She bit her lip, once, twice, before speaking. “He did. And that’s half the reason I want to be there, too. He sacrificed a lot to protect me and then, later, to find the guy who did it.”
Which brought him right back to the question he’d asked her inside the booth at the Owl’s Roost. What kind of interaction had she had with the guy online? Why hadn’t she been able to identify him if he’d been stalking her even before the incident in the quarry when he’d assaulted her?
But he kept it on lockdown for now since those were the last words out of his mouth before she’d broken out into a cold sweat. Clearly there were a lot of rough memories associated with that time. While her brother said she hadn’t been sexually molested she had been assaulted.
“Then if you ever want to share a ride, let me know because I’ll be making the trip in every day.” He pointed to his motorcycle. “Although that’s my only means of transportation, so if you don’t like bikes?—”
“Really?” She sounded intrigued. “I’ve never ridden on one.”
“They’re great for clearing your head.” Maybe that was a little self-serving of him when she’d admitted she was tense and had trouble sleeping. “I have an extra helmet. It’s not glittery pink or anything, but it’s safe.”
She folded her arms, and a smile turned one corner of her lips.
“In that case, I’m staying in Unit 3 at the motel.” She pointed toward the shabby little set of cottages where he planned to book a room, too.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.”
Just like that, the moment sent him catapulting back to the past when she’d said she would meet him under thebleachers for a math lesson that he’d hoped would be more than just math.
Except she’d never shown. And for reasons far more complicated and painful than his teenage mind could have imagined. Hell, teens assumed rejection was personal.
And his assumption had cost her comfort when she’d needed him most. Damned if he would let her down again.
Chapter Three
Girls’ Salon Nightat The Strand!
Walking down Heartache’s main thoroughfare with her hood up to protect her from the wind, Gabriella double-checked the text from her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Heather Finley. Normally, Gabriella wasn’t the girly-girl type who spent time at spas or invested her small earnings on expensive salon highlights. But the invitation had been sent to all the local women who would either be testifying against Jeremy Covington or who had given statements to support the district attorney’s case against him.
The intent of the Salon Night was plain. An evening of rah-rah sisterhood to boost each other up before they had to sit across a courtroom from the man who’d hurt them. As much as she wasn’t the spa type, Gabriella knew she couldn’t refuse. Because even though a manicure and pedicure wouldn’t make her feel any better about facing Covington tomorrow, her presence might help someone else rest easier tonight. If it made Heather feel better—or any of the other girls that sick ass had hurt—then Gabriella wantedto be there. She carried a bottle of red wine under her arm as she passed Last Chance Vintage and found The Strand. Warm light from inside the salon poured out through the windows onto Main Street since it was the only business open at this hour except for the Hasting family’s pizza parlor farther down on the corner.
Hesitating outside the door, Gabriella could hear the eighties pop music playing inside, two of the women dancing around a dryer chair as they sang into hair brushes. The image tugged a reluctant smile from her. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a hardship to have her nails painted. She couldn’t deny a small thrill at the idea of looking her best tomorrow when she hopped on the back of Clayton’s motorcycle. And yes, that made her feel like a giddy teenager again.
She hauled open the door before she could change her mind, the electric guitar music spilling out along with laughter and the scent of hair chemicals and nail polish remover.
“Gabby!” The slender woman standing closest to the door greeted her with a warm smile.
“Amy.” Gabriella opened her arms to the youngest of the Finley family, a woman who’d been absent from Heartache for as long as Gabriella herself.
Amy had been dating Sam Reyes, Zach’s best friend, the summer that Gabriella had been assaulted. Sam felt forced to leave town—and Amy—without explanation, and Gabriella had always felt guilty about that, especially during the years when she’d convinced herselfshehad a crush on Sam.
Sam had been safe to crush on at a time when she’d been so mixed-up about men and sex. Gabriella had known she was safe with him and he’d never returned heraffections. But Amy and Sam were back together now, and Amy didn’t seem to hold it against her that she’d dragged her boyfriend to the West Coast with her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Amy whispered fervently in her ear as she returned the hug. “Everyone else is talking about sulfate-free hair conditioners and nail art, and it’s like Greek to me. Nail art?” Leaning back, Amy shrugged her narrow shoulders, her all-black jeans and sweater broken up by a light green scarf that set off her auburn hair and green eyes. “It took me two whole minutes to realize they weren’t talking about something you make with an air nail compressor.”
Gabriella laughed, welcoming the levity. The Finley family owned a building supply store in town, and Amy was embroiled in a renovation project that involved turning a hunting cabin into a beautiful, two-story home. The woman had studied to be an accountant, but her do-it-yourself knowledge was off the charts. She could hang her own Sheetrock and install a toilet, for crying out loud.
“My makeup routine revolves around petroleum jelly for my lips and pinching my cheeks to put color in them.” Setting down the bottle of wine she’d brought on the reception desk, Gabriella watched as the hairbrush-singing duo ended their tune and sank into chairs across from one another, a blue light aimed at their toes. The pair was clearly younger—high school or college age. “Who are the teenagers?”
“Megan Bryer and Bailey McCord.” Amy lowered her voice, pointing first to the brunette dressed in a flannel shirt and skin-tight jeggings, then at her blonde friend with a purple butterfly T-shirt. “I only know that because Heather was held against her will the same time as Megan. And Bailey’s mom had the affair with Covingtonand then—when he cheated on her, too—convinced Covington’s wife to turn over the family computers that are going to be the man’s total undoing.” Shaking her head, Amy gave a wry grin. “But I don’t normally keep up with the soap operas, so that’s the extent of my information.”
“I’m impressed.” Gabriella knew of both girls in a peripheral way, having kept up with the case as Sam tracked the man who assaulted her. But she hadn’t spent much time in Heartache, so the faces weren’t familiar. “You may not know your sulfates, but I’m coming to you for all my gossip. Can you tell me anything about the town break-ins I’ve been hearing about?” She was only half kidding. It unsettled her to think of more crime in her small hometown. Especially while she was staying here.
But before Amy could answer, someone turned down the music.
“Ladies!” A tall beauty with caramel-colored hair hurried over, carrying a basket of bakery treats. “No lurking in corners! I’m having a mixer over at the nail polish bar and I’m luring you there with cupcakes.” She waved the basket under their noses, showing off gorgeous confections with frosting in every imaginable shade. “Gabriella, I’m Nina Spencer, Mack Finley’s significant other.”
Again, Gabriella knew that and remembered her vaguely from high school, but she appreciated the reminder of where she fit into the Finley family. The town’s former Mayor Finley had two sons—Mack and Scott—and three daughters, Erin, Heather and Amy, making a big crew to keep track of. Plus, they all had spouses or significant others, and Scott and his wife, Bethany, had a daughter who would be in college by now.
