Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
SAVANNAH
“We’re done for today, guys! Don’t forget to do your homework, and remember, football practice is kicking off this Friday, so if you want to participate, make sure to bring in this paper signed by your parents, okay?” I lift the paper in the air. “You can grab them at my table.”
A chorus of agreement spreads through the room as kids collect their things and grab their backpacks. Some of them stop by my table before we head for the exit where there is a line of cars already waiting.
Between parents wanting to get out of here as soon as possible, and kids pumped to be done with classes, the school pickup is always hectic. I chat with the parents, and even a few grandparents as kids slide into the cars before waving them off.
Closing the door, I turn around just in time for a black truck to pull in front of me. My stomach tightens with nerves while I wait for it to come to a stop. The window rolls down, and the older woman sitting behind the steering wheel smiles at me.
Letting out a long breath, I push back my disappointment that it’s not the certain tall former football player.
You told him to leave you alone, I remind myself. This is for the best.
“Hello, Miss Parker. You look pretty like a peach today, my dear!”
I chuckle nervously at the comment. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Maxwell.”
“Nonsense.” She shifts her attention to Levi. “I hope this little one didn’t give you any trouble.”
“Not at all. Levi is one of my best students.” I wink at him. “He’s pretty amazing.”
I wasn’t even exaggerating. Levi was such a nice kid, well-mannered, kind, and really smart. Everything a teacher could ever ask for in a student.
Levi’s grin widens, and he puffs out his chest. “Hear that, Mrs. M.? I’m amazing.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle as she chuckles. “Of course you are.”
I pull open the back door, and Levi climbs up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Parker?”
“Until tomorrow, Levi.”
“Have a good one!” Mrs. Maxwell says as she pulls from the curb.
It takes me an additional fifteen minutes before all the kids are collected, and I can finally return to my classroom. I tidy the space a little, making sure everything is in order for tomorrow before my gaze falls on my desk. There is a bunch of work that has yet to be done. I have papers to grade, class plans to write, and I need to figure out what to do about the practice, but my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me I should probably grab something to eat.
No, not something.
Apples.
An apple pie or cobbler with cinnamon and vanilla ice cream.
Just the idea has my mouth watering, and my stomach grumbles once again, which is weird because I don’t usually even like cinnamon.
“Okay, okay, I hear you, Munchkin,” I chuckle softly and lay my hand on my bump, giving it a soft rub.
At twenty weeks, I’ve only recently started to show, and I got to the point where I couldn’t button my pants. It made this whole situation that more real.
I gather my things and go to my car. The drive to Reading Nook takes only a few minutes. The small bell rings when I push on the door, and the sweet scent of baked goods and coffee fills my lungs.
“I’ll be out in a second,” a female voice calls from the kitchen.
“No rush,” I yell back, taking in the familiar space. The small café and bookshop were decorated in peachy and dark wooden tones that fit our little town perfectly. The music was softly playing in the background, tuned in to the local country station. The whole place has a homey vibe that I simply adore.
A few tables were filled with people. Old Mr. Maverick was sitting at his usual spot, reading newspapers. A group of teens was giggling as they watched something on their phones, and then there were Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Tyson sitting in their spying corner.
They spot me instantly and wave me over. “Savannah! How are you doing, my dear?” Mrs. Miller asks as I join them. “We heard about your house. Are you okay? Do you need help with anything?”
I wince softly. Of course they heard about the house. Nothing could stay hidden for long in Bluebonnet Creek.
“No, I’m fine, but thank you. I’m just sad things turned out the way they did, and the cottage got destroyed.”
“I’ve been telling Marcus that he needs to take better care of his property. Didn’t I tell him that, Trish?”
Mrs. Miller nods, her lips pursed. “You sure did, Millie.”
“Damn right. But did he listen?” Mrs. Tyson tsks unhappily and taps my hand affectionately. “If you need any help, you let us know. Okay?”
My heart swells at their kindness. The two of them were pushing eighty, and Mrs. Miller was even using a walking stick, but I knew that if I asked, they’d help me in a heartbeat; that was the beauty of living in a small town. People might be nosy as hell, more often than not, but they took care of their own.
“I’m good, really, but I appreciate it.”
“You moved into your grandmother’s house?”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“I told you.” Mrs. Miller glances at her friend. “I saw Charlotte today at the store, and she told me she saw lights there and people moving around. At first, she thought somebody was breaking in, but then she saw your car.”
Mrs. Tyson scoffs. “That one always had a flair for dramatics. We haven’t had a robbery for longer than I’ve been born, and it’s been a hot minute since that happened.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hide my amusement at their banter. One thing was for sure: there was never a dull moment between the two of them.
Mrs. Miller gives me a knowing look. “I’m happy to hear that, though. Your grandmother would love to know that you and your baby will make that house your home instead of having it sit empty. That woman loved you so much.”
That familiar pang of sadness hits me at the mention of my grandmother. I didn’t think it would ever go away, not fully, but it wasn’t as intense as it used to be.
“Yeah, she would.” I thought living in her house would be hard, and on occasion, it was. I still couldn’t bring myself to go to her room. However, I also started to remember the good times we had together, of which there were many. “There are some things that need fixing, but we’ll get there.”
“You really shouldn’t be lifting things now that you’re pregnant,” Mrs. Tyson points out before glancing at Mrs. Miller. “Trish, didn’t you say your nephew is coming?”
“Yes, he just called me yesterday to confirm it.” Her eyes shine brightly as they fix on me, and I know what will come out of her mouth before she even opens her lips. “You know, if you need help moving something, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help while he’s visiting.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine. I’m not really lifting anything.” I shake my head before she can get any ideas. “I’m focusing on just clearing out stuff and unpacking.”
This wasn’t the first time they’d tried to set me up since they found out I was pregnant, and I feared it wouldn’t be the last. I wanted to keep my pregnancy to myself for as long as possible, but since those first weeks were pretty rough, with me throwing up constantly, people quickly caught up. They all assumed the baby was my ex’s, and we split up, and I didn’t try to correct them because I thought it’d be just Munchkin and me, only…
This baby is as much mine as it is yours. So, no. I don’t agree with this bullshit.
Blake’s words ring in my head, and I can feel a knot form in my throat. This whole situation was such a mess, and I had no idea how I’d deal with it.
“You guys could still go out and grab a coffee,” Mrs. Miller points out, breaking me out of my thoughts. “He can’t very well spend all his time with me. I’m too old to entertain him.”
“You’re not old, Mrs. Miller!”
Just then the kitchen door squeaks open, and Jessica appears at the counter, a smile pops up on her face when she sees me. “Savannah! How are you doing?”
“Good, I—” The smell of apples and cinnamon reaches my nostrils, and my stomach grumbles, reminding me of the reason I came here. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”
I turn to Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Tyson. “I’m off to grab some of those desserts while they’re still warm, but I’ll see you ladies for the book club?”
“Of course.”
I turn around and go toward the counter, thinking I was pretty sleek about the whole situation, when Mrs. Miller calls out, “Think about what I said!”
Yeah, how about no? I had my hands full as it is. I didn’t want to add a man to the mix.
Jessica fights a smile, one of her brows quirking. “Do I wanna ask?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Can I have some of those apple cobblers? They smell divine.”
“Oh, a craving?” Jessica asks as she grabs a box and starts putting the pastries inside.
“Maybe? It’s weird. I don’t even like cinnamon, but it smells so good, and I can’t get it out of my mind.”
“We can’t have that. Here.” She puts the box on the counter. “Anything else?”
Jessica’s been working part-time at Reading Nook while attending a local community college and was also part of our monthly book club, so we knew each other pretty well.
“No, I think I’m good. How have you been? Did your date go well?”
She sighs. “It was okay; nothing too spectacular.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, it is what it is, I guess.”
We chat for a few more minutes before I grab my order and get back on the road. My feet were killing me after a whole day, and I couldn’t wait to sit down on my porch, lift my legs up, and eat that cobbler.
It doesn’t take me long to get to Grams’ house. My house . It was still hard to think of it as my home. The sun is low on the horizon, the last golden rays illuminating the two-story house as I park in front of it and slide out, grabbing my things.
I look at the place with a critical eye. The house was run down with color peeling and wood creaking with every step, but I could see the beauty it once held, and I planned to bring it back to what it once used to be—with shiny white walls, cherry red shutters, and flowers. Grams loved flowers.
Entering the house, I drop my things in the living room and beeline for the kitchen, where I grab the spoon. Too giddy to wait any longer, I open the box, dip my spoon into the cobbler, and take a big bite. My eyes fall shut as I slowly chew, savoring the delicious taste.
“Damn, that’s good.”
Box in hand, I pad back outside so I can sit on the swing and enjoy some peace and qui?—
My brows furrow as I come to a sudden stop.
Something’s not right.
I pull my brows together as I look around, trying to figure out what exactly caught my attention. Everything seemed to be in order. The swing was in the corner, throw pillows tossed around. The plants I bought are sitting on the side, waiting for me to put them in their place.
“You’re imagining thi—” I shake my head at myself and go toward the swing when it hits me.
The quiet.
The floorboards weren’t creaking.
That’s what was missing.
My gaze falls to the porch, my eyes narrowing as I move a few steps to one side before I go a few steps to the other.
Still nothing.
And did they look darker somehow?
I turn around, my gaze still glued to the floor. If one of my neighbors were to come out and see me, they’d think I was crazy.
Maybe I was.
Because who over-fixates on floorboards out of all things? And yet…
My gaze falls on the steps.
The steps without those damn boards that Blake put on them so I wouldn’t fall.
They were gone.
My head snaps up, eyes zeroing in on the house across the street. “I’m going to kill him.”