I pushedmy glasses up the bridge of my nose, tilting my head this way and that as I studied the sketch in front of me. My charcoal pencil moved across the paper, tracing the outlines of familiar peaks and valleys.
I’d started this sketch without a clear picture in mind. But here I was, drawing Silver Ridge. My hometown for some of the best and worst moments of my entire life. Inescapable.
Wasn’t enough that I was back living here now. This place had taken root in my psyche once again, as if I’d never left.
Because this had always been home.
I let inspiration guide me. Added buildings along the base of the mountains. More details made the structures recognizable as the quaint architecture of Main Street. Silver Linings Coffee materialized prominently in the foreground, more detailed than the rest. Because of course it did.
At least I hadn’t just drawn a dozen portraits ofher. Piper smiling and holding out a cup of coffee. Piper with a sarcastic smirk, hair in a bun with wisps framing her face. Piper with her arms crossed and a bossy,I-mean-businessfrown on her full lips.
This is sad, O’Neal. How much more evidence do you need that you’ve got it bad?
Sitting back, I stretched my arms up until my spine cracked. I’d gotten lost in my work for a while, and that had felt good, even if being hunched over wasn’t so great for my back these days.
I was in the front room of the house, sitting at my thrift-store table that would eventually serve as my studio’s front desk. The laminate flooring was in place now, and it looked damn great if I said so myself. The walls were freshly painted.
I’d even hired a guy to paint the exterior siding on the cheap, and he was scheduled for next week, weather permitting.
As for these sketches, I’d been trying to brainstorm ideas for the big blank wall behind me. It would be the first thing clients saw as they came in. A crucial first impression. Not just a chance to show off my art style, but to make clients feel welcome and let them know they were in good creative hands.
And the best I could come up with was the landscape outside my door? The same view everybody around here saw every single day?
If I was going to be a cliche, I might as well just come up with a clever variation on the Colorado flag for the mural. People around here ate that kinda thing up. I could work the name of my studio into the design too.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a name for my studio yet either. Another annoying detail.
Incarcerated Ink?Convicted Custom Tattoos?
Sorry, my dark humor was out this morning, it seemed.
A knock at the front door pulled me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head, heart thrumming hopefully.
Despite daily trips to Silver Linings since Ollie’s skateboarding fall, I still hadn’t seen much of Piper. But if that was her at my door, my day was about to get a lot brighter.
To my epic disappointment, I did not find Piper on my doorstep.
My expression tightened as I glanced over the three men standing outside. None of them were smiling.
“You Grayden O’Neal?” the one in front asked. He was dark-haired, a bit shorter than me, wearing a black leather jacket. The other two flanked him, like he was their leader.
I lifted my chin, keeping one hand on the door. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“You’re Ashford’s older brother, right?” the leader said.
The guy on his left was stocky, a spark plug in his Harley Davidson sweatshirt. And the one on the right was straight-up massive, with a mountain-man beard and a brown leather vest over a short-sleeved tee despite the cold.
Fuck. I hadn’t experienced any kind of issues with the neighbors so far, but I still got dirty looks everywhere I went in Silver Ridge. Were these guys about to give me theYou’re not welcome heretalk?
“Look.” I leaned against the doorframe, going for casual. “If you’re here to run me out of town, you should know other people have already tried and failed. I’m not going anywhere.”
The middle guy in the leather jacket blinked.
Then he laughed, a genuine bark of amusement that completely changed his face. The tension in my shoulders eased a fraction.
“That’s definitely not why we’re here,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m Milo. You and I went to high school together, but I guess that’s true of most people around here.”
He offered his hand, and I took it.
