“You told Cole no?” Miranda sounded like I’d just told her the Ghost of Christmas Past had visited me Saturday night. “Are you completely out of your damn mind?”
There was a good chance that I was, because nearly two days later there was a part of me that wondered if I’d dreamt up Cole’s sudden appearance.
Except the business card I obsessively stared at whenever I was in my apartment proved that he had been here.
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh, picking up a pillow. “I was just so caught off guard by his appearance.”
Miranda watched me fluff the pillow. It was Monday and she’d come straight from school as soon as she could. We were supposed to have dinner tonight with Jason, meeting at one of the restaurants down the street. “I can understand that, especially after we were just talking about him, and poof! He’s right in front of your face.”
That was kind of like how it felt.
“But this is Cole,” she continued as I grabbed the dirtied linen off the floor and balled it up. “You were all about Cole, Sasha.”
“That was ten years ago,” I pointed out as she followed me into the hallway. Stopping, I closed the door behind us. “That was a very long time ago.”
“So? Give me one good reason why you can’t go out to dinner with him,” she challenged in what I’d deemed was her teacher voice, which was an impressive combo with her demure black sweater and fitted slacks.
Easy. “I didn’t come home to get into a relationship.”
She rolled dark eyes. “And Cole asking you out to dinner to catch up signifies a relationship to you?”
I shot her a look as I headed down the hall. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.” We walked into the laundry room. “But you know what? You’re right. You didn’t come home to find a guy, even if that guy is extremely hot and told you he thought you were beautiful,” she said as I shoved the linens into the washer and grabbed the detergent. “You came home to start living your life.”
My hand jerked as I poured the detergent into the washer. You came home to start living your life. She was right, so damn right. I hated it when she was right.
Closing the washer door, I faced her. “I’m going out to dinner with you and Jason tonight—”
“And that’s awesome. I know seeing him is going to be hard for you,” Miranda cut in. “But you’ve got to step up your game. You can’t come home and live in the shadow of the past.”
“Besides the fact I just got home, like a few days ago, I’m trying.”
Miranda planted her hands on her hips. “I know, but I think trying harder would mean you’d take Cole up on his offer—and why are you doing this right now? Watching you wash laundry makes me feel like I should be helping or something.”
I smiled as I turned on the washer. “I’m done now.”
“Thank God,” she muttered. “My stomach is about to eat itself and I was actually about to fold some of those towels over there.”
Laughing, I led her out of the laundry room. We headed down the narrow staircase and by the time we hit the kitchen, tiny balls of nerves had formed in my stomach. “What time are we supposed to meet Jason?”
“In about twenty minutes.” Miranda placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You’re going to have a good time.”
I straightened the hem of the sweater I’d changed into before Miranda showed up. “Do I look like I think I’m not going to have a good time?”
“You look a little pale.” She smiled faintly. “Like you may need to sit down.”
“Geez,” I murmured as we walked out to the front of the inn. Darkness loomed beyond the glass panels in the front door. The sun had already gone down.
“Your hair looks amazing though. It’s so pretty when it’s down.” Miranda winked when I looked at her. “It’s okay to be nervous. You haven’t seen Jason in a decade.”
“It’s not just seeing him. I mean, I am a little nervous.” I walked over to the chair near the desk and plopped down. “I haven’t been to a restaurant in this town in a very long time. I haven’t even gone out in public.”
“I told her earlier that no one would even pay attention to her,” Mom announced. “That she had nothing to worry about.”
I looked up to see Mom coming down the main staircase, her hand trailing along the railing. “I know I have nothing to worry about and I’m being irrational, but let me have my irrationality.”
Miranda arched a brow in Mom’s direction. “How about that makes no sense?”
“Whatever,” I muttered, checking the phone. No messages. “I might drink an entire bottle of wine with dinner.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. I’m driving.” Miranda grinned. “Plus the place is like a mile, if that, down the street, so we both can drink and stumble our way back here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said as I reached into the drawer and pulled out my purse. I checked my phone, making sure it had good battery life. “Also good if I want to leave and you can—”
“First off, you’re not going to want to leave until you’ve finished the thick, juicy rib eye that they serve and ordered their chocolate lava cake,” Miranda stated, and my stomach grumbled in anticipation. “Secondly, if you want to get out of there early, I’m going to leave with you.”
“She’s not going to want to leave.” Mom leaned against the desk. “She’s going to go, eat that steak, the dessert, drink the wine, and enjoy herself.”
Taking a deep breath, I smiled as my mom stared at me as if she could will her faith into the very core of my being. The nervousness I was feeling was understandable, but it was the razor-sharp edge of the unease that tasted a little like panic. That feeling had been building all day, and it was ridiculous. It was irrational, and I totally knew that. Which was why I was going out tonight like a normal, well-adapted twenty-nine-year-old.
“I want you to do me a favor,” Mom asked of Miranda as I stood, sliding the strap of my bag up my forearm. “Convince her to call—”
“Mom,” I snapped.
“—Cole,” she finished, ignoring me. “Because I can’t believe my daughter has that man’s phone number and isn’t making that phone call.”
Oh my God.
Miranda’s eyes glimmered. “So, he was really hot then?”
“Oh yes. I’m half tempted to get that card and call him myself,” Mom said. “You should’ve seen how he aged, Miranda. That boy is now a man.”
Oh my God.
Miranda laughed loudly. “I really need to see what he looks like now.”
Smoothing a hand over her hair, Mom nodded. “Oh yes, you do need to see him. He was wearing this flannel shirt, and while that’s not an attractive article of clothing on most men, it made—”
“All right. It’s time for us to leave.” I came around the desk and kissed Mom’s cheek. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“Just for you to have a good time,” she replied.
I pulled back, smiling. Damn, I was so lucky to have her as my mom. So damn lucky. Saying goodbye, I followed Miranda out into the chilly evening air. Her red Volkswagen Jetta was parked where mine had been before someone decided it needed a glass renovation. After the insurance agent came out, I figured my car would be back to the way it should be by the end of the week.
Climbing into Miranda’s car was like stepping back into the past. Me in the passenger seat. Her car smelling like crisp apples thanks to the scent diffusers. I glanced over my shoulder as she rounded the front of the car and grinned. An entire week’s worth of cardigans and ponchos covered the backseat.
Just like before.
Miranda was oddly quiet as she pulled out of the driveway and coasted to a stop at the end of the drive. “You know we’re giving you a hard time about the Cole thing, right?” she said, and I looked over. Her eyes were squinted as she focused on the road. “Of course your mom and I would love to see you reconnect with him, but we understand why you’d be hesitant.”
I swallowed as I nodded. “I know.”
“I know you’ve dated,” Miranda said, and there was a long pause before she continued. “But I also know you never really allowed those relationships to go anywhere serious.”
Flipping my gaze to the road, I bit down on the inside of my cheek as Miranda pulled out into traffic. I’d dated and those relationships had progressed to sex. The first time after . . . after the Groom had been my senior year at Florida State, and it was a disaster—I’d been a complete emotional mess afterward, but the hang-ups faded as the years moved on. Miranda was right though. The dates never really went beyond a month. I wasn’t sure why.
“I’ve thought about Cole’s offer all day yesterday and most of today,” I admitted.
I’d thought about it so much I was driving myself a little crazy, but seeing Cole had thrown me off. Truthfully, thinking about him wasn’t something new, but the idea of talking to him, seeing him again, had been a pipe dream, a silly little fantasy that I entertained late at night when I couldn’t sleep.
And when I did let my mind wander there, I imagined that we’d talk about our careers and discover that we still had a connection. He’d kiss me, and I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t think of him. In other versions, we’d meet and he’d be happily married with kids, and I’d be sad but satisfied that he was doing okay. It never had been a real possibility, and now that it was, when there was a chance to talk about our careers and what the past ten years had meant for us, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“And?” she queried when I didn’t continue.
I sat back in the seat. “And I . . . part of me, a very big part of me, wants to have dinner with him.”
Miranda didn’t immediately respond as we came to the first of what felt like five hundred stoplights. “But?”
“But . . .” I dragged my fingers over the strap of my bag. But . . . hell, it was hard to even finish the thought, but Cole scared me. He’d scared me back when we first met, because I’d never felt anything like what I had when he would simply look at me. Like there was no one else in the world and he only saw me. When we talked, we never ran out of things to say, and when he had kissed me? I still remembered how crazy he made me feel with just a kiss, as if he was lighting every cell in my body on fire. Being with Cole had made me feel like I was on the edge of a cliff, more than willing to fall off. I’d never felt anything like that again. Not even a smidgen.
He terrified me.
Because he symbolized everything I should’ve had but didn’t.
I couldn’t admit that out loud, because I was afraid of not explaining it correctly. “I don’t know,” I said finally, easing my grip. “Maybe I will call him.”
“Maybe,” she murmured, but it was obvious she didn’t believe me.
The steakhouse hadn’t been here when I’d been around and it was surprisingly busy for the notoriously vacant downtown. Our table was in the back of the narrow first floor, a dimly lit seating area near a staircase that led to the second-floor private dining area I doubt saw a lot of action.
The skin along the back of my neck tingled as our waitress, a blonde woman in her late twenties, poured water into glasses. She introduced herself as Liz. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us, so I ignored the sensation, and told myself to stop being stupid.
Miranda glanced at her phone. “Jason should be here any minute.”
Slipping my fingers under my hair, I rubbed the nape of my neck as I glanced around. There was a table of men in business suits catty-corner to ours. All of them middle-aged. None of them looked familiar. All of them were focused on the dark-haired man at the head of the table. Whoever he was, he gave the impression of being important. “The place is really nice.”
“Opened up about three years ago,” Miranda said, glancing at the menu. “It’s lasted longer than most nonchain restaurants.”
“Do you come here often?” I asked just as the man at the table looked over. Our gazes connected. His eyes widened as he reached up and adjusted his red tie. Caught staring at them, I looked away.
She shook her head as she flipped over the menu. “Not really, but now that you’re back and you live so close, I plan on making you meet me here at least once a week after work.”
I grinned as I looked up again. Unable to focus on the menu, my gaze drifted across the restaurant and past a tall man wearing a white button-down and dark coat, then shot back to him. My brows rose as I lowered my hand to the table.
Took me a moment, but I recognized the man striding toward us. His hair was darker and he wasn’t wearing glasses, but it was that cute boyish face all grown up.
“Jason?” I pushed back from the table.
His lips split into a smile as I rose. “Sasha, look at you.”
Emotion clogged my throat as I stepped out. I hadn’t expected to feel so much seeing him, but I squeezed my eyes shut as I wrapped my arms around him. He tensed a little and then stiffly hugged me back.
Oh man, that was Jason. Always all kinds of awkward, even when he’d held me while I cried last time.
“You look great,” I said, pulling back as I looked up at him. “No glasses?”
“Lasik,” he said, dipping his chin. “And you look amazing, Sasha. The years have . . . they have been kind to you.”
I laughed as I stepped back to my chair, feeling a bit wobbly in the knees. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t I get a hug?” Miranda pouted.
Jason chuckled as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his seat. He had a wiry, tall frame and that hadn’t changed. “Maybe because I see you like twice a week and I haven’t seen Sasha in a decade.”
“Whatever. I should get a hug every single time you see me.”
He shook his head as he folded his hands on the table. My gaze dropped and I saw a glimmer of a gold band. He was married? His brown eyes coasted over my face. “I almost can’t believe you’re sitting here. Wow. It’s been too long.”
“It has.” I wet my lip, deciding I needed to get over the hard part. “I just want to say I’m sorry for the way . . . for the way I left things after everything that happened. You were my friend. You tried to be there for me, and I—”
“It’s okay.” He waved his hand. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“No,” I insisted. “I do.”
Jason looked over at Miranda. “Tell her she doesn’t need to apologize.”
“She needs to apologize,” she replied.
“I’m sorry,” I offered again. “Sincerely.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary, but I accept.” Jason looked up to his left as our waitress appeared. After placing an order for a bottle of white wine, he turned back to me. “So Miranda was telling me you had some problems with your car. If you have any questions once the adjuster shows up, call me. I can help you out.”
“I’ll do that.” I paused when the waitress appeared with the wine and took our orders. “So, I see a wedding band. When did you get married?”
“Oh boy.” Miranda moved his glass closer to him. “Probably should’ve told you about that.”
I frowned.
“This?” He looked down and he smoothed his right hand over his left. “I got married about six years ago. I don’t think you ever met her. Cameron wasn’t from around here,” he explained. “We’re actually separated right now. She’s been visiting family in Ohio.”
“Oh! I’m sorry . . .” Trailing off, I slid a sideways glance in Miranda’s direction. She was studiously sipping her wine. That would’ve been great information to have on hand. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” Jason shrugged it off, but I wondered if that was true. He’d been a quiet and kind boy in college. Not overly sensitive, but he was someone who I pictured was in it for the long haul when he got married. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “What about you? Was there anyone you left behind in Atlanta?”
“No.” I picked up my wine. “No one I was serious with.”
“Cole stopped by and visited her Saturday night,” Miranda announced.
“Miranda,” I sighed, flipping my gaze to her.
Surprise flickered across Jason’s face. “Really?”
“Yep. He invited her out to dinner. She said no.” Miranda raised her wine glass at me. “I told her she should reevaluate that decision.”
What happened to her understanding if I didn’t want to go out with Cole? I guessed that hadn’t lasted beyond her first sip of wine.
“Huh.” Jason sat back, folding his arms loosely. “I had no idea Cole was still around here. Haven’t seen him in ages.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“He was a good guy, right?” Jason set his glass down. “And you seemed to really like him back then. Might be good to catch up with him. Not like it could hurt anything.”
I opened my mouth, but what could I say to that? He was right. Having dinner with Cole couldn’t hurt anything. I’d just needed to check the irrational fear, which was easier said than done.
A shadow fell over our table, and I looked up. The man from the other table, the one with the red tie, stood there. Up close, I pegged his age as midfifties. His face was losing its definition, softening at the jowls, and his brown hair thinning at the peak. His gaze, slightly beady, darted around our table and he nodded at Jason. “Hello, Mr. King and Ms. Locke.” His stare landed on me. “Miss Keeton?” he asked, his tone pitching high on my last name.
Who was this man?
I glanced over at Miranda, who eyed me over the rim of her wine glass. No help there. “Yes?”
He smiled tightly. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Understandable. It’s been a long time.”
My helpless gaze swung to Jason. He shifted to the side, away from the man. “This is Mark Hughes—Mayor Mark Hughes,” Jason explained.
“Hello.” I had no idea who Mark Hughes was, but he was the mayor, so I figured I should smile, and I did.
Mayor Hughes buttoned his blazer. “When you lived here, I owned the hardware shop in town. Still do, but a little busy these days to actually be running it.”
I did vaguely remember the hardware shop, but his face was pretty much still pulling up a blank, so I continued to smile as I nodded, and hoped my rib eye arrived soon.
“Such a surprise to hear that you were coming back to town. Your mother mentioned it when she was at the chamber of commerce meeting last week,” he explained, and I couldn’t fathom how or why that would’ve come up during a conversation with the mayor, but I guessed Mom had just been excited. “I’m hoping there won’t be any . . . issues with your return.”
“Issues?” I repeated, glancing around the table. “I’m not sure what kind of issues you’re referencing.”
“Well, you’re kind of a celebrity around these parts. At least to the media you are.” Mayor Hughes’ shoulders squared while I replayed what he’d just said to make sure I’d heard him correctly. “After all, you are this sensational real-life survivor story and I’m sure once some realize you’re here, they’d like to capitalize on that.” There was a pause. “Maybe you’d like to capitalize on that.”
Miranda cocked her head to the side, lowering her glass; it looked like she’d almost dropped it.
“Excuse me?” I said with a shocked laugh. The back of my neck tingled again, but it was a different feeling than nervousness. It was a wave of irritation.
“Mayor Hughes,” Jason started, placing one hand on the table. “Sasha isn’t—”
Raising a hand, I cut Jason off even though I appreciated his attempt to step in. I didn’t need someone speaking for me. “Nothing about what I experienced is what I’d consider sensational nor something I would want to relive, even if I were to profit from it.”
Mayor Hughes’ hollow cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
I met his stare, because yes, he had offended me, and I wasn’t feeling very forgiving at the moment. Not when my stomach was grumbling.
He lowered his voice as he looked around. “I just don’t want the past being dragged back up, Miss Keeton. I think you’d appreciate that.”
“You’re doing a fine job at not dragging the past up yourself,” Miranda pointed out with a sarcastic smile. “Just want to throw that out there.”
Mayor Hughes ignored her comment. “Our town suffered greatly with the whole Groom business—”
“The town suffered?” Another weird laugh was bubbling up my throat.
“And it took years to erase the stigma and fear,” he continued. “I don’t want to see us losing ground because of one wrong well-meaning conversation with the wrong person.”
My mouth dropped open. Did he honestly believe that I’d speak to anyone in the press about what happened when I hadn’t given one interview in my entire life?
“I’ll leave you all to your dinner,” Mayor Hughes said, backing away. “Have a nice evening.”
Miranda raised her middle finger when he turned his back but chirped happily, “You too!”
“Jesus,” I muttered, picking up my glass. I downed half the wine in a nanosecond. “That guy’s a dick.”
“He’s normally pretty laid-back, but I think he’s a little overstressed right now,” Jason commented. “Especially after what happened this morning.”
“Jason,” Miranda warned in a low voice.
I frowned as I glanced between them. “What?”
“Nothing.” He cast his gaze to his wine glass.
“What happened this morning?” Sitting forward, I plopped my elbows on the table. “Come on. You have to finish what you’re saying.”
“I don’t know.” Jason arched his brows as he ran his finger down the stem of his glass. “Miranda might smack me.”
“I might smack you anyway,” she shot back with a shake of her head.
“What, Jason?” I persisted, ignoring the familiar teasing tone between them.
Sighing, he looked up at her as she pursed her lips. “She’s going to hear about it anyway,” he said. “You know that.”
“But it doesn’t mean she needs to hear about it right now.” Miranda picked up her glass and downed the contents. Placing the glass on the table, she met my stare. Dread crept down my spine. “Especially after all of that.”
“Actually,” I said slowly, getting more irritated, “I want to hear about it right now.”
“A woman went missing out of Frederick at the beginning of the month,” he explained, repeating what I’d already heard on the radio. “Did you know about that?”
I nodded. “Not a lot but I heard about it.”
“Well, there was an update, and I only heard about it because the boys—the troopers—always get coffee at the Grind. It hasn’t gone public yet. Probably will by tonight or tomorrow, but I told Miranda when she had a lunch break today. I thought you needed to hear it before it hit the news.” Jason’s brown eyes met mine, and the dread increased, unfurling in my stomach like a noxious weed. “They found her . . . her body early this morning.”
“Oh God.” I pressed my hand to my mouth.
“Right now they think it was someone she knew. I mean, that’s what it normally is,” Jason continued, but the wry glint to his eyes warned me there was more.
I stiffened as I lowered my hand to my lap. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s probably just a coincidence,” Miranda said softly.
My heart tripped up. “What?”
“It’s where they found her body, Sasha. It was off of Route 11,” Jason said, and I jerked in my seat. “Back near the old water tower, where the . . . the Groom used to leave the bodies.”