Rosanna joined him on the porch, and he showed her the note. She smiled as she looked over at me, then beaconed me over.
“I think you two being friends is a lovely idea,” she’d said. “And I have a feeling the two of you are going to be the very best of friends.”
That afternoon, Cooper and I played until the sun disappeared from the sky and the moon came out, and I joined him and his family at the little dinner table by the windows, where we ate meat and potato stew, and Rosanna drank wine from a little crystal glass she’d picked up from a thrift store. Cooper had two nephews, twins, and they were little devils, running around in diapers and getting up to no good.
I smile. That hasn’t changed.
Except for the diapers bit.
My smile fades.
And the fact that Cooper is gone.
After his death, I kind of went off the rails. I dumped my boyfriend of eight months, dropped out of school, and floated around the country trying to find something to fill the void. I didn’t stop to process his death because it was too painful to face. Instead, I blocked it out. Afraid if I let it in, the pain might kill me.
So I ran from it.
Still run from it.
Every. Single. Day.
Finally, last year I decided to go back to college because I figured I needed some kind of stability in my life. That’s when I stopped using a new town and a new job to keep me distracted and started with the one-night stands instead. Because anything was better than feeling the loss of my best friend.
Thankfully, my return to school coincided with meeting Riley and Sebastian. Riley came up to me on my first day back and practically insisted we become best friends while Sebastian was in three of my classes and gravitated toward me like I was a tractor beam.
Soon the three of us were a regular thing, eating lunch on the quad and getting drunk at the local bars. Somehow, they brought some sanity back into my life.
Thinking of my friends, I smile. We’re a small pack, but we’re a strong one. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them during the last four months.
Oh, hell. I have to call Riley. I’d fled town before ringing her.
Turning on my now recharged cell, I see she’s left me a thousand messages.
“Dammit, Bronte, you didn’t let anyone know you were leaving,” Riley wails on the end of the line when I ring her.
“I sent you a text.”
“Yeah, exactly… a text. How was I supposed to know if it was genuine or if the creep had somehow gotten your cell and had you tied up somewhere.”
She’s right.
The quick text message I’d sent to both her and Sebastian had been irresponsible. I should’ve called them to explain. Clearly, I hadn’t thought my plan through, which is hardly surprising since I’d skipped town in the middle of the night. In a blind panic, I’d grabbed some clothes, shoved them in a bag, and then hit the road, driving through the night until I reached Flintlock. Then, of course, my phone went flat.
“I’m sorry, it was a last-minute decision. After what happened, I had to get out of there. I didn’t know what else to do.” I bite my lip while feeling bad for making her worry. Riley always looks out for me. “But I’m fine. I promise.”
She sighs. “I suppose you’re forgiven.”
“Thank you.”
“It’ll probably do you some good hanging out with your family for a while. Maybe Seb and I can come for a visit.”
“To Flintlock?” I chuckle. “You’ll die of boredom.”
“I don’t know… some fresh mountain air might do me some good. Are you going to stay long?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. At least a few days. It feels good to be out of town for a while.”
“I don’t blame you, babycakes. What did Whiney Warren say when you told him he’d need to find someone to cover your shifts.”
Oh, shoot.
Whiney Warren is my boss at the bar where I work three nights a week. Geez, I haven’t called him either. At least, one thing in my favor, I’m not due back at work for another two days.
“I’ll let you know,” I say sheepishly.
“You haven’t rung him yet?”
“Before I rang my best friend! Are you kidding? She’d kill me.”
“Nice save.”
“Thank you.”
She pauses. “This has got you really spooked, hasn’t it?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“I guess.” She sighs. “So, tell me, what’s the talent like in Flintlock, Tennessee? Are there gorgeous mountain men lining the streets to help lift you over puddles? Because if they are, just say the word, and I’ll be there… you know… as moral support to my best friend during her crisis.”
Riley has never been to this part of Tennessee and thinks that all men in my rural town are built like The Hulk, look like rugged mountain men, and fuck like Christian Grey.