How Not to Make an Entrance
Tessa
As I pedaled, the steady hum of the narrow tires pulled me back to the night I'd first shown up on Maisie Pickett's front porch, praying I'd gotten the right place.
In my mind, I could still see the look in her eyes when she'd opened the front door, expecting maybe a friend, a family member, or literally anyone else.
What she'd gotten instead was me.Not a friend. Not family. And not exactly welcome, judging from her expression – a little shocked, a little guarded, and a whole lot of thinly veiled alarm.
Two years had passed since I'd last seen her, but she had looked the same as I recalled, with long brown hair, a petite frame, and hazel eyes, squinting into the fading light.
Her brow had wrinkled as she'd said, "Tessa?"
Well, at least she hadn't called me that godawful nickname.
Golden Girl.
This was the name my younger sister – who happened to be Maisie's best friend – had given me ages ago. And trust me when I say, this wasn't meant as a compliment.
But Delaney was still my sister, and I'd been determined to find her, even if she hadn't wanted to be found.
On Maisie's porch, the temperature was barely above freezing, with a bitter wind that cut through my sorry excuse for a coat – a saucy red mistake, about as warm as a paper napkin.
Of course, I'd packed for Miami, not Mackinac Island, which was significantly colder – not that I was complaining. If I hadn't pre-packed for that business trip, I might've had no coat at all.
Nowthatwould've been fun – hiking two miles coatless from the smallest airport I had ever seen.
In high heels.
Dragging two suitcases.
One suitcase had been big enough to stuff a body while the other was a standard carry-on. Both had wheels, thank heaven, or I might've given up halfway and slept in a ditch.
Wheeled or not, my shoulders ached from rolling two bags along the deserted streets.
But of course they'd been deserted.This had been mid-April, and the island didn't truly open until May.
I hadn't known this when fleeing Chicago. But I'd learned it fast enough when I couldn't catch a ferry from Mackinaw City, because they weren't yet running.
Instead, I'd had to catch a rideshare over the Mackinac Bridge to St. Ignace where I'd purchased a plane ride that had taken barely ten minutes and most of my cash.
So now, there I was, shaking from the cold, dead on my feet, and still waiting for Maisie to invite me in.
She hadn't, probably because of Delaney, who wasn't my biggest fan.
Still, I'd summoned up a smile. "Uh, yeah. It's me."
Maisie's gaze drifted from my wind-blown hair to the ginormous suitcase at my side and finally to the other one propped against my leg. With a little shake of her head, she asked, "What are you doing here?"
There were countless ways I could've replied.
I'm looking for Delaney.
I'm hiding from the spotlight.
I'm running from all kinds of trouble.
Instead, I'd tried for a joke. "I was in the area."
