Page 26 of Crossroads of Love

Besides, I’ll have too much time to think if I stay in that empty house a moment longer. And right now, all I can think about is Lena and how her mouth felt on mine.

I don’t know if I was caught up in all of the emotions of being back home or if it was just being in the vicinity of her and remembering all the ways she made me feel seen and heard.

Kissing her was wrong. But damn if it didn’t set all of me on fire.

Every second that I’m alone in the silence of that house, I think about her mouth on mine, and then I flash back to all of the times we spent naked together in my old apartment in the city.

As I park in front of the diner, I can already feel the eyes on me. Hicks Creek may be small, but its gossip travels fast. I enjoy the anonymity of the city, the hustle and bustle, and the fact that very few people know my name.

“Is that Gavin Wells?” someone asks.

“Sure is, such a shame it takes his father’s death for him to return,” someone else comments.

“Thinks he’s better than the rest of us in that fancy car,” a male voice chimes in.

“He does a lot of good work in the city,” an older woman interjects. “You all are just jealous that he has a life outside of here.”

“I don’t care about someone having a life. You should always remember where you came from.”

Typical Hicks Creek. Everyone has something to say about things they know nothing about.

I smile. At one point in my life, I would have yelled or tried to argue my case and make everyone see the truth, but I’ve learned it’s pointless.

I roll my eyes. Some things will never change, and that’s okay.

The bell above the door jingles as I walk into the diner, and the smell of bacon and coffee hits me like a wave of nostalgia. The diner hasn’t changed a bit. It has the same booths, the same cracked linoleum floor, and the same worn-down counter where Aaron and I sat with our parents on Sunday mornings.

My eyes drift to the corner booth, where I can almost see a younger version of myself, stuffing my face with pancakes while Mom and Dad rattle on about the farm or whatever small-town drama had caught their attention that week.

“Gavin?”

I turn to see Becky Miller, an old classmate, standing behind the counter, staring at me like I’m some ghost from the past.

I guess I am to her.

She’s aged, but not in a bad way, just the way people do when they stay in one place for too long.

“Becky.” I nod, forcing a smile.

She leans against the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. I heard you were back in town. Didn’t believe it until now.”

“I’m here,” I reply, my voice flat. I’m not in the mood for small talk, but there is no avoiding it. Not here.

“You staying long?” she asks, already pouring me a cup of coffee. “Heard you’ve been doing pretty well for yourself in the big city.”

“We’ll see.”

She places the coffee in front of me and raises an eyebrow. “People are talking, you know. Everyone’s curious. Rich guy like you, all successful and whatnot, coming back to little ole Hicks Creek. Must’ve been quite the surprise when they saw you pull up in that fancy car of yours.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, they were talking. They probably already dissected every detail of my life by now, from my divorce to my bank account. Must be a boring life to have to discuss someone else’s.

“Yeah, well, small towns don’t change, do they?”

Becky laughs, shaking her head. “No, they don’t.”

“Oh, Gavin,” a woman’s voice breathes as she walks out of the kitchen.

“Miss Betty.” I smile as the woman engulfs me in a hug. “Nice to see you still running the place.”

---