Page 18 of Where Roads Lead

There was something dangerous about engaging too long in conversation with this girl. I didn’t know exactly why, but I felt it. And I trusted my instincts enough to know there must be a good reason for that.

But even still, I couldn’t stop myself from watching her walk away.

Chapter Seven

Elsie

What was the perfect peace offering when trying to make a deal with the devil?

Or, in my case, Will Hughes.

I settled on muffins. Pumpkin muffins with gooey little chocolate chips in every bite.

They were innocent enough. A sign of good faith to hopefully steer him away from poisoning my latte whenever I next ventured into his shop, because if I was being honest, his coffee was good. Too good to stay away from during my stay here.

I just hoped he didn’t read too much into it and view it as some invitation for us to become the type of neighbors who had dinner parties with each other.

If he even ate proper meals. Honestly, he looked like the guy to have a stick of beef jerky and call it a night. Maybe a canned stew.

No, that wasn’t right. With the muscle mass he was packing, he had to be sustaining himself on something.

After a few moments of deep consideration of Will’s eating habits, I smacked my head to push the thoughts out.

I’d been paying this man way too much of my time and energy, even when he wasn’t around to notice.

A common theme with me. And one I’d come here to break.

I’d really had no idea what time Will would be coming by. He’d been so vague.

I’ll stop by tomorrow.

Was that code for, “See you never, sucker?”

Making up my mind not to worry about it, I sat down at the kitchen table and opened my laptop. It was a dingy thing, but I could hardly afford anything better on the budget I was existing within.

Besides, I probably wouldn’t ever write anything worthwhile anyway, so was it even worth the expense?

“Creative writing is a hobby, dear. Not a major.”

My mother’s words still rang through my head.

I’ll show her, I thought, fingers hovering above the keys.

And then my hand paused. I didn’t have a single clue what the next sentence should be. She stormed off from the broody, arrogant man and then—my mind went blank.

What happened next?

It should’ve been easy. I was the writer, wasn’t I? I could decide what happened. I just needed to figure out what I wanted to happen next.

And what I wanted was—well, I wanted my old life back.

I bit into my muffin angrily, furious about the way events had transpired.

Because when I thought about it, I didn’t actually want my life back. Not after everything that had happened.

Here, I was free. Poor but free, for the first time in my life. No mother to answer to. No fiance to disappoint. No expectations to fall short of in the eyes of everyone around me.

I hadn’t been happy. That was the truth of it. But I also hadn’t done anything to change it.