“No,” I shout, interrupting him. “You can’t bring anyone out. I-I don’t want anyone knowing.”
He sighs. I imagine he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why not?”
“I-I don’t want it to spread around town and start a media circus.”
“Are you alone?”
“I think so,” I whisper, glancing around the property for the hundredth time. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Elias standing on my front porch, sporting a hockey mask and a machete.Jesus, Wren, this isn’tFriday the 13th, and Elias didn’t turn into Jason.
“Okay.” He cuts through my manic state. “I need you to breathe for me. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
I try…and fail to calm my breathing.
“Try again,” he prompts.
And I do. Only this time, my breathing slows slightly, but enough to satisfy Davis.
“Are you able to drive to the station?”
“I can’t go inside. I don’t want anyone to see me talking to the police.”
Another sigh and an imagined nose pinching. “I don’t want you going into the house either.”
My heart stutters. “What do I do?”
“Meet me at Shoreline Sips. Can you do that, Wren?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Stay with me until you get on the road. I want to make sure you’re in the clear before you hang up.”
I twist the key as the engine roars to life, flinching like it’s a gunshot as I grip the wheel. My palms are slick with sweat as I click the lock button again, even though the doors are locked.
Throwing the truck into drive, I whip a circle before flying down the gravel path. My eyes flick constantly to the mirrors as the fear remains.
“I’m on the road.”
“Okay,” he replies. “Take it easy and drive safely. I’ve got you, Wren.”
“Thanks, Davis.”
“Anytime. See you soon.”
He ends the call, and I place my phone in the cup holder. The flat country roads blur past as I speed toward town, hands white-knuckled on the wheel. I spend more time watching my rear-view mirror than watching the road in front of me. Good thing I know these roads by heart, even after all the years away. I remember every dip and every curve.
When the coffee shop finally comes into view, relief hits sharply, but it’s fleeting. Turning into the gravel lot behind Shoreline Sips, I’m grateful for the awkward time and the barely filled parking lot. I park at an angle, barely remembering to shut off the engine before I bolt inside.
The bell over the door jingles too cheerfully for the dark mood surrounding me.
The few people in the shop turn my way as I fumble through the door. Scanning the room frantically, I spot Davis seated in the far corner, back against a wall, his sharp eyes assessing the room. His broad shoulders hunch forward, his hands clasped around a to-go cup. Seeing him grounds me, causing a deep exhale to slip free. My shoulders relax as I cross the room. It’s not lost on me how eyes track my movement, whispers starting. Life in a small town. Everyone notices everything.
Before I can speak, a cup slides onto the table.
“Matcha,” Julia says softly, squeezing my shoulder. “On me.”
I meet her eyes and she knows.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
