Page 9 of Where Roads Lead

“He can be an ass?” She laughed. “Trust me. I know. Unless you’re part of his inner circle, he tends to keep people at a distance.”

I let out a quiet hm, thinking it over.

Honestly, I thought it was complete bullshit.

You didn’t need to be best friends with someone to treat them decently. And whoever this woman was, it was clear she was part of that elusive inner circle in question, which meant she probably had no idea what a jerk he came across as yesterday.

Demanding I lose his number. Acting as if I would call on him for any errands I needed done. Ridiculous.

If I saw him again, I would tell him—

“Are you okay?” The woman’s voice interrupted my fully fleshed out battle scene I’d imagined between me and Will.

I paused, face flushing.

“Yes, why?”

“Because your face sort of contorted, and it looked like you were mouthing things under your breath.”

Yeah, I guess I wasn’t going to win any medals in the art of subtlety.

“Oh, sometimes when I’m angry I act out things I wish I had said in arguments,” I told her, figuring I might as well own up to it before she came to her own bizarre conclusions. “I didn’t realize I was doing it now, though.”

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, nodding along as if my explanation made perfect sense before opening the door to the coffee shop for me.

I was vaguely aware of the bells jingling before I was hit with the overwhelming scent of coffee.

I was instantly aware why there hadn’t been many cars on the road—because half the town’s population was here.

Armchairs around an unlit fireplace. Swivel stools at a countertop. Tables. A few couches. They were all filled with people.

“This place is huge,” I said to the woman beside me.

“Yeah, it used to be a house, but Will’s family renovated the bottom floor into the coffee shop,” she explained.

She looked instantly at home, waving and smiling to people as we maneuvered through the crowd toward the register.

I stared up at the menu written across a chalkboard with little artistic designs all across the border.

“Not just a coffee shop, then?” I looked over to the blonde woman, noticing that there was quite a variety of food options as well.

“More or less the town gathering place,” she said with a smile. “You want to get a coffee?”

“At this point, I’d even take the beans to crunch on. That would work, right?”

“How about we get you a real one?” She laughed. “On me, to apologize for what was probably a weird introduction to town.”

“You’re an angel,” I told her gratefully.

I sort of only had three months’ worth of funds to work with, and no income coming in. Needless the say, the pressure was on—and the clock—to finish something that could be passed off as a novel.

I looked around the coffee shop, amazed at how bustling it was. It would’ve been the perfect place to set up my laptop and spend a day writing. Huge windows I could imagine myself sitting beside, spending the day people watching and daydreaming until inspiration struck. The comfiest looking chairs I’d ever seen. And coffee that smelled better than any I’d ever encountered.

I was in my element.

And all at once, my anger faded.

Everything was fine. Blissful. Paradise. Until—