Page 2 of The Sound Of Silence

“I know.”

“And I begged you to tell me if you were going to stay late so I could stay with you.”

“I know that too.” But I was never going to let that happen. Sara has a family, and while we may co-own Audrey’s Gifts and Homeware, she only works here part-time.

“You know I don’t like you being there after dark,” she says slowly in her best motherly tone and then quickly adds, “or anyone… I wouldn’t wantanyoneworking this late.”

I huff out a laugh at her obvious cover. She’s well aware that I loathe the fact that everyone in this town still treats me like I’m fragile. Like I need protecting. Like I’mbroken. And she consciously tries not to. But when she does, at least she’s doing it for the right reasons,notbecause of my past…so I can’t fault her for that.

“I’m leaving now,” I say to reassure her. “But I’m happy to keep chatting while I pack up if it will make you feel better.”

Sara laughs like I’m joking but then quickly accepts my offer, filling me in on her eventful evening spent trying to get her toddler to sleep after her mom gave him candy close to bedtime. I laugh along with her as I double-check the back locks, even though I just locked them, and make my way to the front, switching off the lights as I go. I’ve just stepped out into the darkness when the roar of a motorcycle fills my ears, pulling me up short.

So, it begins.

I’m not ready for everyone to come back this weekend. I much prefer our town when it’s quiet. When I can hide away. When—

“Is that a motorcycle?” Sara asks, and I choke back a silent scream.

“Jesus.” I forgot she was there.

“Oops,” she giggles. “Sorry. But is it?”

“It is.”

“Oooh, is it a guy? Is he hot? I’ve always had a thing for men on motorcycles. I wonder if he has tattoos. How is it that no one in this town has a bike? Maybe Grant will have a midlife crisis and—”

“Sara!” I whisper-yell, cutting her off. “I can’t see him. It’s dark. But if I get any details, I’ll let you know.”

Taking a step forward, I peer out from behind the brick wall, hoping it’s not someone I know, but of course it is. Everyone from my high school was invited this weekend.

“Yes, please shareallthe details.” Sara giggles, cutting into my thoughts again. “Although I’m sure we’ll all know by morning.”

I’m sure we will.The communication flow in this town is, at times, inconceivable. Something could happen at one end of the main street, and by the time I’ve walked to the other end, every person and their dog knows about it.

Except for the one answer I have yet to find.

Sara’s son calls out in the background, and my dark walk home is forgotten. I’ve always told her that her family comes first, and in this instance, that’s a blessing.

Disconnecting the call, I peek around the corner again and see Tate Weston dismounting the same beat-up Harley he had back when we were at school, while a few of his old friends gather around. I’m still shocked by how many past students rsvp’d for their principal’s retirement, but I’m guessing the “open bar” note had something to do with it. No matter the reason, I’m not thrilled about seeing everyone.

Tate turns around, and a cocky smile lights up his face as the girls all fawn over him.Nothing’s changed.He’s always been popular. But no matter how much time has passed, he will continue to make me uneasy.There’s just something about him. A feeling I get.

I make a dash to the alleyway that connects the main road to the backstreets, and within a few seconds I’m completely alone. Exactly how I prefer to be.

I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and yet, I still feel like an outsider. And considering it’s been years since my accident, something tells me that’s never going to change.

Chapter Two

Jesse

Thepuckglidesacrossthe surface exactly on target, slipping past our goalie in an epic score. My teammates cheer, but I ignore the fanfare and turn away. The second the photographers arrived—putting an end to our private practice session—I was done. It’s the offseason; I don’t need to deal with this.

One of my teammates calls me a selfish motherfucker as I skate off the ice, and while he’s not entirely wrong, I still flip him off as I go, making the rest of the guys laugh. My lips twitch and I almost break out in a smile, until the sight of my friend, our team’s media liaison, reminds me of what I agreed to, and I groan.

“Pippa.” I nod, giving her a sour look as she walks toward me.

“Are you all set?” She beams, bouncing on her toes, like we’re heading on some kind of grand adventure, instead of spending hours in the car traveling to her dad’s retirement celebration.

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