CHAPTER 4 johnnie NOW
johnnie
NOW
There it is.
Staring back at me, the universe couldn’t possibly yell any louder if it tried.
Behind the large oak desk in front of me, a cork board hangs on the wall, cluttered with neatly pinned business cards. Plumbers, florists, caterers, the kind of local services small towns rely on. My eyes skim over them without meaning to.
Until they stop.
Combs Landscaping.
The card sits front and center like it owns the board, bold blue lettering—three Cs—against white cardstock.
Taunting me.
As I sit here listening to the funeral director talk about cremation options, urn styles, and service packages, none of it is actually registering. His voice fades in and out like the static of a radio station you can’t quite tune.
I’m stuck inside my own head while the rest of the world moves in fast, blurred circles around me.
Nan is gone.
My parents were too busy to come home and handle the arrangements with me. Well, my dad was too busy with work and my mother refuses to go anywhere without him.
So that leaves me.
Back here.
The place I left my heart so long ago.
I flew into Columbus at sunrise and drove straight here in a rental that smells faintly of stale coffee and cheap air freshener. I barely remember the drive into town. The familiar roads passed in a haze of exhaustion and dread.
My teeth feel furry.
My head is too heavy for my neck to support.
My contacts scrape against my eyes like sandpaper every time I blink.
I need a shower.
A toothbrush.
A bed.
Nan is gone.
And I’m back in Laken after a decade of being away.
Ten years since I swore I’d never come back to this town again.
At any moment I could run into the ghosts of my past.
“Miss Hardin, is there anything else I can do for you? All the paperwork is in this folder.” The funeral director gently slides a thick manila folder across the polished desk toward me. “Call me anytime, and we’ll start whatever arrangements you decide on. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
My throat tightens.
Nan. Is. Gone.
Sorry for your loss.
Those words hold no real weight. This man works in a funeral home. He makes a living off other people’s grief, tears, and crippling sadness. I’m sure the phrase rolls off his tongue as easily as a police officer’s rehearsed Miranda rights, automatic and empty.
“No, thank you,” I manage, my voice thinner than I’d like. “After I’ve had more time to consider options, we can move forward…but everything will be very low-key.”
Nan wouldn’t want a fuss.
“Of course, ma’am. Take your time. We’re here if you need anything.” He rises from his chair and moves toward a pair of ancient French doors, opening them with a quiet creak before gesturing for me to follow.
The foyer of the funeral home is just as somber as the office with dark wood floors worn smooth with time, heavy burgundy wallpaper, the faint scent of lilies and furniture polish in the air.
I don’t like the feeling this place gives me. It’s not creepy in an Addams Family kind of way. There’s no dramatic thunder or cobwebs hanging from chandeliers.
But death and despair cling to every surface all the same. It’s in the stillness. In the quiet. In the way the air itself feels heavier when you breathe it in.
A wave of nausea rolls through my stomach. The chiming of a grandfather clock echoes off the walls, startling me.
But not nearly as much as what I see when I step out onto the wide Victorian porch.
Parked across the street—a truck. An old white Chevy Silverado 4x4.
The screen door slams shut behind me with a sharp thwack, but it barely registers.
Because the driver’s side door of that truck just opened, and the man climbing out of it steals every ounce of air occupying my lungs.
Each fiber of my body goes still as I stare across the street at someone who looks an awful lot like an echo of my past—the part of my soul that still lingers in this town.
This feels like an out-of-body experience. I’m aware of the pressure beneath my feet as I step down the porch stairs one by one, but it doesn’t feel like I’m the one controlling my movements. My eyes stay locked on his.
Eyes I haven’t seen in ten years. Eyes that have haunted my dreams for a decade. The distance between us closes without my permission.
And then suddenly…
I’m standing toe to toe with the love of my life.
Only I’m certain I’m not the love of his.
Not anymore.