Page 62 of Slow Burn
As he headed up the driveway, he thought about the one thing he might be able to do for her.
“You still got that note with the threat?”
Surprise flashed across her face, but she dug in her big bag. “It wasn’t really a threat.”
Same thing she’d claimed the other day. But he said nothing as she met his eyes.
“What for, Cole?”
“Gonna see if I can match it to what Ma’s got in her stores. Maybe eliminate one of your questions for you.”
He pulled to a stop, and she handed the scrap over before reaching for the handle.
“What about your car?”
“I’ll have Uncle Joe bring me to get it later. Maybe tomorrow.”
She sounded so sad, and that slammed him hard. He kept his hands on the steering wheel obediently, but he felt like dirt doing it.
twenty-three
“When one burns one’s bridges, what a very nice fire it makes.” - Dylan Thomas
Uncle Joe dropped Jocelyn at her car around lunchtime the next day.
The sidewalks of downtown Cedar Hollow stirred with life as people took advantage of a day with cooler weather. Another storm had blown in the night before, teasing people with the faintest taste of autumn, and Jocelyn moved among them.
She’d been around almost two weeks, and the gazes didn’t linger as much as they used to, like she’d become a bit more of a fixture. Some folks even offered her a nod of friendly acknowledgment.
It was odd, though. That ache in her middle kept throbbing, reminding her there were answers still to be found, a line that kept her from settling.
That thought stopped her. Settling wasn’t the point.
And yet, she found herself drawn across the street, lured not only by practicality, but also some measure of connection. It would’ve been easy to seek it out with Cole, whose presence stillclung to her like heat, pulling at her even as she fought to steady herself. Her body remembered his touch too easily, craving more than she dared allow. The very thought sent warmth into her cheeks.
But she kept on toward Natasha’s boutique. The bell above the door chimed as Jocelyn slipped inside. Natasha was bent over the counter, blonde hair spilling forward as she studied a sheet of paper. She glanced up, her polite smile breaking wide when she realized who it was.
“Jocelyn!” Natasha said, then she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh God, you were staying at the Inn, weren’t you?”
Jocelyn sighed. “Yeah. I’m basically out of all my clothing.”
“Oh, no!” She met Jocelyn halfway across the store and linked arms with her. “Well, let’s get you a few things. On me, of course!”
Jocelyn waved her hands, a pit forming in her stomach. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“No, please,” her sister said. “I can use it as a write-off, and I order these tall sizes just in case, so they end up sittin’ here unless I get them for myself. And I certainly don’t need them!”
She ushered Jocelyn to a dressing room and bustled into the back, returning with an armload. “At least three outfits,” she said, voice stern. “There’s a pajama set in there, too.”
She dumped them into Jocelyn’s arms and pushed her into the stall, hushing any protests. As before, everything fit like it was tailored to her.
It felt flat wrong to watch Natasha place the outfits into big bags and hand them over, but she continued to shut down any of Jocelyn’s attempts at denying the generosity.
“Now,” Natasha said brightly, folding her manicured hands on the counter. “Tomorrow night’s the big bonfire. You comin’?”
Jocelyn cocked her head. “What bonfire?”
“A tradition they started a few years ago. It’s for locals and tourists, a lead in to the Festival. There’s an apple dessert contest.” Natasha’s eyes sparkled like she had a vested interest in that event. Still, it sounded like something no one but her would be happy to find Jocelyn at.
