22. Everett
EVERETT
T he Ashford Shopping Mall is a place that, quite frankly, I never thought I’d set foot in.
With its over-the-top window displays, perfume clouds, and mobs of people meandering from one shop to the next is all a bit overwhelming to me. But today, I’m a man on a mission—a mission to find something that can actually express what Lemon means to me. And honestly, that’s turning out to be a lot harder than I’d expected.
It’s my fault for waiting until the very last minute. I hadn’t intended to, but that double homicide jolted all of Honey Hollow and it jolted me into protective mode when it comes to Lemon and the kids.
In truth, I can’t think straight knowing there’s a madman out there with a bow and arrow, unafraid to aim and shoot.
It’s barbaric.
And it certainly has me losing sleep at night.
Ironically, trying to come up with a few Valentine’s gifts has me losing sleep at night, too.
Ava and Olivia were easy. Lemon helped me put together baskets filled with teddy bears, socks, and books along with chocolates wrapped in shiny foil.
Lemon, Lyla Nell, Evie, and I will present them with their gifts during a little brunch outing before the big double wedding tomorrow.
Evie’s bracelet was an easy pick, too. She’s been hinting at it ever since Christmas, and I will always appreciate a push in the right direction.
Lyla Nell gets a beautifully illustrated personalized storybook where she is the protagonist who gets to go on a rollicking Valentine’s Day adventure. It even features family members as supporting characters. I spared Noah the part of the villain despite his villainous move against me yesterday. However, it could be argued my need to throw punches was equally villainous.
Regardless, I can’t wait to read the story to her.
But Lemon? I’ve got nothing.
Lemon deserves the moon, and here I am, trying to find something halfway decent in a crowded mall full of people scrambling to buy whatever mass-produced trinket catches their eye.
I weave through aisles stacked with heart-shaped boxes, pricey perfume bottles, and enough pink and red lace to outfit a brothel.
The jewelry section catches my eye—shiny, romantic, expensive. Not that there is a ceiling on what I’d spend to find the perfect gift.
But none of it feels right for Lemon.
Lemon isn’t a prepackaged gift. She’s a rare constellation—beautiful, complex, and radiant. These cookie-cutter trinkets just don’t cut it.
After what feels like an eternity, and three salespeople offering to hose me down with the latest, greatest perfume, a light bulb finally clicks on.
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I know exactly what to get her, something meaningful, something only I would think to give her. Lemon’s gift won’t come from some perfume or jewelry counter.
I’ll need to make a few calls, but it’s perfect. She’s going to love it.
I turn on my heel, ready to get back out into the frozen afternoon when something stops me cold.
Dead in front of the jewelry section stands a familiar young man. He’s leaning in close, too close, to a girl who isn’t familiar to me at all. They’re locked in an embrace. She’s laughing with her hand resting on his arm, and the expression on his face is one I’ve seen before—that smarmy, confident grin of a man who happens to be thinking with anything but his brain.
My blood boils instantly.
This isn’t a misunderstanding. I know full well what I’m seeing. I’ve been around long enough to know exactly what’s happening here.
Without hesitation, I pull out my phone and snap a picture. I get both of their faces—clear as day.
I take a deep breath and consider my options. I could walk over there right now, but that wouldn’t end well for anyone involved—least of all me, who would end up with a homicide charge.
No, this is a problem that’ll have to wait until I can present it to the girl who deserves to know every dirty detail. She deserves the truth, and I’ll be darned if I let this punk hurt her any more than he already has.
And Lemon? She doesn’t need this on her plate right now. Her mental state is paramount at the moment. Especially with everything else going on.
No, I’ll keep this to myself. But that young man had better start counting his days because he just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Conner Saint is a dead man walking.