Chapter Twelve
Tom
The door swings open to reveal a pajama-clad Emilie, who yawns and rubs her eyes with her sleeve. “Hmmm?”
“Hey, Emilie. Is your mom up yet?”
“Yeah, uh, she left already.”
My heart sinks. “She left? To go where?”
“I think she mentioned something about Edna,” she replies, blinking slowly in the morning light.
“Okay, thanks, Emilie.” I force a smile. “Sorry for waking you.”
“That’s okay, Tom. Bye,” she says in between yawns, then shuts the door.
I retreat to my truck, placing the untouched coffee into the cupholder. We must have barely missed each other.
I pull up to Driftwood Diner and park in my usual spot beneath the oak tree. The brass bell above the door jingles as I walk in, and I scan the crowded breakfast rush for her familiar fiery hair.
“Morning, Tom. Back for another coffee?” Edna greets me from behind the counter, her silver hair pulled back into a bun.
“Hey, Edna.” I shake my head. “I’m looking for Caroline. Did she stop here this morning?”
Her wrinkled hands fiddle with a coffee-stained rag as she speaks. “She was in here earlier, before you came. She had her usual coffee to-go. Seemed a little off this morning.” She waves her hand. “Oh, poor thing. She’s probably just exhausted after all that work she did.”
A lump rises in my throat, hard as a stone. “Did she say where she was headed?”
“Not a word, honey. Just clutched that coffee cup like a lifeline and practically sprinted outta here. I figured she was in a hurry to see you, especially after that dance y’all shared last night.” Edna winks at me, but I politely say goodbye and get in my truck.
Confusion gnaws at me as I sit here, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. We shared that dance. I told her what she meant to me, in not so many words. I didn’t want to scare her off, after all. But I did tell her I’ve enjoyed our time together.
I pull out my phone and go to our text thread. I snap a picture of myself holding the to-go cup, trying to look casual despite the worry bubbling inside me.
Me
Hey, showed up at Maggie’s with a Caramel Macchiato for you. Extra whipped cream and all.
I wait, but as the minutes tick by, she doesn’t respond. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, then decide to call her instead.
The phone rings once, twice, three times, then cuts off before reaching voicemail. A cold pit forms in my stomach. Something isn’t right here, and I know it.
I start the truck and head home. Ten minutes later, I pull into my driveway and notice the empty space where Matthew’s car had been parked.
He stayed at my house last night, while the girls stayed at Maggie’s.
He must be there now, picking them up to leave for home.
I grab my phone and dial him. He answers on the second ring, his voice crackling through the speaker.
“Hey, Matthew, are you still here in Blue Alder Cove?”
“Yeah, I’m at Mom’s. What’s up?” His voice is casual, oblivious to the hurricane brewing in my chest.
“Is Emilie there too?”
I hear Matthew tap his phone.
“Hey, Tom, I’m here,” Emilie says, her voice still carrying traces of sleep.
“Have you talked to your mom?” The words rush out, desperate.
“I’m sorry, Tom.” Her words come slowly, carefully chosen. “She just called me. She didn’t say much, but she’s on her way back to Charlotte. She sounded sad, though, like after-a-sad-movie sad. Did something happen?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” My voice cracks slightly. “Thank you. Drive safely back home.”
I hang up and toss my phone in the passenger seat, where it bounces against the Caramel Macchiato I’d bought her.
The coffee’s probably cold now, just like the trail I’m following.
But something hot and urgent burns in my chest, something that feels a lot like the moment before rushing into a burning building, knowing the risk but going anyway.
I have a crazy idea. But love makes you crazy, right?
Yes, I did say love. I love Caroline Tate.
I love her fiery hair and fiery spirit, her laugh that rises like sparks, the way she bites her lips when she’s overthinking.
And she needs to know that. Right now. I’m done being cautious.
I’m done letting fear of getting burned hold me back.
Watch out, Red. I’m coming in full force, Tom Rivera style—sirens blaring, and heart on my sleeve. You just wait.