Page 17 of The Last Love Song
Her mouth went dry.
Finally, she read the third message—all from the same local phone number that didn’t show up as one of her contacts.
You should do us all a favor and die.
A stupid joke, right? Her heart pounded harder, slugging her chest in a slow, fierce beat. She knew the text didn’t matter, and it was just a dumb thing to say written by an equally dumb person. Still, Megan’s finger shook as she pressed the buttons that would clear the messages from her phone.
Delete.
Delete.
Confirm delete.
Gone.
She took a breath again once the messages vanished from her device, but she knew the harassment wouldn’t stop. Playing her music wouldn’t make the hurt go away from all the lies J.D. had spread. And working every minute outside of school didn’t take away the fact that she spent almost forty hours a week inside Crestwood High with a hundred classmates who hated her.
Spring—and college—couldn’t come fast enough.
“It’s amazing whatyou can observe at a party just by watching body language.” Heather’s mother’s voice rose from a tall wingback pulled next to the window in the upstairs den.
“There you are!” Heather strode deeper into the room, her eyes still adjusting to the dimmer house lighting after being outside in the sun. “I wanted to see if you needed anything before I head home.”
She’d been out of sorts since talking to Zach and more so after her conversation with Megan. Zach’s suggestion she take the mayor’s seat was just…craziness. Even if a teeny part of her was flattered that he thought her competent for the job. Even if a tinier part of her was disappointed that he wanted her in town more for political reasons than personal.
Turning her attention from fractured thoughts, she knelt beside her mom’s chair and looped an arm around her shoulders.
“I need my house back,” Diana Finley snapped. “But I don’t suppose you can manage that any time soon.”
She forced a laugh and tried to take the words lightly. Her niece, Ally, always got along so well with her moody grandmother and insisted she didn’t mean any harm. It didn’t help that Heather suspected her mother was perfectly serious.
“I think the bride and groom will be heading down to Cajun country before we know it, and most of the out-of-town guests will be right behind them.” Rising to her feet, Heather stared at the lawn where the catering crew packed up the round breakfast tables.
The canopy would stay up throughout the day, along with a small drinks station and a few tables for guests that lingered. Heather saw Megan hefting one of the tables along with two other workers. Did it bother Megan to work at an event that many of her friends attended for fun?
“Bah,” Diana grumbled, waving one hand impatiently, the way she might swat at a mosquito. “I’ve got about fifty goodbyes to deal with and more loads of laundry than I can catch up with in a week.”
Heather peered at her mom, almost seeing the frustrated energy rise from her the way steam might hiss from an overheated car. Or maybe it was simply because her mom shook her crossed leg, the free foot rattling back and forth as if she needed to get something off it.
“Bethany said she’d come over to do the laundry,” Heather reminded her, unwilling to feel guilty for leaving. “Although your only company was just us.”
Erin, Nina, Bethany and Heather had all spent time at the farmhouse during the prewedding festivities. They’d managed to keep the house humming with activity, though their sister Amy’s absence had been a hurt that ricocheted through the whole family. She’d made excuses for not attending their father’s funeral and Heather had kind of understood. But Erin’s wedding? It hurt her, too.
“Family makes dishes and laundry the same as strangers,” her mother pointed out. She looked out the window, distracted by the activity on the lawn. “Do you know that girl? The daughter of the college professor?”
She pointed to Megan, who seemed to be on the receiving end of a lecture from Cecily Alan, owner a local sandwich shop and in charge of the catering. The family had decided it would be too much trouble for Mack and Nina’s new restaurant to tackle the job when they hadn’t fully set up the catering branch. Plus, they were both family members and should enjoy the wedding.
“Meg’s father is a professor?” She’d met Mr. Bryer briefly a couple of times after the family had moved to town a few years ago, but it surprised her that Megan would be concerned about college expenses if her dad already worked at a university.
All Heather knew about Dan Bryer was that he was superprotective of his daughter.
“He gives business workshops for an online program,” Diana said. “Nervous sort who keeps close tabs on the girl, but a levelhead on the town council, from what I hear.” Her mom’s finger thunked against the grid of small panes in the bay window. “I’m going to ask Ally about his daughter. Megan Bryer doesn’t seem to have many friends.”
“Cecily Alan doesn’t like anyone,” Heather retorted, feeling defensive and knowing her mother could be a harsh judge of character. “Megan is a nice girl and a very talented guitarist.”
Maybe she felt a kinship with another musician. Or maybe she just identified with anyone who failed to impress her mother.
“The body language from this group here…?” Diana slid her purple-polished fingernail along the windowpane across another grid to point at a group of girls inside the canopy. “Very negative whenever the other girl walks by. It’s been a soap opera down there.” She sat back in her chair. “Although that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as seeing the designs of the young mayor on you.”
