Page 84 of One Southern Summer

Oh, man. He did not want to fall apart right now. Not here. Maybe later, alone in his aunt and uncle’s guest room, he’d replay this conversation and let the weight of her words wash over him. “I love you too, Mom. Thank you for saying that.”

“You’re welcome.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out a travel-sized packet of tissues. “Would you like one?”

He smiled. “Nope, I’m good.”

She dabbed at her tears then cleaned her hands with the sanitizer that lived in her console. A few minutes later, they were back on the road and cruising toward Oxford.

Cole stared out the window. He should feel relieved, right? That his mother had released him of this thousand-pound burden he’d dragged around for decades.

But he couldn’t shake the guilt. It had spread like a kudzu vine, choking out his happiness. Hiding the facts about the funding for Imari’s Place was going to destroy him. Not even that incredible kiss he and Avery had shared could overpower the sickening sensation lodged in his gut. He had to tell her what he’d done.

Avery held up her phone and filmed a quick video of the installers carefully lifting the front window into place. She couldn’t wait to show Cole. She snapped several pictures then checked to make sure there was no traffic coming before she stepped out into the cul-de-sac for a better angle.

The camellias along the property line were in full bloom. Their gorgeous pink blossoms and vibrant green leaves added brilliant pops of color to the unfinished construction site. She angled her phone to capture the new window, the camellias and feathery wisps of white clouds dotting the summer sky.

Windows. They finally had windows. She let out a little whoop of joy, which earned her a curious glance from two of the installers, but she didn’t care. Less than two weeks ago, the manufacturer had warned them of a ridiculous delay. Somehow, the crisis had been avoided and they’d taken a giant leap toward the finish line.

She was about to put her phone away when a message from Cole appeared on her screen.

I’ll be back home in about an hour. I’ve made arrangements for your mama and Greer to watch Addison and Hayes. Can you meet me on the dock at 4:15?

Blinking, she read the message again. Well, wasn’t he the sweetest thing? She quickly responded.I would love to meet you on the dock at 4:15. Can I bring anything?

Nope just your gorgeous self.

A smile creased her cheeks.Can’t wait.She resisted the urge to attach a cheesy kissy face emoji.Oh, I almost forgot. Family dinner at 6. I need to be back for that. You are welcome to join us.

Three little dots bounced then stopped then bounced again. Next door Wendy and Shayla stepped out onto the porch followed by Max, Charlie and their sound technician.

She quickly glanced down at her screen. Cole’s message arrived in a telltale whoosh she’d grown to anticipate with the giddiness of a lovestruck teenager.

I’d love to stay for dinner, but only if Nana’s there.

She chuckled. It wouldn’t be a family dinner without Nana.We’re celebrating her release from the hospital.

This time she sent an adorable pink heart. He’d only been in Oxford for a day and a half, and less than a week had passed since he’d walked out of the hospital waiting room. But so much had happened since that last evening they’d been together. Their intense conversation, the kisses they’d shared then Pax’s unexpected interruption and his heartfelt apology—the dizzying pace of her own life left her feeling off-kilter and slightly overwhelmed.

Selfishly, she longed to slow everything down and reconnect with Cole. There was so much they needed to work through. The expansion project’s accelerated timeline wasn’t allowing for much downtime, either. It would be a huge blessing if they finished ahead of schedule, but she could hardly keep up. On top of all that, she’d accumulated an impressive list of influencer campaigns for her social media platforms through the end of the year.

Wendy and Shayla were posing for still photos near the blooming camellia bush. Thankfully, they’d agreed to be a part of the documentary. It took tremendous courage for them to speak up and be willing to appear on camera. As the women embraced and grinned for another photo, Avery blinked back tears. The more time and energy she invested in this project, the more she realized what an impact the foundation had made. Goose bumps shot down her arms as she envisioned the house full of more young women, with jobs and opportunities to further their education. She’d struggled to find her place here, but now that she’d dipped her toe in the pool, she didn’t want to stop being involved. Her plans to get the production line up and running still felt a little too pie-in-the-sky, but she wasn’t giving up.

Her phone chimed with an incoming text message.

She glanced at the screen. Trey.

Hey, Avery. I’m sure you’re quite busy, but I’d like to speak with you. I need to apologize in person. Wondered when we might schedule a time to chat?

Oh, dear.

Avery glanced back toward Wendy and Shayla. She didn’t have time to speak with Trey. At least not right now.

Before she could respond to his request, her phone buzzed again, this time with a notification that someone had tagged her in another post. Since she’d been back in Camellia, every time she’d stumbled across people in the community gossiping about her, their thoughtless words had sent her into an emotional free fall. She didn’t have the emotional energy to get upset right now, especially not before she spoke to Wendy and Shayla. They’d both achieved big milestones recently—a promotion at work and successful completion of an associate’s degree at the local technical college. Not that they needed her praise, but she was so excited for them and didn’t want to miss the opportunity to offer her congratulations.

Avery silently offered a prayer for help. Part of her felt foolish asking for wisdom about online encounters when she stood a few yards from a residence for women who’d endured the unimaginable. But when she’d tried to handle harsh criticism on her own, she’d bungled it every time.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see who’d tagged her. Why not give people the benefit of the doubt? Not every post or comment was malicious. Sometimes people offered gracious encouragement.

Stop. Don’t do this.

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