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“Okay,” Kieran says with a nod. “You can all help. But we’ll have to come up with a plan.”
Gloria
You know what? I just found some. I’ll talk to you later, K. :)
His nose wrinkles at her message before he darkens his screen and shoves it into his pocket.
“I’ll deal with her later,” he grumbles, putting his hand on my knee.
We sit and talk for a few more hours, reminding me of the old times when we hung out at Callum’s and did exactly this. We don’t discuss anything important. But they make me laugh more times than I can count.
And that night, when I slip into bed, two more bodies follow, helping me drift off to dreamland. Getting the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages. The overwhelming feeling of rightness settles over me. No matter my reservations, they will always have a piece of my damn heart.
They’re my damn kryptonite.
“Night, Pretty Girl.”
“Night, Little Star.”
“Night,” I sigh, snuggled between them without any mom guilt, knowing Ly is safely tucked away in a bed down the hall.
The moment we came upstairs, Lyric clung to Kieran and asked him to read her a bedtime story and stayed with him for the rest of the night.
Coming home is weird,especially when it’s in the city that made you. It twists my stomach into knots. Everywhere I look, memories sink their claws deep into my psyche. In the front seat of Callum’s modest SUV, I twiddle my thumbs as the world flashes by. Discreetly, I peek at Lyric, sitting the same way in her booster seat, which Jordy procured before he left. Her tiny blue eyes take in the colors flashing by with interest.
“Are you going to be okay?” Asher asks from the driver’s seat, nervously shifting.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for driving me here.” Not exactly sure why he thought he needed to be my chauffeur, but I’m not complaining. I’m in no mood to drive across town by myself. My head is in the clouds and stuffed full of cotton balls. After everything I’ve endured with the shock of my stalker and my forced visit here—I’m exhausted.
I’m so fucking tired of fighting myself on what is right and what’s wrong. I’m so fucking tired of fighting these feelings festering inside and begging to reemerge. Hopefully, my talk with Ode will wield some insight into what I should do. She was always the one to give me a little nudge here and there.
“No problem,” he says softly. “They were your family, too.” Understanding oozes from his eyes when he sends me a smile, lighting up his face. The bruises continue to disappear, especially since Callum handed him a tiny bottle of cream and instructed him to use it.
I side-eye Ash as we travel through the center of Central City—the heart of my hometown. Down these streets is where I walked daily to and from work, heaving a heavy backpack with determination forcing me forward. This place molded me into the woman I am. Breathing the same air I left is so fucking surreal. I’ve intended to return for years, promising Ode I’d come to visit her and the family but work always held me back.
As we pass the old record store I once worked at, I smile. Every once in a while, Booker texts me updates on his life. After I paid off all his bills, including his loans, he could relax instead of drowning in debt. He was always the father I never had, taking me under his wing and providing me with jobs. I worked my ass off for him to prove to the world I could succeed. And in turn, he always believed in me. No matter what.
Before I know it, I’m pointing Asher in the right direction, down a long, winding path toward the beautiful farmhouse in the middle of three acres of grassland. Corn and bean fields lie around the edges, cutting the property off from the rest of the world. Giving the seclusion, they always dreamed about.
“Where would you live if you could ever get away?” I ask, sipping Korrine’s sweet tea at her dining room table after a long school day.
Korrine smiles, stirring the pot soup she started for dinner. “Long time ago, baby, my mama and papa had a beautiful farmhouse out on Route 36. It was two stories, surrounded by fields. The best sound was the cicadas as the sun set and painted the sky pink.” A nostalgic look overtakes her.
“What happened to it?”
“My brother inherited the property and tore it down. It was unlivable,” she says sadly, looking at the murky soup on the stove. “One day, I’d love to relive that. Sitting on the porch, drinking my sun tea without a care in the world. But that’s just a dream some old woman thought up.”
“This place is huge,” Asher mumbles as he pulls the car to a stop near the side of the house.
I grin, pride puffing my chest. As the house was being built under the constant supervision of a contractor, Ode sent me daily pictures.
“It was her dream house. Thanks for coming with me. This might be—”
He snorts. “A little awkward? I’m about to face the wrath of your best friend. All deserved, I suppose.” His hazel eyes look upward, cataloging every inch of the house with a grin. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’ll live,” I say, patting his thigh without thinking.
The instant my hand comes into contact with him, a buzz zings through my arm, and heat forms on my cheeks. I clear my throat, turning away from his curious gaze. Oh, and I also removed my hand. As quickly as fucking possible before I do something stupid. Like squeeze it. Or lick it or something. God, I need more sleep.
