Page 25 of Salvation

“Or something.” She stills, tracking my movements with those brown eyes. “I quit my job.” She shifts in her seat, thoughts wrinkling the space between her brows. I want nothing more than to pluck each and every one of them from her mind, just to ease whatever weight she’s carrying. “Or lost it? I don’t know, I guess.”

With that, I nod and slide her the beer can I popped open. Out of everything that’s happened since she’s been back, that’s probably the most shocking. If Blake was one thing, it sure ashell wasn’t a quitter. I look at her, hoping she’ll elaborate, but she just says, “It’s a long story.”

I raise a brow in answer. “I’ve got time.”

“He cheated.” Now I’m the one who stills as she pulls in a breath. The small sound is the only thing reminding me to move. I straighten from where I lean against the counter but keep my eyes trained on her as she adds, “With my boss.”

I clear my throat, choosing to place my hands back on either side of the counter. I think if I leave them anywhere else, I’d start breaking every damn thing in this house, and I can’t imagine that’ll help the situation in even the slightest. “I’m sorry.”

She replies with a curt nod, feigning indifference. But the way she fiddles with the rim of her beer can tells me she’s anything but indifferent about the situation. “Like I said,” She shrugs, “Complicated.”

“What could possibly be complicated about that?” I tease, hoping to brighten both of our now sour moods, but I only get a twitch of a smile in return. While I may not know this new Blake, I do know that cheating on anyone is unimaginable. If you’re not interested, just say so. Don’t lead someone on, and don’t waste their time. And cheating on Blake?Blake?The idea of that is downright unfathomable. All I know is that I pray I never set my sights on the guy.

“Yeah,” a breathy little laugh catches in her throat, “At least walking in on them mid-sex proved it wasn’t justmehe sucked at getting off.” My brows shoot up as a red-hot color slowly creeps up her neck. She slaps a hand over her full lips and blinks like she can’t believe she voiced those words out loud. “That…was widely inappropriate of me.”

“No,” I shake my head. “More like a damn shame.”

That blush somehow deepens, and she coughs, slicing that growing tension in half like a hot knife slicing through butter.“So, you have a girlfriend yet? Or still trying to find someone who will take your virginity?”

“Why? You interested in deflowering me, sweetheart?” I tease.

A sputtering comes from her mouth as she tries not to spit out the beer she just took a sip of. Smirking, I turn around to throw some chopped vegetables into the pan I had heating.

“No. No girlfriend. Just me,” I respond, looking at her over my shoulder and finding her staring at me. Or rather, my arms. I’m wearing a cutoff since I’ve just been at the house, so my tattoos are on full display. Suddenly, I’m regretting not throwing something else on when she got here. My entire right arm is covered in black ink, a sleeve of memories and moments that trail down to my knuckles. There are a couple of random lyrics and other miscellaneous shit I got back when I was young and didn’t give a damn about the world. A bull I got with Wyatt—his prissy ass needed a lot of convincing for that one. A carnation for my mom. A rose for my dad. And up on my bicep, there’s a pond, still and quiet, with tall pine trees rising behind it, their reflections rippling across the water like a memory you’re not sure is real.

Her eyes flutter shut. “Is-Is that…?”

“The pond? Yes.”

She stands up so fast that she nearly knocks over the stool she was sitting on at the island. “I’m sorry. You know what? I just realized I may have left the stove on. I should get going.” Then she wiggles the beer can and tucks it in her chest. “Thanks for the beer.”

She practically runs for the door, not even saying bye to the dog. I look to him, now sitting by the door, looking over his back likeIdisappointed him. “Don’t look at me like that,” I grumble and fix my attention back on the vegetables that now lay burnt in the cast-iron pan.

Chapter 26

Blake

The pond. The pond.The pond.

How the hell didn’t I recognize it? The very one that lays in my yard is our pond.Wasour pond. Is that why he built his house on this road? Because of the nights we spent wandering those exact woods? When I saw it, it dawned on me. What other reason would he have for permanently putting something like that on his body?

I could look at that pond in any format and know exactly what it is. Yet I didn’t realize that it was the one now on the propertyI own.Granted, it looks different than it did six years ago. But still. God, I feel so stupid. I want so badly to know what it means to him. Why he’d get something like that. The questions will follow me around until they get answers. And I so desperately wish I hadn’t listened to the girls. Going over there was stupid, and telling him about Marshall was even more stupid. Embarrassment trails me like an old friend, and I wantnothing more than to go back home and hide myself so deeply beneath my covers that no one can find me.

I park my car a few shops down from Bell’s, confused as to why the street is so packed this morning. It’s usually so easy to find parking. This is now my fourth week at the coffee shop, and I truly enjoy it more than I could have ever hoped. As I step out into the crisp morning air, I blink as I take in the huge orange banner hanging overhead.

Nowthatmakes sense.

Clover-Hills Harvest Festival

September 12-14

Est. 1877

Next week. The infamous Harvest Festival, of course. How could I forget? Everyday, it feels like I'm remembering more. Uncovering aspects of this life that I buried so deeply in hopes of just healing.I hadn't even realized it was already approaching September. It’s always a huge event for the people of Clover-Hills. Every storefront, streetlamp, and shrubbery possible will be decorated by the end of the week. That’s exactly why people are milling around now, some shouting orders about what decorations go where and some just walking around to watch it all take place.

The town holds a scarecrow contest that each business owner participates in. The shops do a trick-or-treat for any littles who dress up. Games, food, raffles, a costume contest, a chili contest, pony rides, the list goes on. It’s a big deal, and people come from all over to participate. Surprisingly, it’s not nearly as extravagant as the Christmas Festival, though. I find myself excited for the changing seasons. Christmas in New York City is nothing compared to Christmas in a small town.

Thankfully, the coffee house doesn’t open for about another half hour, so there will be a small reprieve from the crowd. I have a feeling that once the open sign flicks on, we’ll have a fullhouse.I go to push my key into the lock of the front door of the shop, only to see that it’s unlocked. Whitney beat me here. She beams at me as I step in. I beam right back, shooting a teasing grin her way. "Looks like it’ll be a busy morning, huh?"

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