Page 13 of Wanted You More

When Dad’s self-isolation and depression got worse, people treated all of us like we were weirdos. He doesn’t get as many job opportunities at the university that he and Mom worked at for the better part of the last two decades because of how much his behavior changed. His tenure is the only thing that saved him from being fired, but he barely works the minimum number of classes to stay employed full time. If it hadn’t been for my grandparents on my mother’s side, who passed away before their daughter’s unfortunate death, buying the house here in Cherry Cove for my family, we probably would have had to move.

There are times I hate the people here for their silent judgments of us. How canwebe the outcasts when we were the victims first? It’s like they expect bad luck to follow us all because of that one night. It just proves that anybody has the ability to be bad, whether they act weird or not around you.

I’m only halfway up Main Street when I hear, “You need a lift?”

It’s a girl with a southern accent who asks the question. Probably a few years older than me, based on the NYU T-shirt she’s wearing. A college girl, most likely here with family or friends on vacation. Which means she doesn’t know why everybody else is looking the other way rather than asking if I need help.

“Maybe,” I reply, stopping and studying the polished Escalade. “That’s a pretty big vehicle for one person.”

The girl grins. “It’s Daddy’s,” she tells me. That’s definitely a southern drawl. “I’ve got four brothers who are all mammoths, so we’ve always needed bigger vehicles to fit them and their sports gear into.”

My head cocks. “Football?”

“Hockey.” She all but groans. “We’re from Georgia, but we’ve always been huge on the NHL. My brother Hunter plays for a minor league team in North Carolina now, but he’s hoping to get signed with one of the national teams soon.”

“Are all southerners this talkative to strangers? My parents always warned me about stranger danger and all that. They made us watch a video and everything. I’m not allowed to take candy from people I don’t know.”

It’s nice to talk about my parents as if they’re as normal as hers. As if they’re both still alive. It lets me be someone I’m not for a little while before I have to let reality back in.

“I’m Lynly Marie, but you can just call me Lyn. As in Loretta.” When I stare absently at the reference, she snickers. “Not a country music fan, huh? Well, I’m Lyn. Just Lyn. If you tell me your name, we won’t be strangers and you can put your bike in the back so I can drive you to wherever you need to go. No candy offering necessary.”

It takes me a second or two before lifting my shoulders and saying, “I’m Austen. As in Jane.” This time, she looks lost. “Not a literature fan, huh?”

Her laugh is light as she hits a button that lifts the back hatch of the Escalade. “I like you Austen. There should be plenty of room back there for your bike.”

Once it’s inside, I make my way to the passenger side and climb in. “I live a few minutes up the road. Just go straight until you see Olympia and turn onto it. I’ll tell you when to stop. I’m just a few houses up.”

She starts driving, country music crooning on low over the speakers, and glances over in my direction. “So, are you a local, or do you live here seasonally? Daddy said he’d never be able to live in Cherry Cove year-round because he’s heard the winters are brutal.”

We’ve had our fair share of crappy winters being so close to the Canadian border, but it’s my favorite time of year because of how quiet it is. “Yeah, I’m a local. The winters aren’t always awful, but they can be rough. You have to find stuff to do, or you’ll be miserable.”

“What? Like ice fishing or something?”

Snorting, I look out the window. “I guess some people do that, but I was talking more about skiing or snowboarding. Ever been?”

Her scrunched face tells me the answer before she confirms it. “No. One of my classmates back in high school broke his leg snowboarding. He crashed into a tree.”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.”

She gapes at me, making me laugh.

I turn down the music because I don’t feel like listening to some depressed alcoholic singing about his girlfriend leaving him for his best friend and taking the dog. “Are you here for the summer or on vacation?”

The vehicle slows down when we approach my street. “We’re here for another couple of weeks. Daddy rented one of the houses near the water because Mama wanted to get away.”

They must come from money because those houses aren’t cheap. I point toward my own personal jail, painted in a pretty pale yellow and looking as welcoming as the other houses surrounding it. “This is me.”

She turns into the driveway and puts the car in park. “Hey, this may be weird since we just met and all, but there’s this thing next week that I was invited to. You should come.”

My hand pauses on the door handle. “Like a party?” I ask, surprised the bubbly blonde is inviting me anywhere. She either makes friends easily or likes to crash things.

Her smile never disappears. “It’s more of a get together from what I hear. But I can pick you up if you’re interested.”

I should probably get Dad’s permission, but I decide he’d be happy I’m making friends with someone other than Marybelle. “I’ll go with you.”

Her face brightens up. “Awesome! I’ll come get you at three.”

It seems like a weird time, but I shrug it off because it beats sitting around the house trying to get convinced to family bond. “Thanks for the ride.”

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