Page 37 of Somewhere Without You
I jumped to my feet and shoved the letter back into the satchel, trying to dial down the panic fluttering in my chest. Yanking the fridge open, I shoved the satchel inside and slammed the door before I could second-guess myself.
A white pickup barreled down the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust before it rolled to a stop beside the Focus.LG Contractingwasstenciled across the side in bold black letters.
Stillwearing yesterday’s clothes, Ilookedlike shit andsmelledlike a bar. Thank God Iwasn’ttrying to impress anyone.
I stepped out onto the porch, bracing against the sharp morning breeze as Icarefullyshut the half-broken screen door behind me. Shading my eyes with one hand, I squinted at the windshield, ready to give some halfhearted smile and asorry-I’m-a-messapology.
Butthe second the driver stepped out, my smile withered.
A jolt of nausea twisted in my stomach. The truck door slammed, and I stopped breathing.
Hewastall, alwayshadbeen, but the lanky frame I rememberedhadfilledout with thick muscle.
A nervous heat crept up my neck, as Iwatchedhim walk toward me.
The morning sun kissed his chestnut skin, casting golden light over the stubble lining his jaw and I blinked several times, hoping this ghost of a man woulddisappear, but it only brought him closer.
“Emily?”he said, voice rough with age but still familiar.
The sound of it nearly knocked me off my feet, and I grabbed the porch railing to steady myself.
“Logan?”I choked, disbelief coating my throat like syrup.
Thenhe smiled—those damn dimples still carved into his cheeks.“It’s been a long time.”
Twenty Two
Before
Thesilverbellonmy bike jingled as I pedaled towards Mr. Abernathy’s hardware store. The sound of it clashed with the chime of loose change stuffed inside my pocket as I made a sharp left turn onto Main Street.
Todaywasallowance day, and once a week Gran would let us ride our bikes into town to purchase penny candy at the local hardware store.Usually, Katherine would ride beside me, our tires in sync like always.Buttoday, she stayed behind.
“I’m fourteen now, Emily. I’m too old for penny candy,”she glanced up from her magazine and rolled her eyes.“You’re getting too old too.”
So I rode alone, the sun pressing hot against the back of my neck as I fought off the disappointment of my sister’s absence.She’dbeen distantlately—too focused on herself to pay any attention to me.
I reached the store and slipped my bike into the rack out front. The bell above the door gave a merry jingle as I stepped inside. Mr. Abernathy offered a quick nod from behind the counter before turning back to the customer hewashelping.
The airsmelledlike sawdust and oil as I made my way through the store. Toward the back wall stood the candy display—fullystocked and waiting. I took my time picking the perfect mix. Three strawberry bonbons, a marble-sized jawbreaker, and a chewy grape lollipop. I added a few of Kat’s favorites too, just in case she changed her mind.
“That’ll be twenty-five cents,”Mr. Abernathy said, his voice warm. He reminded me of Santa Claus, with snow white hair and soft blue eyesthatcrinkled when he smiled.
I placed two dimes and a nickel on the counter and waitedpatientlyas he slid the candies into a small paper bag and handed it over.
“Thanks,”I said, already trying to decide which sweet to unwrap first as I stepped back into the sun.
Outside, a group of kids leaned against the brick wall. I didn’tknowtheir names, butI’dseena few of them around school.
“Well, well, well.Lookwhoit is,”a blonde girl sneered, her voice carrying across the quiet street.“Ifit isn’t the orphan freak.”I flinched when her eyes met mine.“Going solo today? Where’s your babysitter?”The others laughed behind her.
I swallowed hard, my mouthsuddenlydry.“Leave me alone,”I mumbled, trying to steer my bike past them.
She stepped forward, still smirking.“Sure, I’ll leave you alone. . .ifyou give me what’s in the bag.”
I held the paper sack tighter.“No,”I said, shaking my head.
She moved in front of me, blocking my path.“Give me the candy, freak.”
