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Her dark lashes fluttered.
Okay, if I stayed here any longer, I'd just go on making a fool of myself. I'd set the groundwork. If she was innocent, we'd know.
And if she was damn good at hiding her past, we'd know that too. Not right now, but soon. I stood up.
"I gotta go unpack. But maybe I'll see you around?"
Her smile was a slow, burning sunset. If this were a film, I'd be rooting for fucking sparks in the sky or somethin'.
"Maybe."
My heart hammering like I'd just asked my high-school crush out to dinner, I stepped out of her house.
I crossed the front yard and stopped dead just seconds shy of my home's front door.
Eyes, their make and color an uncanny replica of my own, glared back at me.
She looked like I was the last person in the entire world she wanted to be around. I'd earned that, though. I'd missed so many of her birthdays and firsts.
I couldn't just stand here and wish all my absence away.
She continued regarding me with her simmering gaze—hot enough to burn a hole in the ground. That, she'd gotten from her mother.
I sighed and braced myself. "Hey, Leia."
She winced like my very tone scalded her. It hurt. It hurt to see my own daughter regard me with so little love.
"Mom's gone."
8
Grizzly
"What d'you mean, ‘Mom's gone?' and get in the house before you catch a cold."
"In this heat?"
"You know what I mean, Leia Smith. Go inside."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Fair enough. Would you rather stay out here all night?"
Leia's face turned red, and a second later, she marched up the front stairs, pulled the door open, and stomped in.
To emphasize how much she hated being here, she slammed the door to my own home in my face.
We were clearly off to a fantastic start.
I looked around, and sure enough, it was like even the hedges had sprung eyes.
People in Oakmont lived by a singular motto.
Live slow, and let go. Unless it was your neighbors, in which case, don't let go at all. Stare them the fuck down until they blabber about whatever's going on with them.
In most cases, it worked. I mean, imagine you're already between a rock and a hard place.
And then you look around you, only to find pairs of beady eyes staring right back while they sip on sweet tea from their porches or wrought iron balconies.
