Page 68 of One Southern Summer

“That was sweet of you. Thank you.” He took one of the cartons from her hands then led the way inside. He’d mitigated one part of their disastrous day and shielded her from more unnecessary pain. But had he done enough?

Avery followed Max, Charlie and Cole inside the unfinished building. The rough framing had been completed and the roof finished. Sadly, it didn’t seem like they’d made much progress since the last time she’d been here with Cole. When she’d given Dale her final selections, he had mentioned the window factory had run into a supply chain issue. The plumbing and electrical contractors hadn’t started yet, either. That explained why it was about eleventy bazillion degrees inside. No sign of a breeze, either. She held the tray with plastic cups filled with cold drinks as they stood in an awkward circle in the center of the unfinished room. Already the cotton fabric on her dress was sticking to her torso.

“Thanks for coming.” Cole stood beside her, his cheeks flushed and his expression firm. Unyielding. She gave him the side-eye. With the hem of his vintage T-shirt, he swiped at the perspiration on his forehead. She caught a glimpse of his toned abdomen and forced herself to look away.

“Max and Charlie, make it quick, please.” Cole linked his arms across his chest. “Avery needs to get back to her kids.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. It was hot and things were tense. Why couldn’t Max and Charlie give her and Cole privacy to sort this all out?

“Cole and Avery, that napkin is a relic from your past.” Max grinned then held out his phone. “What an interesting twist this adds to our production plans.”

She shot him a pointed look. He had the same picture on his phone that Genevieve had already posted. “Who gave you that picture?”

“I’m less concerned about how you got the picture and far more interested in knowing why you feel it needs to be incorporated into the documentary,” Cole said, his voice low and sharp.

Avery turned to Cole. “Evidently it’s been shared on social media too.”

Cole’s eyes sparked with irritation. “Of course it has. Which underscores my point. Why include a sentimental item from our childhood in a documentary about human trafficking?”

“Between this new information plus the signs outside, we feel we could tell a much richer story,” Charlie said.

Avery rattled the ice in her plastic cup. “What signs outside?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Cole said, without looking at her. “Let’s decide what to do about this picture first.”

Charlie released a sardonic laugh. “That’s not what you said a few minutes ago.”

“Somebody was probably bored and thought it would be funny to spray-paint something nasty.” Cole’s gaze slid to meet hers. “I don’t believe it’s directed toward you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’d rather we spend the limited time we have together talking about what we can control. Do you really want our personal relationship incorporated into a documentary that viewers can access from a major streaming service?”

Honestly, why was he being so stubborn? “If you don’t tell me, I’ll flip that stinkin’ plywood over and read it for myself.”

He released a frustrated groan then chucked his half-finished drink in the industrial-sized garbage can nearby. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because I already know it was something significant by the way y’all are acting.” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot, Addison style. She could be an adult about this. “Don’t keep things from me.”

A heavy silence blanketed their semicircle. Max stared at his phone. Charlie’s curious gaze pinged between her and Cole.

“Tell me what was on the sign, Cole.”

“Fine.” Cole gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Someone spray-painted the wordshooker,whoreand another word I refuse to repeat on sheets of plywood. Our friends here think it makes for a compelling story. I disagree.”

Oh, he was so compassionate, trying to protect these women from more shame and humiliation. And he was so good at it too. “Frankly, I’m not sure what’s worse. Vandalism with lewd words or people’s comments on social media.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of comments?”

“Julene told me I shouldn’t look, so I didn’t. Not yet, anyway. But the picture of the napkin has evidently generated several comments. Probably not many of them are kind.”

Cole faced Charlie and Max. “Can you give us a day or two? We need some time to discuss this.”

Charlie hesitated. Then nodded. “Shoot us a message when you’re ready. We truly believe this adds a rich layer to the overall story we’re trying to convey. The two of you and your long-standing friendship speaks to your commitment to this community. That’s worth sharing with the world.”

“Noted.” Cole dismissed them with a curt nod. “We’ll be in touch.”

Max and Charlie filed out.

Cole scrubbed his fingertips along his jaw then paced the room. “Avery, this has to stop.”

She tapped the end of her straw against her lips. “What has to stop?”

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