It was the story people chose to believe.
AndBrianaLewisknew exactly how to tell a story.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Rose couldn’t ignore it anymore.
At the ball field, when she bent to tie her cleats, she caught two players on another team staring, whispering behind their hands.Atthe grocery store,Mrs.Lanhamfrom down the street tilted her head in that pitying way that said she knewsomething.EvenRileynoticed, slamming his hand on the counter at the coffee shop when a couple of men chuckled on their way out without explaining the joke.
“You want me to go after them?”Rileydemanded.
Rose grabbed his arm before he could storm out.“No.That’sexactly whatBrianawants.Shewants a show.”
“Why not give her one?”Riley’svoice dropped “Thisis killing me,Rose.Acentoo.We’resupposed to be protecting you.Standingup for you.Thiswaiting game is crazy.”
Rose didn’t answer, but her silence was enough.
He swore under his breath, tugging his cap lower.“Thenwe need a plan.Becausethis town?Theylove a whisper.They’llbuild a mountain out of a pebble if you let ‘em.”
Rose nodded slowly, her chest tight.She’dfought hard to build a life that felt steady again.Shewouldn’t letBrianawreck it with shadows and half-truths.
But she also knewBriana.
AndBrianawasn’t done yet.
ByFridaynight,Rosecould hardly breathe under the weight of it.Thewhispers felt like gnats.Small.Annoying.Impossibleto swat away because as soon as she smacked one, three more rose up buzzing around her ears.
She told herself she was imagining it.Thatfolks had always looked twice when she walked by because she ran the only coffee shop for twenty miles, and because she’d never exactly blended in with her wild red hair and tendency to speak her mind.Butdeep down, she knew.
Briana’s fingerprints were all over this.
Tasha followed her into the stockroom afterCindyleft for the day, arms crossed, her braid swinging against her shoulder.“Yougonna tell me this isn’t eating you alive?Areyou gonna keep pretending you don’t notice every time somebody looks sideways?”
Rose stacked sugar bags a little too hard.“Nothing’seating me alive.Juststress.Tournament’sthis weekend.Youknow howIget.”
“Mm-hm.”Tashadidn’t budge.“Youalso chew on your thumbnail when you’re lying, and right now it looks like you’re fixin’ to gnaw it clean off.”
Rose glanced down.Sureenough, her thumbnail was raw.Sheshoved both hands into her apron pockets.“Idon’t want to talk about it.”
Tasha softened, stepping closer.“Rosie…IknowBriana.AndIknow you.Thishas got her perfume all over it.”
Rose’s throat tightened.Shewanted to laugh, wanted to shrug it off, butTasha’seyes, the same steady gaze that had seen her through a hundred mistakes and a thousand heartbreaks, were too sharp, too knowing.
Finally, she whispered, “I'mmaking a plan.I’mnot sureIcan go through with it yet soI'mnot gonna tell you what it is.Okay?Andplease don’t mention it toRileyorAcen.Ican’t stand for them to pester me about what it is.”
The look inTasha’seyes said it was all she could do to nod her reluctant agreement.
That night,Rosecouldn’t sleep.
Her lake house felt darker than usual, shadows thick around the windows.Shetossed and turned, memories swirling.BrianaandAcenkissing on graduation night.Acenleaving town.Brianaleaving town.Hersecret dragging her down, down, down into a dark place she thought she’d never recover from.
Now,Brianawas dragging her back there.
AndRosehated herself for letting it work.
But the fear in her chest felt exactly the same.
The silence pressed in on her.Outat the lake, nights could be achingly quiet, so quiet that the sound of water lapping at the rocks seemed louder than her own heartbeat.Theold house creaked in its bones as if it, too, remembered what had once been buried here.Shewrapped her arms around herself and stared at her reflection in the black kitchen window.
