Page 1 of Spring Rains

ChapterOne

Noah

Sittingin the car with the engine idling, I stared through the car window at Lily's Diner, halfway down Main Street, in the small town of Whisper Ridge. The windows were covered on the inside with broken down packing boxes and a solitary rainbow cling was stuck between the cardboard and the glass. Peering through the windshield, which was being covered by a thickening layer of snowflakes, I reached for the controls and flicked on the windshield wipers. The blades moved back and forth, clearing away the snow, so I could get a better look.

“It’s strange seeing it like that,” I said to Fox, nodding toward the diner.

My son, with the requisite shrug of not caring about anything these days, glanced at me, then back down at his phone.

The wipers continued their rhythmic motion, swiping away the snow that was falling heavier now. We sat in silence for a moment, the gentle patter of snowflakes against the car so pretty.

“It used to be so full of life,” I added. “It’s a shame to see it all boarded up like that. Well not boarded. I mean, with flattened boxes, cardboard I think. What do you think?”

Fox grumbled something under his breath, but I was used to that—he hadn’t forgiven me for leaving Columbus for this trip down memory lane, whatever the reason.

I stared back at the diner and couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. It was something from my past, memories of happier times before everything imploded. Despite its abandoned state—Lily had been gone for over a year now—the place was part of Whisper Ridge's history, a reminder of better times.

Thank you, Aunt Lily. I wish I’d come back sooner. I’m so sorry.

Out front, theLily’s Dinersign, with its open white flower and my great-aunt's name, swung gently. For some reason, she'd left the place to me, so Aunt Lily’s little piece of Whisper Ridge was mine now, and even sitting here in my car, staring up at the sign, I didn’t know if I deserved it. The town was smaller than I remembered, or maybe I felt bigger, older, weighed down by everything that had happened since I was last here. Not least the divorce, which was still a fresh hurt, and one of the reasons I’d decided not to sell the property, but to reopen the diner.

Somewhere new for us.

Safe.

A fresh start for me and for my son, Fox, because there was no way my ex, Briggs Lewiston, MLB pitcher for the Columbus River Kings, would be seen dead in the-middle-of-nowhere Wyoming.

Not to mention, it might give me a chance to get my head straight and stop jumping at shadows.

Fox, slouched in the passenger seat, was the spitting image of his dad, Briggs, with his dark brown eyes, blond hair falling in a curtain over one eye, and that stubborn tilt to his chin telling me he was pissed. He’d been tapping away on his phone, as he had been doing the entire three days and change hotels and driving it had taken to get here, and now, as he stared at the diner, his brows were knitted in a frown that seemed to be his default expression these days. Fourteen was a wonder of mood swings and surliness and boy did Fox ace every facet of being a teenager.

“Why here, Dad? I mean, look at this place.” Fox’s voice was flat, his gaze not leaving the screen.

At least he was back to calling me Dad. There had been a shaky few months after I’d left Briggs and gotten custody of Fox, when he’d decided I didn’t have to be called Dad. Never mind that I’d brought him up since Briggs and I married when Fox was six. I’d been the one ferrying Fox to school, attending events, helping with homework, teaching him to swim… me. I loved Fox. I was his dad in every way possible.

Hell, I’ll take Fox calling me Dad again as a win in a very long battle.

I sighed, my fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the diner keys. “It’s a fresh start, Fox. For both of us.”

He snorted, finally checking out the diner. “A fresh start in afreakingghost town. Great.”

“Language,” I murmured without heat.

Fox rolled his eyes. “I hate Papa, but at least we had a life back there.”

The implication scared the hell out of me—was Fox thinking we shouldn’t have left? If Fox ever chose to go back to Briggs over me, that would be his decision. Biologically, he was Briggs’s son, but I’d have run away to a country with no extradition rights before letting Fox anywhere near his dad until he was old enough to decide for himself. Thankfully, Briggs’s indifference to his son, and some of the things Fox had seen his dad do to me, meant he was with me. There was so much I could’ve said about why his father’s world had no room for us, but the words caught in my throat, tangled up in the heartache and betrayal.

Instead, I stared at Fox, reallylookedat him, and part of me hoped the things he’d seen were forgotten, because I didn’t want him carrying fear and hurt around forever. But to suggest moving back with Briggs? “Fox, your papa… he’s got his life, and it’s not one that’s good for us. Not anymore, you know that.” The DUI charge, gambling, throwing games, filingfreakingbankruptcy… theeverythingmessing up Briggs’s former charmed life, was a hateful place for anyone to be, let alone a fourteen-year-old kid abandoned by one of his parents.

“Whatever,” Fox said, trying for sullen, but the weight of sadness in his tone was overwhelming.

“And this diner, it’s a piece of family, of history, and maybe it can be a good thing for us, a fresh start somewhere new.”

He shot me an incredulous stare, as if I’d said I was happy we’d moved to the moon. “We could’ve stayed in Columbus, then I wouldn’t have had to leave school. Seb is having a party this weekend, and I’m missing out.”

I schooled my features into sympathy, but all I could think was thank fuck he was missing any party with those asshole kids he’d hung around with. To say I wasn’t fond of the friends he’d had at the academy was an understatement. The school and the pupils were obsessed with materialism, constantly surrounded by the best and most expensive things—nothing in their lives had any authenticity. I didn't want Fox to be a part of that.

I pressed on, trying to connect with him by changing the subject. “You know, my Aunt Lily used to show me how to make the most awesome pies right in that kitchen. It’s where I learned to love her craft, and that’s why I chose to be a pastry chef.”

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