Chapter 8 #2
“How do you take your coffee?” she calls.
“Milk or vanilla creamer, if you have it. Otherwise, lots of sugar.”
“Sugar is terrible for you.” She appears in the doorway, holding two mugs. “I only have milk and stevia anyway. You’re getting the healthy version.”
“I’ll survive,” I joke.
She hands me the coffee and immediately takes several steps back, retreating fast.
I take a sip. “Nice. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She nods, wrapping both her hands around her mug. “Isn’t April too early for air conditioning?”
“Better to handle it now before June hits and the AC runs nonstop.” I set the mug on a patch of the coffee table free of papers. “Once summer kicks in, these units don’t get a break until October.”
“Oh, right.” She watches me work, and her gaze on me feels almost ticklish. “I’m still adjusting to having seasons.”
She stares out the window wistfully, as if she weren’t looking at the lake but straight into the past.
It’s a peek into the life she had before. I latch onto it.
“Where are you from?” I keep the question casual, but I’m desperate for any crumb of information.
Her expression turns even more distant. “California.”
One word. That’s all she gives me. No explanation. But it’s a start.
I brush last year’s dust from the filter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends on the question.”
“Why did you move to Blue Crescent Harbor?” I glance at her over my shoulder. “Rebecca told me you don’t talk about it. She said you’re a beautiful mystery that washed up on our shores.”
Faye’s eyes widen at the word “beautiful.” Like she’s wondering if that’s Beck talking or me.
My sister said it, but I’m the one who feels it.
“Your sister has a flair for the dramatic.” Faye takes a sip of coffee.
I wait. Sometimes silence works better than pushing.
Finally, she sighs. “It’s not that interesting. I needed a change. My last job didn’t… work out. I saw the posting for Harbor Point Elementary, and here I am.”
I turn to face her, leaning against the wall with one shoulder while I keep cleaning the filter. “Bullshit.”
Her startled laugh makes my chest tight. “Did you just call bullshit on my life story?”
“Someone like you doesn’t randomly end up in small-town Missouri.” I flip the clean filter in my hands. “You’ve got big city written all over you. The clothes, the attitude, the way you talk. So yeah, I’m calling bullshit.”
“Maybe I just really like lakes.”
“Maybe.” I don’t break eye contact. “Or you’re hiding in a place so small no one will find you.”
“Mmm, interesting theory.”
“I’m not judging. I meant that I get it. The need to escape. To start over where nobody knows your history.”
“I thought you Evanses, with your precious founders status, were happily beholden to this town.”
“You’re never going to let me live that comment down, are you?”
“Nope.” She pops the “p,” smiling.
“Fair enough.” I wince-smile back. “And you’re right.
I love Blue Crescent Harbor. I’m not going anywhere.
But that also means I’m stuck with my history.
Born and raised here, will probably die here.
Everyone knows every mistake I’ve ever made.
” My turn to stare out the window wistfully.
“Including marrying a woman who left me and our baby without ever looking back.”
Bitterness creeps into my voice. I can’t help it. Six years, and the wound still isn’t healed.
Faye loses her smile. “I’m sorry.”
Two words, but not the empty sympathy I’m used to. She means them. I can tell.
“Don’t be.” I shake my head. “Rhys and I are better off. Abigail left when he was barely walking. She disappeared one morning, leaving a note on the kitchen table, saying she was tired and that we needed more than she could offer.” I force myself to hold Faye’s gaze.
“I haven’t heard from her since except to sign the divorce papers. ”
“That must have been”—she stops, searching for words— “incredibly difficult.”
“It was. Rhys doesn’t even remember her. I’m all he’s ever known.”
“You’re doing an amazing job.” Her voice is fierce. “Taking on the work of two parents isn’t easy, but Rhys adores you. He lights up when he talks about helping with the animals on the farm, and he’s constantly bragging that his dad can fix anything and makes the best Pancake Sundays.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s given them an official name?”
“Yep.” The smile is back. “Our class gets weekly updates on what shapes you make.”
“This morning it was pirates.”
Her grin widens. “He’ll be telling us tomorrow first thing.”
I nod a silent thank you and turn to lock the filter and grate back in place.
The spare bedroom is next. I walk down the hall, stopping on the threshold. “The one in this room might be dustier. This side of the house gets the wind off the fields, so the filter clogs faster—”
I turn to get inside and stop short.
The twin beds that come with the other cottages have been removed, replaced by a wide, sleek desk set up with three high-end monitors.
A leather gaming chair shaped like a sports car seat is angled toward the screens. On the built-in shelf beneath the desk, a PlayStation, an Xbox, and an older console I don’t recognize are stacked next to each other. A headset hangs from a hook beside the monitors, cables coiled neatly.
I turn and find Faye hovering in the doorway behind me, looking caught.
“Into gaming much?” I ask.