Oktober’s eyes softened.“No need to apologize.I’ve seen that look before.Wore it myself a few times.He hurt you physically?”He dropped the question lightly but didn’t fool me into thinking it was a casual question.The look on his face told me if I said Eric had hit me, Oktober would absolutely hunt him down.
“No.He didn’t abuse me mentally or physically.”
“Bad break up?”
“The worst kind,” I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty.“Walked in on my boyfriend with my best friend.Two days ago.”
Oktober let out a low whistle.“Double betrayal.That’s rough.”There was no pity in his voice, just simple acknowledgment of fact.I appreciated that more than I could say.
“Yeah, well.Lesson learned.”I brushed sand from my hands, acutely aware of his presence beside me.“Thanks again for the help with the kayak.”
“Anytime.”He hesitated, then added, “The offer still stands, you know.To join us.Nothing funny.Just good food, decent whiskey, and people who won’t ask too many questions unless you want to talk.”
I studied him for a moment.Part of me wanted to say yes and lose myself in the noise and the strangers and whatever distraction they offered.I knew I’d give in, but before I did, I wanted to take a step back and make sure.Give myself one more chance to play it safe before plunging into the darkness.
“I’ll think about it.”
He grinned.“Pop over any time, honey.Tell them you’re looking for me.Everyone’s nice and no one will bite.Unless you want them to.”
I was so fucked…
Chapter Two
Mia
The novel in my lap had become nothing more than a prop.I’d turned to page forty-seven somewhere around two o’clock, and the sun had moved a full hand’s width across the sky since then without me comprehending a single sentence.Laughter erupted from the neighboring cabin, bright and unrestrained, followed by the opening riff of a song I half-recognized.
I shifted in the chair, tucking one leg beneath me.Normally, I devoured novels the way other people devoured junk food.Compulsively, guiltily, and with complete abandon.Books had saved me as a kid when my mother’s temper flared and the walls of our tiny apartment closed in.Books had carried me through college after she died, through the grinding loneliness of doctoral work, through Eric’s increasingly obvious disinterest in anything I found meaningful.But today, this book held all the appeal of a tax form.
The lake stretched before me, its surface hammered gold by the late afternoon sun.A pair of ducks traced lazy figure-eights near the opposite shore.The air smelled of warm pine needles and the mineral tang of water baking on stone.Peaceful.Gorgeous.The kind of setting that should have smoothed every rough edge in my brain.
Instead, I kept hearing Oktober’s voice.I see an invitation in your gaze, sweet Mia.He’d seen what I felt and named it out loud, and rather than making me feel exposed, his honesty had felt like relief.Like hearing someone speak a language I’d forgotten I understood.I closed the book and set it on the arm of the chair and surrendered to the distraction.
From the neighboring cabin, someone turned up the music.The bass thumped through the tree line, accompanied by the clink of bottles and a burst of feminine laughter that sounded so free it made my chest ache.I caught myself absently tracing the small tattoo on my inner wrist.A single word in my mother’s handwriting, lifted from the one birthday card she’d ever given me.Read.
My mother couldn’t read, but she’d demanded I learn.Insisted on it with the same fierce, uncompromising force she’d applied to everything in her short life.The irony of her handwriting permanently etched into my skin never escaped me.She’d copied that word from a children’s book, letter by letter.She said the shapes that held no meaning for her were the key to my future.
I pulled my gaze from the tattoo and stared at the tree line again.I’d made a promise to myself, sitting in this very chair two nights ago.No more leaving things on the table.No more not appreciating what each day had in store for me… And yet here I sat, alone on my porch, turning down invitations from people who seemed genuinely kind because… why?Because the last people I’d trusted had shattered me?Because I didn’t trust my own judgment anymore?Another woman’s laugh rang out from the neighboring cabin, and I found myself leaning toward the sound like a plant desperate for sunlight.
That’s when I noticed two figures emerging from the tree-shadowed path that connected our stretch of shoreline cabins.They moved at an unhurried pace, the taller one slightly ahead, her stride fluid and purposeful.Chestnut brown hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, and she carried a covered dish in both hands.Behind her walked a smaller woman with hair the color of autumn leaves, a deep red-orange that caught the last of the afternoon light and turned it to copper.She held a bottle of something in one hand, her other arm wrapped across her own midsection, her posture closed and watchful.
I straightened in my chair.The taller woman spotted me first and lifted her chin in greeting, her expression open and easy.The redhead’s gaze found mine a few seconds later and she gave me a smile as open and friendly as her counterpart’s.
“Hey there.”The taller woman reached the foot of my porch steps and stopped, giving me the choice of distance.Smart.“I’m Ada.We’re staying next door.”
“Mia,” I said, and my voice came out steadier than I expected.“Are you friends of Oktober’s?”
“We are.Oktober mentioned you were here by yourself,” Ada said, lifting the covered dish slightly.“And I made way too many burgers and dogs.It’s a curse.I can’t cook for fewer than twelve people.My brain just won’t do the math, and I wasn’t wasting the extra meat.”
The aroma hit me then, rich and savory, threading through the pine-scented air.Beef.Onions.Something herby and deep that made my stomach clench with sudden, desperate hunger.I’d eaten a granola bar for breakfast and half a sandwich for lunch.And, oh, my God, my mouth watered.
“That smells incredible,” I said, and meant it.
“It tastes even better.”Ada climbed the steps without waiting for a formal invitation.She set the dish on the small table between the porch chairs.“There’s enough for tonight and tomorrow if you pace yourself.Which I never do, but I’m told it’s possible.”
The redhead had followed Ada up the steps.The bottle turned out to be a nice-looking red wine, which she placed on the table next to the plate of burgers and hotdogs without comment.
“This is Violet,” Ada said, gesturing.
