Chapter One
Blake Bennet had been to many crime scenes over the last ten years or so.
It had come with the territory of being law enforcement, never mind the fact that she’d been a sheriff for many of those years.
But her reign with a badge had ended and, she thought, with it any sense of being amid the chaotic aftermath of someone’s life again.
Boy had she been wrong.
Currently her living room would have given the crime scene unit a run for their money.
“Blake! We’re going to be late.” A woman, brightly dressed but frowning severely, hurried into the room with bangles clanking and a baby on her hip squirming.
In the last six months of sharing a home with her stepmother, Blake was still getting used to her jack-in-the-box sudden appearances around their house.
That went double for the toddler and baby who had managed to turn the room into a disaster movie within the blink of an eye.
“I can’t find the keys,” Blake yelled right back. “And unless you’ve learned how to fly in the last ten minutes, we need those to get going.”
Lola had not in fact learned how to fly in the last ten minutes.
She balanced Bruce on her hip and started throwing couch cushions and blankets around while Blake went back to her grid patterned search.
Once she had been searching for a man buried alive and yet, somehow, the pressure she felt now was really grating.
It didn’t help that she already knew what would happen when they got to the school gym.
Everyone in Seven Roads would look at her.
The absent aunt come back home to take on the job title of inexperienced mother. Add in the fact that she was single, technically unemployed and living under the same roof with the stepmother she had barely known before coming back, and Blake was a walking, talking tabloid story for the town.
The gutsy Seven Roads locals would talk to her—the rest would talk in whispers.
It was, at best, annoying. At worst, it just plain hurt.
“Blake!” Lola exclaimed, pulling her attention with a start. She was pointing across the room to the one calm thing among the chaos. “Clem has them in her hand!”
Clementine Bennet was a quiet four. While her baby brother and her stepgrandma were expressive creatures, Clem was an observer first, a toddler second.
Blake was reminded of the demeanor of the detectives she had worked with during her tenure in law enforcement.
Watch people, take in the details and then communicate when necessary, if at all.
“Good girl, Clem,” Blake said, relief washing over her. “Now let’s get moving!”
That relief lasted for the time it took to get from the house to the Seven Roads High School’s main gym.
Since the town had limited space, any and every big event had been held in the same building since even before Blake had been a student there.
Now in her thirties, it felt odd enough to park in the same lot she had when she was sixteen.
It was a sentiment that she didn’t have the luxury to let linger too long.
The second she had Clem out of her car seat, the child decided to become a world-class soccer player. Without a ball she made do with her shoes. One hit the floorboard, the other soared over Blake’s shoulder like she had it headed straight for the game-winning goal.
“Forget the shoe,” Lola said, hustling around. “Here, you take Bruce, I’ll get Clem backstage, and you get us a seat. I already let Janie know we’re heading in, so she’s waiting at the door.”
Blake was used to giving orders, but she had been finding that since moving back to her hometown, listening to Lola had become second nature.
So she did as she was told. They switched kids and both sprinted off in different directions.
Bruce squealed in delight at the rush. Blake just hoped there were seats available since they were downright late.
The gym lobby had a handmade banner that read Brightwell Daycare: What We Learned stretched over the three sets of double doors. Only two people were inside the lobby, but neither paid attention to Blake as she hurried to the doors. She peered through the glass and let out a breath.
The stage was empty.
The show hadn’t started.
They still had time to grab some seats and maybe avoid people even noticing she was there.
She put her free hand on the door, ready to go inside, when that hope was dashed.
“Blake Bennet?”
One of the two other people in the lobby was now standing at her side. It had been years since Blake had been back to Seven Roads for any real length of time, and yet she recognized the woman instantly.
Corrie Daniels.
Blake would have preferred being trapped in an interrogation room with a feral tiger than talk with Corrie “Gossip Queen” Daniels.
But since that wasn’t an option, Blake pulled her fake smile on tight.
“Hey there, Corrie. It’s been a while.”
“It has!” she exclaimed before letting out a trill of unnecessary laughter. She motioned to the front doors behind them. “I had to do a double take when I saw you. I mean, I heard you were back, but I guess seeing is believing, you know?”
Her gaze fell to Bruce.
Blake knew where this was going, and she wanted to nip it in the bud.
She made sure her smile stayed on and did her own little laugh.
“Actually, do you mind if we catch up later?” Blake asked. “Clem is in the program and we’re running a bit late, so I still need to get some seats.”
Corrie’s entire expression fell into one of immense pity.
Blake knew the look well by now. She had been getting it since her sister Beth’s funeral.
Never mind when word had gotten out that Blake would be raising her children.
That pity seemed to split between the children losing their mother, Beth losing her life and Blake stumbling into a new reality she had never prepared for.
Blake had to hand it to Corrie though. While a lot of people tried to pretend that life had gone exactly the way they had planned it to, Corrie didn’t even bother putting on airs. Why walk on eggshells when you only care about eating the omelet?
She reached out and patted Blake’s shoulder.
“You come see me when you have the time,” she cooed. “I know all of this must be so hard on you. I don’t even know if I could do it. Never mind by myself. Poor thing.”
Fake words. Fake concern. Fake pity.
Blake despised it.
Blake felt the strength behind her smile waver.
Anger was starting to claw its way up instead.
Thankfully, her personal jack-in-the-box popped up just in time.
“I suggest we save the chatter for later,” Lola said, stopping at Blake’s side. She nodded to Corrie. “You better go on in and find your seat. We’ll be in right on after.”
Corrie’s mask of sympathy didn’t slip, but she conceded with a nod. The hand already on Blake’s shoulder squeezed once.
“Hang in there,” she said. Then she did what Corrie did best. The perfect parting shot, the multitooled weapon of the South. “Bless your heart.”
Blake’s hand clenched into a fist at her side, but Corrie was already through the doors. She expected Lola to follow, but instead the older woman hung back.
It wasn’t for support.
Lola turned Blake around to face her.
“I know you’re probably getting near overwhelmed today, but I have to tell you something you’re not going to like.” Her expression softened. Blake couldn’t help but brace herself.
Then Lola sighed out big.
“Bruce spit up.”
Together they looked down at Blake’s chest. Sure enough from her shoulder, down the yellow print on her dress, was baby Bruce spit up. She must have been more tired than she original thought. She hadn’t even felt it.
“The one time I wear a dress,” Blake breathed out.
Lola reached out for Bruce and laughed.
“The bathroom is around the corner. Hurry up and clean that so you’re not smelling it the whole time. I’ll get us seats.”
So Lola took Bruce, and Blake was off and speed-walking to the same bathroom she had used countless times as a teen. She went to the task at hand with the same urgency, thinking about how she should have packed the towel parents used in this sort of situation.
She pictured it sitting on the dining room table.
Blake sighed again.
Her gaze shifted up to her reflection in the mirror.
Before six months ago she had always styled her hair into one long braid. Part habit, part utility. One single braid that always rested against her back. Contained. In order. Familiar.
Now her hair was down and short, a choice she had made to save time. To save energy.
But seeing herself now, seeing the bags under her eyes and the frown across her lips, the question that often bothered her came right on back.
If she couldn’t take care of something simple like her hair, how could she take care of two little humans?
The ache in her chest grew cold.
It started to spread.
Blake shook her head.
“Now’s not the time,” she told herself. She straightened her dress and eyed the spot where the spit-up had been. She’d worn the wrong color of dress. The water stain was more than noticeable.
It made her grumble as she left the bathroom and hurried back to the lobby doors. Logically, she knew that no one would really care about it. That it wasn’t a big deal. Yet, she hesitated before going inside.
Blake knew that it wasn’t about the stain.
It was about the people.
And that made her feel shame.
She had dealt with all kinds of life-and-death situations, and here she was worried about gossip from people she had known all of her life.
On reflex her hand clenched again.
It was only by the grace of luck that she didn’t use her fist when a man came up at her side and startled her.
“Excuse me.”
The voice was a deep, deep baritone. A sound that almost felt like it was anchoring her to the spot. Which seemed to match perfectly with the man it had come from.