She brightened at once.
‘Would you be a doll and grab me a cup? I just need to use your bathroom and I’ll text Jackson, let him know the new plan.’
‘Great, perfect.’
I was violently relieved and already halfway out the door, but before I made it to the top of the stairs, I saw Ashley in her robe and slippers on her way up carrying two travel mugs and a bulging paper bag.
‘What’s this?’ I asked when she held out the bounty.
‘For you and Wyn. Coffee and croissants for the car ride. I could hear her from all the way downstairs.’
‘You didn’t hear it all – we’re not leaving until later.’
She rolled her eyes and pushed me back into my room.
Lydia was not in the bathroom.
Lydia was stuffing all my clothes into my backpack.
‘Hate to say it, but she’s right,’ Ashley said, leaning against the wall. ‘Hilton Head isn’t far away and I reckon it’ll do you some good to get away. Clear your head.’
‘Wait, did I hear what I thought I heard?’ Lydia stopped what she was doing and looked up, spinning around and searching the ceiling. ‘Did the flying pigs come in early this season? Did Ashley Bell just admit I’m right?’
‘But I’m not leaving right now,’ I insisted to both of them. ‘I can’t.’
‘About that,’ Lydia said brightly, back at her task and wrist deep in a pile of my T-shirts. ‘I texted Wyn and he was already awake and totally down, so get dressed, baby, we need to hit the road. Now, do you not own a single bathing suit or am I going crazy?’
‘I’ll see you next week.’ Ashley pressed the travel cups into my hands. ‘If the Weres declare war, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied before taking a very long, very deep drink of coffee. ‘Appreciate it.’
The drive from Bell House to Hilton Head was only an hour, including one stop to pick up Wyn, another to get Starbucks for Jackson and a fifteen-minute backtrack when Lydia realized she’d left her phone in my bedroom. Nestled next to Wyn in the backseat, I let the twins fill the silence for most of the ride, alternating my attention from the pretty scenery outside the car and the beautiful man sitting beside me inside the car. Wyn hadn’t said much either, still yawning when we collected him from the carriage house apartment where he stayed in Savannah, but from the moment he fastened his seatbelt, he hadn’t let go of my hand once.
‘Almost there,’ Lydia announced, her bare feet up on the car dash, phone held up to the open window. ‘First we need to go to the store then we’ll get brunch at Lowcountry Backyard then I want to get ice cream at The Ice Cream Cone then—’
‘Lyds, it ain’t even eight a.m.,’ Jackson said. ‘I for one would like to get to the house and relax before you start dragging me all over town. Some of us have been listening to you since five.’
‘Happy to drive if you need a break,’ Wyn offered helpfully, leaning forward to rest an elbow on the back of his seat. Jackson responded by flooring the gas so hard, Wyn was pushed backwards and my stomach flipped like we were on a rollercoaster.
‘Thanks, but nobody drives this car but me.’
‘Bullshit,’ Lydia scoffed, slapping her brother’s arm until he eased off the gas. ‘I drive it all the time. So does your buddy, Franklin, half the basketball team, that girl you loaned it to that time who brought it back with a flat tyre …’
‘And that’s why no one drives it but me anymore.’
He put his foot down again and swerved into the exit lane, pulling off the highway and effectively ending the conversation. The rearview mirror reflected a stormy set to his brow, narrowedeyes staring dead ahead, and I felt my insides drop again, nothing to do with the speed of the car.
‘Here we are, home sweet home.’
After a slightly tense conversation with a man at the gatehouse of the private community, Jackson finally brought the car to a stop in front of one of the biggest, fanciest houses I had ever seen in my life. It was bigger than many of the hotels I’d stayed in. The house was a pale sage green with white trim and three storeys high with porches that wrapped all the way around on all three floors. Manicured lawns rolled out on all sides and a variety of intentionally planted trees, palmettos, oaks, ash, attempted and failed to hide the mansion from public view.
‘This is your friend’s idea of a holiday home?’ Wyn let go of my hand, his eyes opening wide. ‘Where do they spend the rest of the year, Buckingham Palace?’
‘I don’t know why they don’t sell it,’ Lydia replied, leaning forward to scrabble under the seat for her flipflops. ‘Old Stovell is so afraid of missing a moment of Savannah gossip, I bet she hasn’t been out here in a decade.’
‘Ms Stovell?’ I grabbed onto the back of her seat as Wyn and Jackson both climbed out the car. ‘Ileen Stovell?’
She snorted. ‘Classic. You don’t know the names of your neighbours but you know Ileen Stovell. Don’t tell me she’s already come calling?’
