Page 2 of These Jagged Edges

The familiar shape of him stirs up memories I had tried so hard to bury. His dark hair is tousled, and though I can’t see his face, his confident stance as he surveys the street feels hauntingly recognizable. My heart pounds in my ears, and I stand frozen, my body refusing to move. Just as panic begins to take hold, he turns away at the last moment revealing his face, and relief floods every fiber of my being.

My devil hadn’t found me, at least not today.

"Earth to Evie." Lou snaps her finger close to my face causing me to flinch back.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Eves." Lou's quick amber eyes catch my flinch and fillwith remorse. I hate that look. It makes me feel small, like I’m broken in a way I can’t hide.

Quickly, I slip my mask back into place, brushing her off. "Girl, it's fine. I drank too much coffee today; it's making me jumpy." I quickly shove that particulardemon back into its hiding spot.

Lou gives me a look that screams bullshit, but Joe interrupts us before she can call me on it.

"Here, Louisiana Rose. Waylon added extra powdered sugar and strawberries. Said you look like shit." A strawberry rolls off the plate as Joe plops down the sugary monstrosity. Truth be told, my best friend has never looked like shit; Lou is one hundred percent a natural beauty with legs that go on forever. She reminds me a lot of Grace Kelly right up until she opens her mouth, but I love her all the same.

Lou licks her lips with a sly smile. "I love it when you flirt with me old man!” Lou calls out, giving Waylon a suggestive wink before digging in.

“You look like a walking corpse! Get some damn sleep,” he rebuttals.

Lou plops a strawberry in her mouth. “So, you find corpses sexy?”

Waylon turns, giving her a stern look. “Girl, you need that ass tanned.”

“Oh, you got a spanking kink? I always figured you’d be more into tentacles and latex. You know, sci-fi shit.” I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh. Waylon fixes us both with a look that screams disappointment before turning back to the vegetables he was cutting. Nothing phases Lou.

"You going to share that Kitty?" a deep voice drawls from the door.

Well,almostnothing phases Lou except Henry Wilder.

Lou's face instantly flushes red, she levels me with a look before growling into her French toast. Henry might have overheard Bash ask her if the cat had her tongue during one of their tension-filled exchanges, where he did all the talking while she glared. Now he insists on calling her kitty and driving her crazy.

Henry Wilder is a towering, burly man. His appearance more closely resembles that of a mountain man than a law enforcement officer, but everyone loves him all the same. Henry is helpful and caring, and he helps anyone who needs it—whether it is changing a flat tire or helping stock shelves at the hardware store when Meryl was feeling down after her chemo sessions. He volunteers at the retirement center, playing card games, and going on outings with residents from time to time. He is utterly devoted to his town and community. He is a good man, not that I had much experience in knowing good men, but over time I can see he is a man of integrity.

Leaning on his hip at the bar, he faces Lou, watching her as she eats. His gaze hungrily eating up every inch of her face. Lou licks syrup from her top lip. Henry's eyes instantly darken as they track her every move. The sexual tension between them is suffocating.

"You guys let just about anyone in here, huh Joe," Lou mumbles into her French toast.

Henry leans down and whispers in Lou's ear. Jumping up, she grabs her purse and stares him down with an eye-gouging glare before stepping out of the diner, slamming the door, and leaving her favorite meal behind.

"Hell, you two make it hotter in here than two mice screwing in a wool sock! Here's your order Henry," Joe tells him while fanning herself with his receipt.

"Jesus Aunt Joe!" Henry’s horrified voice echoes across the diner.

"Just speaking the truth boy!” She starts to laugh.

“Well, y’all, it’s been fun, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” I laugh as I head out the door. God damn sure broke the mold after creating Joe. That woman’s a league all in her own.

Chapter Two

EVIE

Even though Ilove my children, I am drained and have zero energy left after the chaotic afternoon. One child had managed to climb the rickety shed out behind Vic's house and then he brought a lizard as his dinner guest. Imagine my shock when he pulled the damned thing out of his pocket and casually sat him on the table sending the spaghetti in my hand flying onto the wall. Something both boys found hilarious.

After cleaning dinner from the wall, I send the boys off to get a bath needing a second of peace and quiet. Before starting the dishes, I turn on the radio to my favorite rock station. I've gotten into the habit of doing my dishes the moment they hit the sink. For six years, I still feel a sort of panic that hits me like a freight train if I don't get them done quickly. Though some nights, I purposely leave the mess as a 'fuck you' to Trent. But those are the nights he haunts me the most.

Panic is one of those old demons that refuses to leave me. It likes to hang in the background, only surfacing when I've had a good day or feel anything other than self-loathing.It only likes to show up and taunt me that the devil is still out there searching for me. As if I need the damn reminder.

Pitiful, mindless tasks such as dishes can cause me to spiral.

All the books say I'm a survivor, and survivors are supposed to be these strong people, but how I feel about myself is the complete opposite. Lost in thought, I don't even hear someone knocking on the door until Charlie yells, "Door!".

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