“It’s not just about proving a point.” I pull in a breath and smile at the familiar whiff of salt and sunscreen. “I’m about to be on tour with Sandro René for over a year. Constant traveling, killer rehearsal schedule, no time to slow down and do things on my time, to really see and experience the present moment. The drive was… I don’t know… medicine. My last chance at slow and quiet and easy before life takes on chaos energy. And I’ve missed my people. Like ache-in-my-chest missed them.”
Silence on the other end. I can practically hear Trish’s eyes rolling.
“The drive is almost as long as the visit,” she finally mutters. “Seems like a waste of time and money to me, especially since you said you were never very close with this Martha person in the first place, and your parents drive you crazy on a good day.”
“Hey, Trish?” I say, sweetly. “Said with love, but you’re starting to sound a lot like my dad right now, and he’s?—”
“A grumpy old man who cares more about money than seeing his daughter live out her dreams.” She exhales sharply. “I really do channel that asshole sometimes, don’t I?”
“You and I both know there’s more to life than money. Or we wouldn’t do what we do.”
“I don’t know…” Trish sighs and it’s laced with thinly veiled jealousy. “That gig you landed paysstupidgood money.”
“Once it starts paying.” I pause in my stroll to read a flyer taped to a lamp post listing all the upcoming events in town. Too bad I won't be here long enough to see any of them. I used to love the Town Square festivities. “It kind of freaks me out that I spent so much money on this trip,andquit both my part time jobs, when those big, fat, manna from heaven paychecks won’t start raining down for another few weeks.”
“You’ll be fine. The money’s coming. And I’m sorry for being so judgmental. I think you’re the only thing keeping me from fully morphing into a cranky old man. Thanks, Lu.”
I smile, pressing my phone tighter to my ear. “Anytime.”
“Alright. Enjoy the week. For real. Old man vibes be damned.”
I end the call and step into Holiday Coffee & Cake. The smell hits me first—fresh-ground beans and warm vanilla icing. A couple of retirees are laughing at a corner table, their plates streaked with frosting. The chalkboard menu above the counter boastsToday’s Special: Bunny Trail Latte + Strawberry Rhubarb Croissant, the words doodled in someone’s careful print. Violet and Simon greet me like a long-lost daughter, which, after all thetime I spent here with Stella and Gabby in high school, I suppose I almost am.
A few minutes later, coffee in hand, I step back into the heat, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders. I text Stella—Ten minutes out! Can’t wait to hug your face!—then cross the street toward the parking lot. A breeze lifts off the Gulf, rustling palm fronds and tugging at the hem of my dress. I pass a street sign with Stillwater Bay’s little heron and palm tree decal. Seeing it tugs something deep in my chest. Not sadness. Just a kind of tender ache. A homesick sort of happiness. I should visit more… if it wasn’t so hard to be around Dad.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a car coming into view.
The crosswalk signal blinks:WALK.
The car slows.
I step forward.
The car speeds up.
Wait—
A blur of movement—the driver’s eyes lifting from her phone, too late.
I lurch back. My ankle twists hard on the curb. Coffee arcs through the air. My hip slams the pavement. Pain detonates in my leg. Then my head cracks against the streetlight and?—
CHAPTER THREE
Nash
One case of the sniffles—no insurance and nowhere else to turn but the emergency room.
A man convinced he had pancreatitis—turned out to be gas.
A mysterious back injury that screamed opioid fishing.
And a stern talking-to from the stuffed shirts in Admin.
“When you don’t follow protocol, it’s a liability, Doctor Kincaid.”
“Watching a kid suffocate in favor of paperwork would be a bigger liability, don’t you agree?”
They actually had tothink about itbefore giving me a non-answer.
