CHAPTER 8
HELEN
When I climb out of my car, I take a deep breath and am glad it feels like spring is finally here again. Nice weather means yard sales, and today is the first market style yard sale of the season. There was no way I was missing it.
Jessi slams her door closed and lets out a groan as she pops her back. I can’t help but giggle at my sister. You’d think that we were in the car for hours instead of less than one because this event is only a few towns over from Dogwood Ridge.
“Don’t act like this isn’t going to be a good time,” I tease her.
The glare she shoots me would be intimidating if I wasn’t her older sister, and if she didn’t remind me of a pissed off kitten. When I wink at her she huffs and rolls her eyes.
“You know I don’t like getting up this early,” she grumbles.
“Fair,” I agree and try to stifle a yawn since it’s not like I’m thrilled to be up this early either. I wrap an arm around her shoulders when I get close enough to her and pull her into my side. “But we haven’t done this in so long,” I remind her.
Her eyes soften and she nods. We let the words remain unsaid, good or bad, for now. I’m not sure that we need to talk about it.
We know.
We were there.
We lived it.
And we got through it together.
Now we have lives of our own, even if we both still exist within the same bubble of our hometown. There’s some safety there which is difficult to ignore.
For some reason, a vision of Rhodes flashes in my head and I can’t help but grin.
Jessi pokes my side and I let out a shriek while we make our way through the parking area and toward the stalls people have set up. I bat my hand at her, and she giggles while sidestepping me. The glare I send her way does nothing. Nothing at all.
“You think I haven’t seen that secret little grin,” she teases me while pointing at my face. “I want to know what it’s about. I’ve been hearing some whisperings about you and a certain Sheriff. And I’m not talking about Sheriff Lyons,” she clarifies while wiggling her eyebrows.
My face scrunches up and I stick my tongue out at my sister who giggles. Still, the expectant look she shoots me tells me she’s not going to let it go. We start to move through the stalls, looking at items as we move slowly.
We don’t even need to go over a game plan; we used to do this so much and easily fall back into our rhythm. It takes me back to when this was something we did all the time. I’m nostalgic for back then, but also proud of how far we’ve come.
“He kind of keeps popping up,” I admit, my eyebrows pulling together as I remember him showing up at Bunz Out.
I was surprised with how scared Graycie was when he joked about stalking me. Her reaction wasn’t normal, but I also know I can’t push her to confide in me. She’s relatively new in town and seems sweet, but we’re not friends, really.
Why would she confide in me?
She has gotten close to Opal, who is connected to the town’s motorcycle club. She’s a nice person and as long as their friendship keeps Graycie safe, I’m not going to say a damn thing about it.
“What do you mean?” She eyes me out of the corner of her eye while we gently go through a few mirrors lined up and leaning against a makeshift wall.
They’re gilded and kind of perfect if I was in the market for one. I think I catch a glimpse of some lampshades a few booths over, but I don’t rush toward them. We’ll make it over there.
“Like I said,” I tell her with a shrug knowing from the look she’s giving me that she’s about to throttle me. “Fine,” I sigh with a whiny undertone. “He just keeps popping up. At Dolly’s Place. At Bunz Out. Uncommon Grounds,” I add on.
I might sound a little exasperated but I’m powerless to stop myself from smiling slightly.
“There,” Jessi points at my face, “that smile. That secret Mona Lisa smile,” she teases me. “So mysterious.” She mimes fanning herself with her hand and batting her eyelashes at me.
“I like him,” I tell her honestly, the words feeling soft and more than a little fragile.
My sister blinks at me a few times and she looks at me seriously. “You’ve talked to him enough to like him?”
She knows about how things ended with Thad. She knows about how he never misses a chance to needle me out in public when he sees me.
Until the last time you saw him and Rhodes was there.
I prefer there to be a connection, something, before anything else happens. It was a lesson I learned—to not involve feelings without there being something there. I’ll never be anywhere near a man like Thad again.
Rhodes is nothing like him.
“Yeah,” I nod and swallow hard, “we’ve talked. About nothing and everything?” I look toward my sister and plead slightly, “It’s weird, okay?”
“It doesn’t sound weird, it sounds nice,” Jessi tells me and for a moment I’m struck at how we’re opposites in so many ways, especially physically. I got dad’s coloring when it comes to our Irish heritage. Jessi is all mom.
She hated her red hair growing up, but she seems to have embraced it as she’s grown up. But our differences weren’t celebrated nearly enough. She was always a reminder of our mom for dad, and there were times when it clearly wasn’t in a good way. It was never her fault.
I hope one day every part of her is celebrated.
“It is nice,” I tell her honestly. “He’s walked me back to work and sat with me during lunch. He bought my coffee and saved me from Thad when he strolled in all smarmy.”
Jessi sneers and I know she’s imagining some elaborate way to kill my ex without getting caught. She’s bloodthirsty like that, especially when it comes to me.
But she would never actually follow through. I don’t think, anyway.
“If he can keep that douche-nozzle away from you then I’m all for it,” she hisses the words and I’m reminded of a kitten again.
With a giggle, I assure her, “I can handle Thad and his crap. But I am glad Rhodes was there.”
“Rhodes is a sexy name,” she hums. “And Rhodes Wilder?” She fans herself again and wiggles her eyebrows at me. “You have to admit it’s a damn good name. Don’t even get me started on the badge,” she teases.
I burst out laughing and she joins me. It has a bright feeling sparkling in the middle of my chest. I’ve missed this.
When we share a look, I can tell that she’s thinking the exact same thing as I am.
With a nod she sees the lampshades I’m after at the next booth and we head over. I want to do a little dance when I see quite a few that will be easy to strip and reuse. If I found some fabric around here, it’ll be the ultimate day at a sale like this.
But I learned doing a happy dance is not ideal when positioning to negotiate a long time ago. Even though some people took pity on me early on and still gave me good deals. Jessi’s eyes light up when she looks my way and I give her a small nod.
“It is a good name,” I tell her honestly while moving away from the lampshades but keeping an eye on them and not moving out of the area. “He lives up to it.”
Jessi presses her hand to her chest and dreamily breathes, “Swoon.”
“Honestly,” I grumble, “you have no idea.”
“Helen,” my sister pulls me to a stop and grips my shoulders. “You have got to stop living in the past.”
I arch an eyebrow at her because she has her own story when it comes to living in the past; one she refuses to talk about or acknowledge. I have the feeling it’ll catch up to her one way or another eventually. I’ll pop some popcorn when the time comes.
Unless she needs me to kick someone’s ass and then I’ll be there. With a shovel just in case.
Huh. Maybe my sister isn’t the only bloodthirsty one.
Jessi blushes and it’s acknowledgement enough. For now.
“I’m just saying. He’s a good man. What is stopping you from seeing where it goes?” She searches my face before nodding. “You can’t assume he’s going to cheat.”
I tip my head back and let out an annoyed little shriek. “I know,” I groan before looking at her again. “He did get my number when I saw him at Bunz Out.”
Her face lights up with excitement and I can tell she’s doing everything in her power to stop herself from jumping up and down. I totally understand the excitement.
Rhodes was both adorable and sexy as he asked for my number after Graycie skittered away. I swear the tops of his ears were a little pink and I kind of wanted to kiss his cheek.
I eye my sister and know she would find the thought sickening. And she would tease me relentlessly.
“I haven’t heard from him,” I admit.
“He’s the Sheriff,” she points out. “Not a deputy. The man has duties and shit. He asked for your number. I think this is a ‘trust the process’ kind of moment.” She taps her chin before arching an eyebrow in challenge.
“Or it could be a ‘if he wanted to, he would’ situation. Still, I don’t think we should assume the worst considering he has been showing up already and may just be tied up with something job related, in this instance. ”
“Yeah,” I agree even though it’s half-hearted at best, “I’m sure you’re right.”
“How many places did he just magically show up to?”
When I look at her, she’s giving me a wicked grin, and I can’t help but grin back. She doesn’t have to spell it out for me.
“You think he was looking for me? It wasn’t just a coincidence?”
The deadpan look she gives me is enough. Then her head cranes and her eyes widen. I already know what she’s going to say when she looks back at me, and I wave her off.
“Meet you in two hours at the front? Then we’ll regroup?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her. “Go.”
I have some haggling to do for some lampshades and some fabric to meander around for. And I have some thinking to do. Getting lost in the rows of stalls and salvaged things next to refurbished pieces has always helped me find a sense of calm.
The rules are simple here. You can haggle for a better deal, but if you can’t agree then that’s all there is to it. No one is entitled here and we’re all just getting through the day. Kindness also matters; a smile will get you far.
I’m practically floating after I get a good deal on a bundle of five lampshades along with a tip on where I might find some vintage fabric. The woman I talked to said the magical words—velvet and notions.
I slip between two tents, thinking I can cut through and get to where I need to be faster, but it’s clearly not really meant to be used this way. My steps slow when I hear some whispered voices from around the corner behind the booth I’m walking next to, and I freeze.
“There’s no way we can find another place in Monroe,” a man groans.
“Fine,” another man grunts, “but you need to find some place because they expect us to have an option for after we shut down operations at the Old Mill. Remember, it has to be big enough for the dogs.”
“Fuck,” the first man grits out, “I’ll do the best I can. I’ve been looking,” he tries to argue.
My brain is screaming at me to back away slowly. Just as I take a step, the first man makes a noise like he’s just figured something out. It rips through the tents, and I jolt and almost let out an unholy screech. Thankfully, my feet start to move again, and I do it slowly.
I suck in a breath the moment I breach the tent line, but I don’t stop. I pick up the shades I bought and then anxiously wait at the entrance while my heart starts to pound out of my chest.
I’m not entirely sure where they’re talking about. I can think of a few places in the surrounding counties which are referred to as the Old Mill because they once all were just that—the mill.
If it’s the one near Hickory, that’s the one I’m most familiar with.
There are some hiking trails not far from the decrepit building, and I might have gone to a party out there once.
It was the only time I did anything even remotely wild, and I felt so uncomfortable that I stayed for half an hour and then fled like the devil himself was chasing me.
Considering some of the things I saw in the shadows around the edges of the old structure, which had seen better days, the devil might have been nipping at my heels.
I have to figure out what to do with this information. Maybe I should check to see which Old Mill they’re talking about before I report it?
But no matter what, I have to get out of here first. I almost keel over when I catch sight of Jessi coming my way. The very last thing on my mind is Sheriff Wilder and whether or not he’s called me.