Chapter 1
1
AURORA
1 MONTH LATER
Will there ever come a time where I don’t skip breakfast and then complain an hour into my shift about how hungry I am? Probably not.
My stomach growls as I recline in my wheely chair and spread my legs out beneath the front desk, letting my eyes drift shut. There are snacks in the back room, but I’m too dog-tired to get up and search for them.
Anna, my boss, offered to pick me up something for lunch on her way back to work, and like an utter idiot, I turned her down the way I have since she offered me a job here six weeks ago. It’s only a matter of time before she stops asking altogether. The only reason she hasn’t yet is that she’s too nice of a person. A bit of a momma bear, honestly.
Curling my body forward, I scoot toward the desk and plonk my forehead against it. My nails are blunt and uneven from my new habit of biting them raw, and as I rub them back and forth over my knee, they scratch at my skin. A manicure would be a good choice. That or some pants instead of the same pair of denim shorts I’ve worn every day in this disgusting summer heat.
I must have missed the memo where Alberta’s supposed to get hotter than Satan’s asshole in July because I don’t remember it ever being this hot in the past thirty years of my life. Yeah, it gets hot in the summer, but I feel like every summer, the top temperature climbs a few degrees. By the time I’m fifty, I’ll probably be better off living in Australia.
When I packed my suitcase and booked ass to Cherry Peak, I wasn’t thinking of summer. I packed with only one thing on my mind: finding answers. My lack of common sense is why I settled into my shitty rental with a suitcase full of socks, a handful of pairs of sweatpants, one single bra and pair of shorts, and too many baggy crewnecks. I clearly reached for my comfort clothes and not much else.
Go fucking figure.
A buzzing sounds from the desk, and I groan, slapping a hand over my phone before looking up at the screen.
Mom: Good morning, Aura. Can you let me know you’re alive so I don’t have to keep thinking the worst?
I swipe the message away and go to set my phone down when another pops up.
Mom: I love you, you know? Always. I’m sorry.
Dropping the phone to the desk harder than necessary, I contemplate whether or not it’s acceptable to block your mother’s phone number from your phone. If nobody knew that I had but me . . . no. Not yet.
Happy, high-pitched chatter sounds from outside the salon before two women swing open the door, making the bell above it chime. The first woman, the one with short brown hair that’s been twisted into a bun and threaded through the back hole of an old baseball cap, is Anna, the owner of Thistle and Thorn, the only hair salon in town. She’s beautiful, with a wide, comforting grin that never seems to waver, eyes the colour of hazelnuts, and a tiny nose that should look out of place on her features but fits her perfectly.
Her entire personality is the complete opposite of the woman who follows her inside. Bryce, one of her best friends, is the sharp to her smooth. The cool to her warm. While intimidating as fuck, she’s also my favourite of the women I’ve gotten to know in Cherry Peak.
Bryce’s glacial-blue eyes land on me once she’s finished taking in the empty salon. She heads right for the desk before leaning two tattooed arms against the edge. They’re bare, her lack of suffocating, hideous work clothes obvious as I get a full view of the piece of artwork on her left forearm.
Just like the first time I saw it, I can’t help but stare, tracing my eyes over the scene and the skill that was used to create such a thing of beauty. Whoever the artist was that created the piece is insanely talented.
There’s a story in the image, from the densely forested background, the cherry blossom tree that stands front and centre, to the cobra wrapped around one extended branch with its collar flared and fangs out. A leopard pokes its head around the trunk of the tree, lips curled and one thick paw set in front as if it’s contemplating leaping at the viewer. The storm clouds above the trees add something to the tattoo that ties it all together in a beautiful way.
Usually, the high-collared button-up blouse that she wears for work hides nearly all of her tattoos, so it’s a bit shocking to see her in a jean skirt that only reaches the middle of her thighs and a cropped band tee.
“No work today?” I ask her.
“The office is shut down for the rest of the week. A water line broke and flooded the back rooms. ”
“It smells like sewage all down Main Street,” Anna says, scrunching her nose.
She grabs her black apron from its hook beside her station and slips it over her head before tying it at her back. It’s long enough to hit just below her knees, hiding her cut-off jean shorts and the oversized rodeo tee she has tied above her waistband.
“Maybe that’s the shit under your boots that’s stinking. You’ve been fully introduced to ranch life, baby girl,” Bryce says, one corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk.
She turns and leans her butt against the desk, slinging one leg in front of the other so her black cowboy boots touch at the ankle. Between her, Anna, and the third member of their group, Poppy, it’s a bit disconcerting how often they wear cowboy boots. I’ve never worn a pair before, and I can’t say I have the undying urge to either. Especially at work.
Anna’s are a lot more subtle than Bryce’s black ones or Poppy’s hot pink pair. At least the ones she wears to work are.
Flinging a finger into the air, Anna points at Bryce. “You’re rude.”
“You’re just figuring that out?”
“True. It’s my fault for letting you hang around. But I’m not about to turn down free help. Now, get to work. The inventory sheets are on the desk,” Anna says, waving a hand in my direction while she starts sorting her station.
I lift a brow at Bryce as she turns her head to look back at me and extends her hand. The stack of papers on the desk includes everything that she needs to get started on the weekly inventory check, but usually, I’m the one in charge of it. I hover my fingers over the sheets but don’t hand them over to her just yet.
“Hold up. You’re not trying to steal my job, are you?” I ask.
Bryce snorts. “You wish. No, I’m not into the whole salon thing.”
“But you’re into the whole office thing?” Anna counters, clucking her tongue .
“I’m not into either, but you’re not my father, so it’s easier to say no to you.”
“Ah, daddy issues,” I mutter.
Bryce snags the papers from the desk before I can stop her. “You sound like you have experience with that specific ailment.”
“You could say that.”
“Wanna elaborate?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the p .
She nods, letting it go. “Fair enough.”
With Bryce, it’s always that easy. She has a big heart inside that iron shell of hers, but she knows when to use it and when to keep it tucked away. Her sense of understanding is one of the biggest reasons why I connected with her so quickly and easily.
I’m not a talker. I don’t share and gush to people about my life or problems often, and being here in Cherry Peak these past six weeks hasn’t changed that. Even if Anna loves to try and wiggle her way inside my brain more often than not.
I don’t dislike that about her, but it’s just different than Bryce’s cool understanding. I’m still unsure if I fit into their group at all. Despite how willing they’ve all been to take me under their wing, I’ve just always been more of a lone wolf. This new sense of friendship with not only one woman but three terrifies me. Makes discomfort wiggle beneath my skin.
I’m grateful for the job Anna gave me after I stumbled inside the salon on my first day in town. Although I was expecting someone entirely different to greet me the moment I busted through the door. My entire trip here was counting on it. So, Anna’s offer helped bank some of my disappointment.
I still haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do now that the person I was searching for has just up and disappeared. Maybe that’s played a part in why I haven’t let these women into my life yet. Not deep enough for it to mean much more than a friendly conversation here and there and a casual Saturday night out when they drag me out with them .
If I’m to leave any day now, wouldn’t it be cruel to grow close to them?
“Are you coming out with us Saturday night, Rory? Poppy and Garrison should be back in town,” Anna says, finished with preparing her station.
It’s only her in today, and with one final client left on the schedule, I know we’re both itching to go home. Thistle and Thorn isn’t a boring place to work by any means, but some days drag more than others.
I prop my chin on my palm and lean over the desk. “I’m not sure.”
“If you’re attempting to become a hermit, I should warn you that that doesn’t really work here in CP,” Bryce says, thumbing through the stack of papers in her hand before snagging a pen from the cup beside my arm.
“I’m not becoming a hermit.”
Anna comes over to us, looking down at me with a deadpan expression. “Yes, you totally are.”
“I’ve always preferred having time to myself.”
“What do you even do in that house of yours, anyway?” Bryce asks.
“Lots of things.”
Anna nods heavily. “Go on.”
“Sit on the back porch. Watch TV. And I don’t have to explain myself to either of you,” I mutter, folding myself back in the chair to create more distance between them and me.
Bryce starts writing on the inventory papers, her script ungodly messy. “The house you’re living in is one thunderstorm away from collapsing on you in your sleep. Don’t blame us for not wanting to find you trapped beneath a piece of rotted wood with a squirrel eating your toes.”
I scrunch my nose. “That is so grossly detailed.”
“It could happen.”
Anna doesn’t look disturbed by her friend at all. Her expression is warm and soft as she says, “I understand if you don’t want to come out. I overstep sometimes because I’ve been in your position and didn’t know how badly I needed some genuine fun until I had it shoved beneath my nose.”
I relax slightly, my walls softening. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
“It’s your funeral. I’ll keep an eye on your house for squirrels,” Bryce says before taking her papers and heading toward the storage room.
Anna and I watch her go. I want to laugh and tell the black cat of a woman to mind her own business at the same time. In the weeks I’ve been here, I haven’t seen a single squirrel. And yeah, the house I’m staying in is . . . lacking charm and decent water pressure and even a genuine aura of safety, but it’s a roof over my head, and that’s all I need. Not to mention, it was the only rental available in all of Cherry Peak, which, once I arrived and saw the size of the town, wasn’t all that surprising.
“I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel pressured to go out with us at all. That’s my fault,” Anna says, nipping at the inside of her cheek with a guilt-stricken expression.
“You’re not pressuring me. I’m just still getting accustomed to the place.”
“I get it. Honestly, I do. The offer is still there if you’re up for it. It’ll always be there. We all really liked it when you came out with us the first time.” She smiles, and the honesty in her words is impossible to deny.
It’s why I don’t tell her that she’s wasting her time with me and instead flash a half-smile that I hope looks convincing enough. I don’t plan on joining their crazy group of friends. Connections like that will only lead to trouble when it comes time to leave. A time that I hope is coming soon.
The only thing I plan on doing while I’m in Cherry Peak is track down Wanda Rose and learn why she up and left this town before I got here.