I make two mugs of tea in silence, preparing hers like I like mine, and then join Meadow at the table.
“So what happened in New York?” I wrap my hands around the ceramic mug that says Killer Beans.
“That asshole Jones got really handsy. Like literally, he’d walk by and touch me every single time. He’s kind of hot, but it was gross.”
“Asshole. And he’s like twice your age.” Fucking Jones. He was the source of so many problems.
“Plus gross and sketchy.”
“For sure.” I kind of wish I had asked Wes and Noah to take care of Jones. I’m sure they would’ve, but I didn’t want things to look even more suspicious given Shane was gone.
Plus, I don’t want to distribute any more death sentences.
“I thought I’d found my place at the fight club. I’d wanted to be a part of it for so long. It felt like home for a minute.”
I make a sympathetic sound even though I don’t understand that at all.
“Did you know Shane quit?” Meadow asks. “He didn’t even say goodbye. Not that I needed him to, I’m just surprised he sort of disappeared.”
Nope, Shane didn’t quit. That dick is literally dead and buried.
“I don’t talk to him anymore. The divorce is final.” I go with that instead of acknowledging his murder.
“That makes sense,” Meadow says. “And congratulations?”
“Thank you.” I examine her face. “Did… did something else happen in New York?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide.
I’m betting something else happened in New York, but I’m not close enough to Meadow to push her on it yet. If she wants to keep it a secret, that’s her business.
“Can I stay with you for a while?”
I let out a surprised squeak. “What?”
“I’m sorry, forget it, never mind, that’s too much to ask, I get it—” She shakes her head aggressively.
“Hey!” I wave my hand at Meadow to try to get her to stop. “I didn’t say no. Of course, you can stay with us.”
I probably should ask Wes, as I’ve been living with him for only a month and it’s technically his cabin, but he won’t deny me anything.
“Really?” Meadow looks at me with her big blue eyes. This poor thing. She’s barely thirty and both of her parents are gone—which I can relate to—and it doesn’t sound like she has anyone else to depend on. I get it.
“Yes.” I nod firmly. “Absolutely.”
“Okay. My stuff is at the bed-and-breakfast down the road.”
“Yeah? When did you get here?”
She bites her lip. “Two days ago. I was too nervous to call you.”
“Meadow, you can always call me.” I reach over and pat her hand. Two days ago? And she’s only just come to me? Girl is definitely hiding something. “Why don’t you grab your stuff, and I can take you home with me after I’m done closing.”
“Can you give me the address, and I’ll come later? I have a few things to do first.”
I give her the details and watch her leave, my curiosity piqued.
A half hour later, I walk out into the spring afternoon. It’s April in Maine, so I’m still wearing my puffy coat, but I left behind my beanie and gloves, and my jacket is unzipped. It’s almost no jacket weather. My phone buzzes as soon as I step out, so I pause to read the response from Wes about Meadow staying with us.
