Page 88 of Small Town Sizzle

“I’m almost home, but thank you. You’re very sweet.”

“Well, I kind of like you and would love to be around you as much as possible.”

She giggles softly on the other end. “I’d like that.”

“Are you okay? You sound drained.”

“I am. It’s been a long day, long few weeks. It’s all normal, but…I am just exhausted.”

“What can I do?”

“This phone call helps.”

“Let me—”

“No,” she giggles as she interrupts. “You don’t have to do anything. I love your nice gestures and your actions, but this phone call is just as nice.”

I blow out a breath.

I’m so used to buying things to fix all the problems that I didn’t really think that talking or just being there would be enough, too.

“Okay, well, I’m glad I called then.”

“Me, too.”

“What do you think about going out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“I can’t really be gone two nights in a row. I already ask so much out of Alex, but…”

“Oh no, I get it. I wasn’t thinking about that. Let me know when it works for you.”

“How would you feel about going out after the football game Friday night?”

“What if I went to the football game with you and then take you to dinner afterward?”

“Are you sure? It’s a high school football game and—”

“That my nephew is playing at. I want to be there with you.”

“Okay,” she breathes. “I’d like that. Hey, I’m pulling up in my driveway. I should get off here.”

“Good night, Maya.”

“Good night, Garrett,” she replies breathily before she hangs up the phone.

I could have asked more questions about this TJ guy, but she seemed to be exhausted, and I didn’t want to push. It’s a question for another day.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Maya

I’m pacing in my living room, biting the inside of my cheek as I wait for Garrett to show up. It’s been a really rough few days. My boss called to tell me that she had a couple of complaints called into a hotline about me. That someone had been bringing up old things about my past, but all were things I had already disclosed to her.

I’m sure it’s no coincidence that Devon is back and now someone is calling in anonymous tips to the hotline, hoping to get me fired. He thinks that if I don’t have a job, I’ll come crawling back to him, but no such luck there. I am not that woman anymore.

My palms are sweaty, and my pulse is all over the place. I keep glancing at my purse, sitting on the couch, knowing Megan’s journal is inside. Every time I think about what’s on those pages—what I’m going to have to tell him tonight—my stomach twists itself into tighter and tighter knots.

If I survive this week, I can get through anything.

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