Chapter 25 Braedyn
brAEDYN
Country rock wove through the air at the perfect volume. Wylder must’ve learned what that decibel was over the years, pinpointing exactly what number to turn it to so you had sound to fill the silences but could still talk over it.
I slid two plates onto a booth table in the corner, one that gave patrons the perfect vantage point of the entire place. “Reuben with sweet potato fries and a double cheeseburger with curly fries.”
Roger slid the Reuben closer to him. “You mean Trav’s daily heart attack on a plate?”
“Like a Reuben’s the picture of health,” Travis shot back.
“Hey, look at these sweet potato fries. So much healthier than those curly fries.”
I shook my head. “I could swap out both your fries for house salads,” I offered.
Travis pulled his plate even closer, wrapping an arm around it. “Pry my fries from my cold, dead hands.”
I held up both hands. “I surrender. No fries will be harmed.”
Roger chuckled. “Smart move. Trav’s real territorial over his food. Ask him what he did to the deputy who stole his leftovers.”
I turned back to the man with brown hair and hints of auburn undertones. “Travis…what do you have to say for yourself?”
He lifted a fry. “I have to say that you don’t steal the leftovers that were getting me through my day. Otherwise, you just might end up with hot sauce in your coffee.”
“And all over your lunch,” Roger added.
“Travis,” I said, fighting a laugh.
He shrugged. “Justice.”
“You two are warriors for it,” I agreed. “Which is maybe why you’ve been in here for lunch every day this week. You checking up on me?”
Before this week, they’d come in for food exactly once. This week, I could’ve set my watch by their arrival.
Roger sent me a cocky grin. “Maybe we just come to chat up the pretty waitress.”
I let out an amused scoff. “Sure you do.”
Travis leaned back against the booth. “Anything out of the ordinary?”
I shook my head. Now that I’d had a few days to recover from the shock of the call, I wished for another one. I would handle it so differently. I’d be calm. I’d ask to speak to Nova. I’d keep whoever it was on the line until Dex’s high-tech software could trace it.
He’d installed some sort of trap-and-trace app on my phone. I only had to open the app and hit a button to record the call and track the location. If I could keep the person on the line for long enough.
“That’s good,” Travis encouraged.
“Maybe. I just…I want answers. Who was it? Why call now after all this time?”
Travis and Roger shared a look.
“What?” I demanded.
Roger cleared his throat. “I wonder if they know you’re here. If they know you’re looking into things.”
A chill skittered over my skin, but I stiffened my spine. “If someone took Nova, I hope they know I’m looking for them. I hope they know I’m coming for them. And that I won’t stop until she’s home.”
A bell dinged, followed by Fiona’s shouted words. “Order up.”
“I gotta get that,” I muttered, turning away before they could respond. But as I headed for the pass-through window, I felt eyes on me. As I glanced around, I came to terms with the fact that it was only my imagination. Everyone was fixed on their own business: conversations, phones, a book.
I let out a long breath as I grabbed two plates and headed for the couple in town for a hiking trip. It took everything in me not to warn them to stick together and not wander off alone. Instead, I told them to have a great time and deposited their burgers and fries.
A new but familiar face greeted me from another table as I moved to take the newcomer’s order. “Jack, right?”
I was piss-poor at connecting faces and names, but I always remembered stories. Especially ones people shared at our Compass meetings. Jack’s wife had gone missing six months ago. Went out for groceries and never came back.
He gave me a swift nod. “Nice to see you again, Brae.”
“You, too. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Coke would be great,” he said, drumming oil-stained fingers on the table.
“Coming right up.”
Before I could turn, Jack’s voice cut in again. “You have any more trouble?”
I stiffened slightly.
“Holly told me,” he explained. “Word usually makes it around the group when someone has something happen—good or bad.”
I shoved down the hint of annoyance that flickered. It wasn’t gossip. Not really. It was community. I was just so damned used to going it alone.
“Nothing else. I wish there had been.”
Jack’s throat worked as he swallowed. “I get that. There was a reported sighting of my Cynthia over the border into Oregon. Keyed me up for months. Every time someone knocked on the door or my phone rang.”
Empathy washed through me, along with a trickle of guilt at my earlier annoyance. This was the gift of being around people who’d been through it. They understood like no one else.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes, hope is pure torture. But we have to hold on anyway.”
Grief washed through Jack’s dark eyes. “Truer words were never spoken.”
I gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “I’ll get you that Coke.” And I would get him dessert on me.
Weaving my way through the tables, I sidled up to the bar.
“Whatcha need?” Wylder asked as he typed away on his phone, a pastime I found him frequently locked into. I wasn’t sure if he was a dedicated Wordle player or had some secret pen pal. But it never affected his work. He had a sixth sense for when someone needed something.
“Coke.”
Wylder shoved his phone into his pocket and scooped some ice into a glass. “Everything good?”
He asked the same question every day.
“Well, between you and your spidey-sense, Travis and Roger’s stakeouts, Cora and Fiona’s buddy system, and Aidan’s glares at anyone who gets too close, I think I’m pretty well covered.”
Wylder chuckled. “You are officially one of us. Welcome.”
That hit me square in the chest. I didn’t think I’d ever had a sense of true belonging like that. The accounting office I’d worked in before had been very official with boundaries. People didn’t share much about their personal lives, and no one knew my story beyond me having a son.
Everything in Starlight Grove was so…different. People knew your business. Occasionally, they used it for wrong, like those who threw the Archer brothers’ father in their faces. But mostly, they used it for good. To look out. To help.
“It’s taking some getting used to,” I admitted.
Wylder slid the Coke across the bar. “You will. But you might want to brace for family dinner. The Archers? We can be…a lot.”
A hint of anxiety flitted through me. “Well, help a girl out. What are you guys into? Besides clockmaking and Bigfoot.”
Wylder barked out a laugh. “Dex really has given you the inside scoop.”
“Just bits and pieces, and mostly about Waylon. What about the rest of you? Hobbies? Family traditions? Help me show up armed to win everyone over.”
“Hot sauce.”
My brows pulled together. “Hot sauce is your family tradition?”
Wylder grinned. “A family rite of passage. A blood oath.”
“Okay?” I said with a laugh.
“Come to dinner with an iron stomach because if someone pulls out Waylon’s arsenal of hot sauces, there’s no turning back. Everyone will give their all to best the others.”
“I guess that’s one way to bond,” I surmised.
“You know it.”
I took the Coke off the bar. “Bigfoot and hot sauce. I’ll make sure I’m ready.”
“Good luck and godspeed,” Wylder called after me.
“Stop trying to scare me off,” I tossed over my shoulder. “You and Dex both.”
Only laughter followed me.
I dropped the Coke off with Jack and took his order before heading to the hostess and a group of familiar faces—two I didn’t expect to see. I knew they both had jobs that probably didn’t provide long lunch periods.
“Hey,” I greeted the duo Cora was chatting with. Holly wore her hair pulled back in a loose braid and had paired it with a business-casual outfit appropriate for the local bank she worked at. And Aster wore a chic yet casual outfit with Western accents that spoke of life on a ranch.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
The three of them shared a look, but it was Aster who spoke. “We wanted to check on you. Make sure all’s okay.”
“And we wanted cheeseburgers,” Cora added with a twitch of her lips, attempting to inject a little levity into the moment.
Holly reached out a hand, resting it on my arm. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”
My eyes burned like they’d been dunked in acid for some sort of science experiment. “That’s really kind.” My voice took on a raspy edge I struggled to clear. “I’m good. No more calls. No nothing.”
Aster studied me for a moment, something about her seeming to see a little more than the rest of them did. “You’re wishing they’d call again.”
I shrugged. “I’d handle it differently now. Play it smarter.”
“Maybe they will,” Cora offered. “Trav said they’re looking into it.”
“Speaking of, your fiancé’s threatening to unalive anyone who looks twice at his french fries.”
Cora’s green eyes lit, and a hint of pink hit her cheeks. “Do not come between him and his food, trust me.”
Holly let out a soft chuckle. “Head over heels.”
“The kind of love we all deserve,” Aster said softly.
Holly scoffed. “Not sure that’s in the cards for most of us.”
I’d learned during the dinner at my house that Holly and her husband had divorced after they lost their son. That kind of thing either had you leaning on each other or tearing each other apart. For Holly and John, it had been the latter.
Aster reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “Never give up the dream.”
Holly’s lips simply pressed into a hard line.
And that was my cue. “Booth or table?”
Aster grinned, knowing exactly what I was doing. “Booth all the way.”
I led them to the open spot next to Travis and Roger so they could all chat. Taking their orders, I lost myself in the rhythm of the lunch rush. Running orders, cleaning tables, ringing folks up. Before I knew it, four in the afternoon hit, and it was time for me to clock out.
Wylder glanced up from mixing a cocktail as I grabbed my Bigfoot tote bag from the cabinet that housed our personal items.
“You out?” he asked.
“Yup. Gotta get Owen.”
“Give me a sec, and I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m good,” I assured him, pulling a tiny, silver cylinder out of my pocket. “Have pepper spray, will travel.”
Wylder grinned. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I will.”
With a wave to Aidan and Cora and a shouted farewell to Fiona in the kitchen, I headed out into the back parking lot—if it could even be called that.
It was only eight spaces, shared between the Boot and the art gallery next door.
But it was nice not to have to fight the tourist crush for street parking.
Beeping my locks, I slid in and started the engine, then maneuvered my way out of the small lot and toward the street. Flipping on my blinker, I turned in the direction of the rec center. But as I did, my heart stopped.
It was just a flash. Reddish-brown hair. Green eyes so like my son’s flashing as he glanced over his shoulder.
Vincent.
I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision. And in those precious moments, the man turned the corner.
Panic lit through me as I glanced around. A truck pulled out of a parking spot ahead, and I rushed toward it. I barely had the key out of the ignition before I was running, trying to find the man. As I rounded the corner, all I saw were tourists milling about and peeking in shops.
I hurried through them, searching, trying to see if the man had been real or just a figment of my imagination. I checked the three tourist shops and one of the many art galleries. Nothing.
Maybe I’d imagined it. Stress. The comments on my posted photo. The call from Nova’s phone. The past was being dredged up left and right. It made sense that my mind would conjure the other main source of tension in my life.
A man with the same build and auburn hair as Vincent stepped out of a gallery. It was very much not Vincent. All the air left my lungs on a whoosh. Just my imagination.
Even if he was still watching my life from afar.