Page 10 of The Lilac River

I resisted an eye roll. “You must be very proud.”

“I am.” She smoothed her skirt. “Anyway, we’re hosting the Mayor tonight. Caterers arriving any minute.”

Of course. Mayor Miller. The man I hated more than anyone. The man who ruined more than just one life.

Monica smirked. “Probably shouldn’t have mentioned him, given the history between you and Nash.” Her voice dripped with faux sympathy. “He dumped you, right?”

My throat closed.

The ball of rage in my chest swelled. My nails bit into my palms.

“He was always flirting with me anyway,” she added lightly.

Enough.

I inhaled sharply. “That was a long time ago. We were all just kids.” I turned away, fiddling with a poster.

But she didn’t leave.

“It’s okay, I get why you don’t want to talk about it.”

Her words were knives wrapped in silk.

She was the same girl from high school, only better dressed and meaner with age.

I kept my back to her. Held the tears. Held the scream.

“Like I said,” I replied quietly, “a long time ago.”

Silence stretched. Then the click of heels. A distant door slam.

I sagged against a chair.

Her words shouldn’t have meant anything. But they did. Because they hit the one place I’d never fully healed.

The place that still whispered his name.

The place that never really stopped bleeding.

“Seriously, Mom? Now?”

“Grandma says she needs it.”

In the background, I heard Grandma holler, “I do!”

I groaned. All this over canned pineapple.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“It’ll take ten minutes,” Mom said.

Ten minutes too long. I wasn’t ready to face town. Not yet.

Still, the sooner I got it done, the sooner I could return to safety. I slipped into my car, drove the short distance, and parked gratefully in a space outside the store.

Downtown Silver Peaks looked the same; the cracked sidewalks, the multi-colored store fronts, the hand-painted flower boxes that popped with color even in the fading summer sun. The street was busy, families heading into Missy May’s Diner, teens loitering outside Mr. Frosty’s, a fresh coat of yellow paint going up on the liquor store door across the road.

I spotted Cody Hargreaves with a brush in hand. Normal. Familiar. Too familiar.

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