Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Renthrow
“So we’ve got your agreement?” I look at Theilan and Watson across the table. “You’re coming to the scrimmage on Sunday?”
“Only because Gordie asked,” Theilan grumbles, his eyebrows lowered over his eyes.
“Watson?” I look over at our goalie.
“For Gordie.”
Mauve approaches the table. “I’m glad you boys are talking again. I missed seeing the Lucky Strikers pulling the tables together and having a nice time.”
“We’re not a part of the Lucky Strikers anymore,” Theilan grumbles. “Max made sure of that.”
I want to defend Max, but I barely got these guys to agree to join us at the stadium. I’m not jeopardizing that progress.
Theilan pushes to his feet and storms to the door.
Watson follows him.
“See you guys on Sunday!” I call.
The door crashes behind my teammates.
“They remind me of my moody teenagers after I cut off their video game.” Mauve pats my back. “Everything okay?”
“Getting there. I’ll pay at the register.”
As I follow Mauve to the counter, the bell above the door jangles, and April walks in.
Her eyes brighten and dart around me. “Hey, Renthrow. Where’s Gordie?”
“She’s on a playdate with one of her friends.”
At first, when Gordie begged me to go, I was reluctant. What if she had an episode at her friend’s house? What if the other parent made it worse by freaking out rather than being calm and patient with her during her withdrawal?
I called the psychologist to get her opinion, and she assured me that Gordie seeking out other friendships was a good sign. I dropped Gordie off with strict instructions to call me the minute she felt uncomfortable or overwhelmed.
“It’s Friday night, Gordie’s on a playdate, and you’re here alone?”
“Now you sound like my mother,” I grumble, handing my card over to Mauve.
April laughs.
Mauve joins the conversation, her dark eyes twinkling. “I thought you’d be hanging out with the bike-riding mechanic tonight.”
“Delia’s busy with another guy right now,” April says casually.
Somewhere deep inside my body, a bomb explodes. “Who?”
“Chance told me about him. Said he works for the Davenport company?”
“Brennon?”
“Yeah, that was his name. Delia’s mom sent a car, and he was in the backseat. She got in with him and they drove off.”
Her mom sent the car.
Which means her mom is setting up Brennon and Cordelia on a date.
And worst of all? Brennon and Cordelia will be alone tonight.
My jaw locks into place.
My nostrils flare.
My blood spikes to over one hundred and fifty degrees.
Mauve tentatively hands me my card back. “Here you go, Renthrow.”
“Thanks.” I claw the card back into my pocket and stalk past April. “You ladies have a good night.”
I barely hear their returned greetings. My focus is on the door and then on my car and then on my phone as I dial Cordelia’s number.
I’m not surprised when the line rings and she doesn’t pick up. Tapping the messenger app, I bring my thumb down on the screen when I realize that I don’t have a reason to text her.
What do I even say?
Get away from Brennon? I don’t like seeing you with other men?
She’s going to think I’m a lunatic.
I exit the messenger app and toss my phone across to the passenger seat. So what if she’s out with Brennon? It’s not like anything will happen. Cordelia said she was no longer interested in him.
I close my eyes, and my head reels with nightmarish images of Brennon leaning in and kissing Cordelia. What if—high on her childhood nostalgia—she kisses him back?
She said she’s not interested in him anymore.
Yeah, but the past has a funny way of keeping us locked in chains.
I should know.
Raking a hand through my hair, I start the car but don’t immediately drive. I can’t let this go on without intervening. But how do I draw Cordelia away from Brennon without coming off as a stalker?
I scroll through my phone, stopping at April’s number. Cordelia will pick up her boss’s call, and then I can…
No, I shouldn’t use April like that.
I swipe down and notice the Lucky Falls community group chat. The latest post was about a missing cow that wandered out of the Trentwood Farms. I could put out a post asking if anyone’s seen Cordelia around town. That way, I could figure out where she and Brennon are…
Cordelia isn’t cattle.
I smack my head against the headrest, biting back the panic. Should I spend the night driving around town looking for her?
No, I shouldn’t. That would really be stalking then.
I should just go home.
The car starts with a purr, and I drive slowly down Main Street. Cars honk as I move at a snail’s pace, looking through all the diners and shops for a woman with short hair and a leather jacket.
“The heck is wrong with you!” A motorist drives by and flips me the finger.
“Good night to you too, pal,” I mutter, continuing to putter along as dusk gives way to darkness.
It’s not stalking if I’m just driving around town for my own leisure, is it?
Fifteen minutes tick by, and sadly, I don’t spot Cordelia anywhere.
I’m considering where I should go next when the sound of police sirens erupts behind me. My heart tightens when I spot Sheriff Kinsey motioning for me to pull over.
I flick the indicator and bring my car to a stop on the side of the road.
“Viking Renthrow, is something the matter?” Sheriff Kinsey asks as he bends to look through my window. “You were driving mighty slow in town.”
“Everything’s fine, Sheriff.”
“Son, have you been drinking?”
“No, sir.”
Gunner’s dad peers at me through weathered eyes. “Is it Gordie? Did something happen?”
“No, sir.” My heart slams against my ribs. I’ve never been the type to break the rules, and being pulled over by a cop is my worst nightmare.
“Then I’ll need to write you a ticket. It’s not legal to be driving this slow in town. You’re impeding traffic.”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff.”
He flicks the yellow pad and scribbles something. As he writes, he gives me a strange look. “You know…I heard Gordie’s ‘cool lady’ was seen around town with that new sponsor from the stadium.”
I spring forward, making the Sheriff jump. “Have you seen Cordelia, Sheriff?”
The Sheriff gives me a long, knowing look, and then he tears the ticket out of the booklet and crumples it into a ball.
He says conversationally, “Back in the day, when a lady wanted a man’s attention, she’d drop her handkerchief.”
My eyebrows crinkle. I have no idea why Sheriff Kinsey is talking to me about old-timey flirting. However, he’s the man standing between me and a ticket, so I nod along and act interested.
“And my wife”—he slips the ticket into his pocket—“had a habit of fighting back when I made the mistake of not paying her enough attention early on in our marriage.”
“How?” I ask, genuinely eager to hear this time.
“Uh”—he chuckles sheepishly—“well, she had her ways.”
I deflate. “Sheriff—”
“What I’m trying to say is,” Sheriff Kinsey continues, “human beings are creative. Now, I don’t know why you were driving this slow tonight, but I suggest…that whatever it was for…you think up better ideas, ones that don’t impede traffic.”
“Understood, Officer.”
The Sheriff taps my car window twice and tips his hat. “You have a good night, Viking.”
“Yes, sir.”
I drive off at a proper speed this time and consider the Sheriff’s advice. At first, I’m slightly offended at the Sheriff telling me to be like a woman dropping her handkerchief, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if there’s some credence to the suggestion.
Rather than drive through Lucky Falls looking for Cordelia, what’s something I could do to get her to come to me?
My eyes drop to the dashboard of my car and the “check engine” sign that’s been off since Cordelia fixed it.
Bingo.
I park on the side of the road and call The Pink Garage.
Rebel picks up. “Hey, this is The Pink Garage. How can I—”
“Rebel, this is Renthrow.”
“Renthrow, hey!”
“I’m in front of the Kinsey’s hardware store. For some reason, my car’s been…driving slow.” I grimace. Maybe I should have come up with a better story before I called. “And I’m not sure what to do.”
“Did you hear any weird sounds? Is the ‘check engine’ light on?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to say, “Well, here’s the thing, Rebel. Cordelia’s the one who worked on my car last, so I think she’d be better to explain what’s going on.”
“Oh. Oh.” Rebel’s tone turns syrupy sweet. “Of course. I’ll call her right away, and let her know a car broke down in front of the hardware store.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“She’ll be there soon.”
I hang up on Rebel and grip the steering wheel, breathing hard.
There.
I dropped the dang handkerchief.