I tell myself he’s being paranoid. That Carson doesn’t even live in this town, and he knows better than to show his face back here. My shoulders loosen and I’ve almost got myself convinced when my phone buzzes.
I take it out, thinking maybe Scott’s woken up and seen the photos of the shop I sent, but it’s not from Scott. It’s an unknown number. And when I read the message, my blood stops.
Unknown Number: I know what you did, bitch. You should have stayed away.
Chapter Three
Lola
You can’t break into the school, Lola.
Oh yeah, who’s going to stop me?
I am.
- Conversation between Lola, age 17 and Roman, age 24
In an act of great maturity,I decide to pretend I never got the text from the unknown number. I can’t exactly tell anyone about it without opening myself up to questions I don’t want to answer. So, I bury my phone in my pocket and try to focus on other things, like how I’m about to ruin family dinner.
My detour to the cliffside made me late, which, you know, wasn’t a great start to the whole put-together responsible image I’m trying to create. Plus, I’ve spent every second since I got here trying to avoid meeting eyes with my mother, who sees too much, and Roman, who makes me feel too much.
I didn’t realize Roman was going to be joining us today, but I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job of pretending the ice cream cart incident simply never happened. Denial and I are good friends.
I haven’t told my parents why I decided to finally come home but I’m pretty sure my mom knows something happened because she’s been hovering like it’s a competitive sport. I was a preemie baby though, so I’m used to her over-protectiveness. A shrink would probably tell me it’s why I started acting out in my teens. And maybe they’d be right, but the other reason I did stupid shit was because every time I did, Roman came to bail me out and I was young and in love and I wanted his attention.
Right now though, I really don’t want it.
I scrape my fork along the plate, pushing around the mac and cheese. It’s my favorite side and no one makes it as good as my mom, but my stomach is churning more than it did before I bungee-jumped over the Bhote Koshi River. Give me a 524-foot free fall over telling my family about my new business venture any day.
I have to do it now though. I’m due to start renovations on Monday and this is the one weekend Mase has off from training the new recruits.
We used to do Sunday lunch every week but since Mase joined the army and I went off traveling, Mom has trouble getting us all in one place.
Roman is the only one of us to have hung about in Pine Rock after college, running the finances for a local ranch, which gave teenage me far too many cowboy fantasies.
I can’t decide whether I crave these family times I get to spend with him or hate them. He’s sitting across from me, his strong, farm-hardened arms, spooning more mashed potatoes onto his plate. For once though, my complicated relationship with my brother’s best friend is the least of my worries.
I have a coffee shop to renovate. An apartment above it that’s really seen better days. And I’m about to have to deal with my family’s opinions, which I imagine will be about as positive as when I told them I was dropping out of college before I even started and traveling instead.
Mase kicks my socked foot under the table.
I drop my fork, the metal clattering against the plate. “What was that for?”
He gives me that suspicious big brother look I’ve seen enough times to describe it to a police sketch artist, which I may or may not have done once when I was bored after getting arrested for skinny dipping at Lovers Ridge.
“A little more onthe nose. Yeah, like that. And darker brows.” I lean over the sketch pad, Tom, my new police friend is drawing on.
Tom looks from the near perfect picture of my brother to me. “And this is the guy you saw streaking at Lovers Ridge?”
I press my lips together, so I don’t burst out laughing. “Yep, that’s him,” I say just as Mase storms into the precinct, making a beeline for me.
Tom’s eyes widen, looking from the sketch to my brother, and it takes everything in me not to bust a gut. I just smile at Tom, all doe-eyed and innocent. I’m about to get the lecture from hell from Mase but I decide it was worth it.
Mase jabsme under the table again, bringing me back to the present.
“Why do you look so squirrely?” he asks.
I shovel a forkful of walnut stuffing into my cheeks. “Because I’ve got nuts in my mouth?”
