“I read the paper and heard people talk about it. It must have been pretty terrible.”
“That day was terrible, but losing Kelsey as a friend...I trusted her, and look how that turned out.”
They were quiet for several minutes, each sipping their coffee. Finally, Brooke said, “If I can’t even pick my friends properly, how am I ever going to pick out a boyfriend? A husband? I’m totally afraid I’m going to mess that up and then be alone for the rest of my life.”
Tyler understood that fear intimately. “I get it. It’s hard to date. Much easier to stay single, isn’t it?”
“That and Basin County isn’t exactly overflowing with options.” She gave him a small smile, then quickly glanced at her mug. “Until recently.”
Tyler’s own smile grew. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He was going to ask, but she changed the subject.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember Phil bringing you over to the house.”
“I don’t think I was very memorable then.” He laughed. “Tall and skinny. Awkward.”
“Nothing wrong with being tall.”
Her smile came again, and with it, warmth spread through his chest. He could like Brooke. He could like her a lot. He already did.
They talked about Phil for a while, about his steadfast loyalty and blunt honesty. “That’s not always easy,” she said with a laugh. “Having a brother who rarely sugar-coats things is challenging.”
Then the conversation shifted to the case against Tyler, to Sheila and what she’d been like in high school.
“Phil said she was a mean girl,” Brooke said. “That she never really outgrew it.”
“Yeah. I was thinking about that last night. He’s right. They’d pick a target and make that person’s life miserable for weeks or months.” Tyler took a sip of coffee. “I’d sort of forgotten how bad it was until Phil mentioned it. No one was safe from Sheila and her gang.”
Brooke nodded. “I was looking at one of those websites last night that people set up for their class reunions. Some of her friends from high school still live in Irma. I know them. They come into the coffee shop.”
“Yeah. I’ve seen a few people from high school in passing. There’s a girl who works at the craft store across from the auto shop.”
“Monique. Her aunt owns the place. I saw pictures of her and Sheila.”
“Monique.” He nodded. “Pretty sure that’s her. Sheila had mentioned some of us getting together for drinks and live music.”
“I don’t go to bars much,” Brooke said. “So, I miss out on some of the juicier gossip. But Phil sure seemed to know things about Sheila and how she wasn’t always as sweet as she seemed at work.”
“Nobody’s perfect. But that doesn’t mean she deserved to die.”
“No,” Brooke agreed softly. “She didn’t.”
The conversation deepened from there. Tyler found himself opening up about things he hadn’t talked about in years. The grief over losing Jen and Garrett. The guilt that still plagued him, wondering if he could have prevented the fire somehow. He still didn’t understand what had caused the gas line to fail. To cause the entire system to ignite and the house to explode.
And he shared with her the loneliness of the past twelve years, moving from place to place without ever feeling like he belonged. About how he would imagine what Garrett would be like now. Nearly sixteen. He liked to think they’d be working on a car together. Something they bought and could fix up for him.
“I kept thinking maybe the next town would be different,” he said. “Maybe I’d finally feel at home somewhere. Maybe I’d finally stop dwelling on what my life should be like. But nowhere felt right. Nowhere felt like Basin County.”
“So, you came back.”
“So, I came back. And walked straight into another nightmare.”
Brooke reached across the table, her hand covering his. The touch was meant to be comforting, a simple humanconnection. But the moment her skin met his, heat spread up his arm.
Tyler looked up and found her eyes already on him. The awareness that had been building between them since they’d met intensified, becoming almost tangible in the quiet kitchen.
“I believe you’re innocent,” Brooke said quietly. “I don’t think you killed Sheila. And I don’t think you killed your family.”
“Thank you.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “That means more than you know.”
