Mrs. Williams’ head tilts the way her daughter’s used to when she was being introspective. Such a silly thing to remember about a person.
“Maybe we could even reminisce,” Mrs. Williams says. “There aren’t many people left in town who remember my daughter the way we do. Back when she wasn’t so…lost.”
I manage to swallow past my heart that’s still in my throat. If I’m going to stay in Still Springs, I can’t have this hanging over my head any longer. With a deep inhale, I utter the words I’ve never been able to say until now. “I’m so sorry about what happened with Miranda.”
Her brow furrows. “For what? None of what happened is your fault.”
That isn’t entirely true. My clammy hands tremble as I scrub them against my thighs. “She called me that night, but…I didn’t answer.”
Mrs. Williams’s eyes flood with tears that streak down her cheeks in glistening lines. “She called me too,” she says. “I answered, but it didn’t make a difference. My baby was already gone by the time the ambulance arrived.”
For a moment, I can’t breathe. Knowing that Miranda had reached out to someone else—someone who had answered her call, who had been there for her so she wasn’t all alone in her final moments—steals away the heaviness that has pressed against my chest for over a decade.
My legs finally unlock, and I rush forward to wrap my arms around Miranda’s mother, both of us letting our tears fall like the leaves around us. My therapist was right. This is exactly what I needed. Why the hell did I put it off for so long?
Mrs. Williams draws away with a light laugh and dabs at her eyes. “Sorry for being such a blubbering mess. How long will you be in town?” she asks. “I’d love to meet you for coffee before you go back home.”
Go back home.
Austin isn’t home anymore—I’m not sure it ever was. This place, Still Springs, is where I want to be.
“I’m moving back, actually,” I say, and the words feel like freedom on my tongue. “So we can grab coffee whenever you want.”
Mrs. Williams and I make plans to meet up the following week and then part ways. When I tell Sarah about this, she’s going to be over the moon.
Looks like Still Springs is getting a new resident.
Now, there’s only one thing left to do: Go and get my girl.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
JADE
I sit tightly wedgedbetween Ruby and Dad in Nate’s office cubicle, the space so tiny that my plastic chair scrapes against Dad’s and my thigh presses into Ruby’s.
Nate rests his elbows on his desk that’s littered with crumpled papers, takeout coffee cups, and empty pretzel packets.
“Thanks for your time today,” he says, and relief floods my chest because it looks like we’re finally done here. Dad, Ruby, and I have given Nate all the answers we have about what happened before the fire and how it could’ve started—which was mostly a repeated cycle of “nothing out of the ordinary.” Since Ruby arrived in town last night, the poor thing’s been beating herself up over the fact that she was the last person in the store, but she can’t remember doing anything differently.
“So, no leads at this point, then,” Dad says gruffly.
Nate’s cheeks stain pink. “Well. Just the furnace line of inquiry,” he mumbles, studying the half-chewed pen between his fingers.
“Furnace?” Dad repeats, his confused frown mirroring mine.
Nate sighs and leans closer. “Look, nothing is official until we get the report from the Fire Marshall, but he did say this morning that there appears to be a path of fire originating from the furnace’s electrical wiring.” He points his pen at us. “But that’s preliminary information, and you are obligated to keep it confidential until we figure out what happened and rule out arson.”
I roll my eyes. He’s still on about the freaking arson. And we’ve been trapped in this ice-cold office for an hour—why didn’t he mention the furnace until now? Probably because he wanted to interrogate us without revealing all the facts in case one of us blabs about our evil plan.Newsflash, Nate: This isn’t gonna be a career-making arson bust for you. None of us did anything wrong.
“The furnace in the store has been playing up for weeks,” I say firmly.
“That’s right,” Dad adds. “Was it two times you had the service people out, Jade?”
I nod, feeling the boulder inside my chest finally beginning to loosen. During our meeting at the bank this morning, the loan manager agreed to freeze our commercial loan repayments until we have a resolution on the fire. Now, if the origins of the blaze can be traced back to a furnace that’s on record as being faulty, I have every hope that everything’s going to turn out okay. With an insurance payout, we’d be able to pay off what’s left of the loan in one fell swoopandhave a ton of money left over to cover repairs and, hopefully, Dad’s medical bills.
Ruby and I get up and help Dad to his feet, and I pass him his walking stick that was leaning against Nate’s desk.
“Uh, Jade, have you got a sec?” Nate asks.
