Page 18 of Debt of My Soul

That’s the problem with breaking up with your high school boyfriend after nine years. Our entire friend group is shared. Or …was. When I left, I effectively removed myself from it. Not that I wanted it that way, but it seems they’ve picked a side.

Tina is pregnant, and Sarah is engaged. All within the two months since I left. No one texted me. Both their significant others are best friends with Chris, but Tina and Sarah weremytwo closest friends in high school. I thought I’d at least hear from them.

A glaringly pristine white truck pulls in next to me and Adam raises a hand in my direction.Huh. I thought his truck was red.In fact, I clearly remember the dirty mud flaps and toolbox in the bed of it.

Gathering my purse and courage, I push out the door. Adam rushes to grapple with the handle, intent on finishing the job. It’s not necessary, but I let him shut it when I’m out and standing in front of him.

“Fleur, you look …” His words trail off as he reaches for my shoulder to give it a squeeze.

I peer up at him. His clean-shaven face and his deep earthy eyes drink me in. He’s in classic blue jeans and a light green V-neck—not much different from his attire when I’ve seen him before.Am I overdressed?

“Not so bad yourself,” I say, pulling my arms in to wrap them around my middle.

He gives me a cheesy grin and guides me to the double doors.

When we step through, I realize I am, in fact, wildly overdressed. Locals fill the rickety wooden building dressed in jeans and work boots. Checkered tablecloths mixed with the aroma of home-cooked comfort food transport me to a time of diners and handwritten menus.

Adam and I draw attention with the first few steps we take to be seated. All eyes in the room feel like they are on us as a young woman leads us to our seats.

She rattles off the nightly special. Fried catfish with collard greens and something else I miss. The bread pudding for dessert is the last thing I catch before she dashes away for our drinks.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been on a date in a while. I’m rusty,” Adam says.

I blink up from my perusal of the collection of iron skillets hanging on the wall and tilt my head in his direction with a smile. “Rusty? We just sat down.”

“I should’ve pulled out your chair.”

“That’s okay, Adam, really. Have you eaten here? What’s good?” I pick up the menu and study the rows of delicious-sounding food.

“I have, but nothing compares to my mother’s home cookin’.” His accent grows every time he talks about home.

“I’m sure.”

“Even at thirty, I’m still wandering home for good food. But if I had to choose …” He scans the menu. “I’d have to go with the tried-and-true catfish. Comes with hushpuppies, but you can sub that out.”

I’m not sure I’ve had fried catfish before, although I’m excited to try.

Our drinks are delivered, and we both place an order for the special before we chat about his day.

“Did you have a nice day at work?” he finally asks.

“I did. I was able to talk with my mom a bit while I turned over several rooms for the weekend. Mrs. Northgate is having some issues with her cabinets, and I think?—”

“I see.”

I pause, mouth half open to continue, but Adam’s gaze is staring past me. The urge to rub the ear he seems to be focused on is strong.

“Do you know them well? Mrs. and Mr. Northgate, that is.”

His spine snaps straight, gaze narrowing instantly before softening. “I guess you could say that.”

That’s it? That’s all I get. It’s like I’m a ping-pong between two stubborn paddles. I tell myself I’m not entitled to any information or drama. Perhaps it’s best if I don’t understand … but then again … “You know?—”

“So, Fleur. How does an amazing woman, such as yourself, find herself in Ruin, Mississippi, of all places?”

I blink. “Actually, I?—”

“Well, well, look who it is.” A slithering, ear-grating voice interrupts my attempt to be honest and divulge that I’m a broken heart in need of repair.

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