically zero available at any given moment had been a feat I hadn’t been expecting when I’d accepted the job. Luckily, a friend of a friend of Quinn’s had a place they weren’t using but also hadn’t gotten around to renting out. Even better, it was a third of the cost my rent in Atlanta had been.
As we drove down the long, winding path, I glanced over to find Laurel’s face a replica of mine—pinched brow, pursed lips…an eternal skeptic.
“Where the hell are we?” she mumbled. “Getting murdered our first night here will only prove my point, you know.”
“We’re not going to be murdered.” Probably. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m sixteen, Mom, it’s pretty much a prereq—holyshit.”
“What?” I asked, whipping my head around to where she was staring.
And then I saw it.
“Holy fuck is more like it,” I murmured.
A house the size of the governor’s mansion loomed ahead, just through a copse of trees. When Quinn had told me this rental was a guest cottage, I’d been expecting a large main house. I hadn’t been expectingthis.
A winding, brick-lined path led to a huge, two-story Craftsman. It looked both modern and rustic, with its dark gray siding and stone facade surrounding the front door. A covered porch housing a pair of Adirondack chairs was framed by timber supports matching the exposed beams in the peaks of the roof.
Our quaint little cottage—a miniature replica of the main house, complete with its own front porch—sat tucked into the back corner of the lot, the ocean as its backdrop.
“At least the house is cute. And look—it’s right on the beach,” I said.
She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t the overdramatic gesture of just a few minutes before. Which meant I was making progress. I’d take any small step I could get.
