Chapter 1
UNINVITED GUEST
JOSEPHINE
Our town isn’t big by any means. One stoplight off the highway and another halfway through Main Street.
If you asked the locals, it’s one too many, getting in the way of our daily lives.
We’re nothing more than a blimp on the map, but the highway crawls through here against our will, so we don’t have much say in the matter.
The same faded brick buildings have lined this road for decades. The hardware store with a crooked sign, the diner that still smells like bacon grease at all hours, and the tiny post office that somehow keeps the whole place connected to the outside world.
There are a few newer additions, too. My salon, with its pink-and-white striped awning.
The boutique where Lexi used to work. Which we all still avoid like the plague after the way Bethany May treated her.
Her shit’s not really my style anyway. And then there’s the cute little bistro that brought in delicious subs and fancy coffees.
A weird combo, but honestly, some of the best damn food we have around here that isn’t home cooking.
I sit stuck now, waiting for the damn light to change, though there’s no one at the crosswalk, just Bernice’s truck revving opposite me.
The afternoon sun beats through the windshield, warming the steering wheel under my palms and making the dashboard smell faintly of hot plastic.
You know it’s a scorcher when the AC at full blast can’t combat the heat outside.
A stray dog trots along the sidewalk near the feed store, and somewhere behind me, a car horn gives a quick, impatient tap. My eyes flash to my mirror and recognize Charlie. I flip her the bird, and we both laugh, eating up our wait.
“What’s for dinner?” Haley asks from the backseat, her little fingers tapping against the arm of her booster to the beat of a Riley Green song playing on the radio.
Her pink sneakers kick lightly against my seat, no doubt leaving smudges I’ll pretend don’t exist until this weekend.
I catch her reflection in the rearview mirror, ponytail crooked and cheeks flushed from her after-school chores.
It’ll be late by the time we get home and get situated. The last thing I want to do is make a whole meal on top of cupcakes, but there’s no rest for a soloing mama.
“What do you want for dinner?” I ask because, honestly, I think I’ll have a bowl of fresh tortilla chips with a side of salsa and call it a night.
The bag’s still sitting on the counter at home from our grocery haul, practically whispering my name.
“Mhh, can I have eggs and waffles?”
A girl after my own heart, and she doesn’t even know it.
Because those are the only two things that Miss Independent back there can make on her own, and I’m not about to deny a blessing.
I picture her standing on her little stool in the kitchen, serious as can be, while she cracks the eggs she brought in earlier like a pro, and it makes me smile despite how tired I am.
“Absolutely, breakfast for dinner sounds like a fantastic idea, baby.”
She cheers her excitement, joining in the next song as we finally make our way through town. Her voice fills the car, loud and off-key, and for a minute, the day feels lighter regardless of extra things added to my plate.
Before long, I’m pulling into the fenced-off lot of the clubhouse. Gravel crunches under my tires, pinging off the undercarriage far louder in the unusual quiet.
With most of the guys gone, it looks like a ghost town, not the regular lively spot. The main building’s closed up tight, and the shop that always has its bay doors open, music blaring, is too. It’s slightly unsettling.
“Can I stay in the car?”
“No, ma’am. Unbuckle and let’s go.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh only a kid can manage, but still obeys, scrambling out with her hand held up high for me to take.
Any other day, if the club was in town, I’d walk right in, head for the kitchen, and be back out without a second thought, but something makes me stop and knock.
The place feels different without the usual tools whirring at the shop and laughter spilling out the doors from the guys cutting up.
I doubt Vik had time to let whoever’s supposed to be here know I was heading over.
We wait, Haley’s small hand in mine, our arms swinging back and forth to give her something to do to get the energy she’s brimming with out somehow.
Her ponytail brushes against my elbow every time she leans into me.
She hums under her breath, unable to stand the silence for more than a few seconds before needing to fill it.
Finally, the door pulls open, and Blaze gives me a nonchalant chin lift before he turns on his heels and disappears back to whatever he was doing. No question about why I’m here or if I need anything, but at least it wasn’t one of the new guys who might not recognize me off the bat.
The smell of old cigarette smoke deep in the walls greets us, the same as it was the first time I walked in here almost a decade ago.
“Come on, let’s go find that cupcake pan.”
Now that we’re inside, Haley runs ahead to the kitchen, as if she owns the place. But she would think so, considering she’s been coming here her entire life.
The clank of metal on metal hits my ears before I break through the old school saloon doors. The room is dimmer than usual, with only one overhead light on. It glints off the industrial metal appliances we use for big cookouts and gatherings.
“Find it?”
“Not yet! You’re sure it’s here?”
“Yep, keep looking.”
I lean against the doorway and watch her dig through the cabinets with determined focus. Pots and pans rattle from her efforts, like she’s on a treasure hunt.
Just as I’m about to step in so we can get going, a thunderous pounding sounds from the front door. Their hard, impatient knocks boom through the whole building. Whoever it is seems intent on getting someone’s attention.
“Blaze!” I holler down the hall, pitching my voice over the steady beat behind me, but after a while, he doesn’t appear.
The assault against the front door continues, rattling the frame with every hit, and I really don’t want to open it. The sound sets my nerves on edge. For all I know, it could be someone’s scorned hook-up.
A cat fight is the last thing I want to get into today.
This place sees enough drama without me volunteering for more. It just usually happens when the place is bustling during a Friday night rager.
“Hey, baby, stay here. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Haley gives me a double thumbs up and goes back to looking for the cupcake pan, this time digging through another cabinet at the back of the kitchen. I cringe at the clatter of the pots and lids as she rummages, completely unbothered by the unease flittering through my system.
I stomp down the narrow hall, my sandals sticking with every step against the filthy concrete. It’s eerily quiet, just my footsteps and that damn knocking.
Drawing in a deep breath, I do my own rendition against Blaze’s door—at least I think it’s his.
All the doors down this hallway look the same.
The scuffs and scratches in the wood from years of rough living are the only marks of character between them.
No squeak of an old metal bedframe shifting or bootsteps sound from the other side.
“Blaze, open this damn door. Someone’s here, and I’m not about to fucking open it with the way they’re trying to bust in.”
Another stretch of quiet greets me. Typical.
When I actually need the guy, he’s nowhere to be found.
I huff and turn on my heels, irritation crawling up my spine.
I’m not about to pound on every door, looking for him.
There are too many lining the hall, and the basement has always given me the creeps.
All I wanted after a full day at work today was to go home and relax. I don’t know what I did to piss off the universe, but it’s definitely laughing at this turn of events.
I ignore the sound at the front door again. They’re still there. But their determination must be waning, because they only knock a couple of times before pausing a while. Then they start back up. It’s like they’re arguing with themselves about whether it’s worth it to keep trying.
“Find it yet, baby?”
“Yep! I found it.” Haley comes running up, the treasure clutched tight in her little hands, looking proud as can be.
Blaze still hasn’t appeared, leaving me no other option.
If we go out the back, we’ll have to loop around the building, but at least I’m not opening the door to god knows what.
I’ll have the upper hand, preparing myself after coming around the corner instead of getting ambushed on the doorstep like an idiot.
It’s the day that just keeps on giving.
Haley looks at me funny when I pull us toward the metal door at the back of the kitchen that leads into the empty field out back, where we cook out and camp in the summers.
The hinges groan as I push it open, letting in a rush of warm air and the smell of dry grass. Sunlight floods in, too bright after the dim clubhouse. It’s a quick walk, our footsteps announcing our arrival from around the corner.
I stop dead in my tracks. It’s not some vengeful lover looking to chew out one of the guys or someone sketchy with bad intentions; it’s just a kid.
I tilt my head and squint against the sun, shielding my eyes with my free hand.
Something about him looks familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it until he shifts and his eyes connect with mine.