3
EVERLY
I was flustered the rest of the night after running into Rowan. No matter how much I tried to justify it as a response to being reminded of the accident, I knew it wasn’t that. The man unnerved me . Not in a scary way, though. Something about him intrigued me.
I spent the night tossing and turning, because every time I closed my eyes, I saw his hazel gaze appraising me. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep very well. Which won’t go over well today, since I have to meet my parents for lunch.
I pull on a black maxi dress and look at myself in the mirror. I run my hand over my belly and sigh. I know that my mother will make a comment about what I’m wearing, but it’s too hot to cover up today, no matter how miserable it’s going to make my time with my parents.
I slip on a pair of sandals and walk out of my closet, grabbing my purse and making my way through the house and to my garage.
The heat of the day hits me when I open the garage door.
The heat in the south tends to smack you in the face during the summer.
I know I’ll be sweating in a minute, which is why I chose to wear black today . No sweat stains.
I climb into my vehicle and blast the air conditioner before pulling out of my garage and heading towards Charolette.
My mom insisted that I come to them because she doesn’t like how small Silver Springs is.
My mind wanders as I make the drive. I think about the last time I drove to Charolette and what happened when we came home, but I don’t let myself think about that for long because I can’t. I shake my head and stare ahead.
By the time I make it to the Italian restaurant, I’m actually a little cold from the air conditioner, but that stops the second I step out of my vehicle.
The heat slaps me in the face, and I groan as I shut my door and walk toward the entrance.
I was never a fan of the heat before, but being pregnant in it is a special kind of hell.
The metal door sticks as I pull it, making me sigh. I yank harder and the door finally opens. I walk inside and up to the hostess.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” she greets me with a smile. “How can I help you?”
I muster a smile in return. “Hi, I think my party is already here. The last name is Kincaid.”
She looks down at her tablet and then smiles back up at me. “Yes, they’re here. Follow me.”
She leads me into the busy restaurant and to a booth in the back where my parents are already seated. My dad’s face breaks into a smile when he sees me, my mother doesn’t even look in my direction until I’m standing right beside their table.
“Hey, sweetheart,” my dad greets me as he stands to give me a hug. “How are you doing?”
“Hey dad,” I mumble into his shoulder. “I’m doing okay.”
My mom doesn’t bother to move from her spot in the booth, so my dad retakes his seat. I slide onto the bench across them, sucking in a little bit so my belly doesn’t hit the table. My dad notices and slides the table closer to them, making my mom grumble in protest.
“That dress is a little snug, don’t you think, sweetheart?” My mom asks when I finally get situated.
My dad’s brow furrows beside her. He’s about to say something when I speak. “Well, it’s just about the only thing I feel comfortable wearing with how hot it is right now.”
“Hmm,” she hums.
“Hi y’all, my name is Kennedy, and I’ll be your server today. What can I get y’all to drink?” Our waitress interrupts our hostility.
We all order waters and sit in relative silence until the waitress takes our food order and leaves us be for a bit.
“So, when are you going to move back to Charolette?” My mom asks.
My eyebrows raise. “Why would I move back to Charlotte?”
“Why would you stay in that redneck little town?” She asks snidely.
“Silver Springs isn’t redneck,” I mutter. “And I’ll stay there because that’s where my home is and my job.”
“But what do you really have there? Not Travis.”
I clench my teeth as I look down at my engagement ring, sliding it around my finger to stop myself from flipping out on her. Who makes a comment like that?
“She’s made a life for herself there,” my dad speaks up. “We can’t expect her to just leave it all behind.”
“I suppose not,” mom mutters. “But what are you doing to do when the baby comes and you have no one to help you?”
I don’t have a chance to respond before the waitress comes back with our food. My dad changes the subject as we eat, and my mom fills me in on all the gossip from Charlotte. I listen but don’t contribute much to the conversation, which my dad notices. He shoots me an apologetic glance.
“So, do you have the nursery ready to go?” Mom asks as she wipes her mouth with her napkin and puts it on her plate.
I sit back and run a hand over my belly. “Uh, no. I don’t.”
“You don’t have the nursery ready? Christ, Everly, do I have to do everything for you?”
“What does that even mean?”
She sighs. “It means that I don’t think you’re going to take good enough care of my grandchild.”
“Laura!” My dad barks out.
She waves him off. “No, Edward. She needs to hear this. If you don’t step it up, I’ll do whatever I have to do to get custody of your child.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “What is wrong with you?” I rasp before I climb out of the booth and rush through the restaurant.
Who the hell does my mother think she is? She can’t just take my baby away because she’s not happy that I won’t move back to Charlotte or I don’t have the nursery ready yet. Can she?
My mind doesn’t even register the restaurant full of people around me or the parking lot as I rush to my vehicle. I climb inside and sit there for a moment, staring off into space.
I can’t believe my mom would threaten to take my child from me. I never would have thought that my mom would think that little of me. Okay, she’s made belittling comments and not been the most loving parent, but still.
The heat inside my vehicle finally registers with me, so I shake my head and start the engine, turning the air on full force again. When I look toward my gear shift, I notice a piece of paper under my windshield wipers.
I furrow my brow because you always hear about how you’re not supposed to get out of your vehicle to grab papers off your windshield, something about being targeted by kidnappers. But let’s be real, who is trying to kidnap my eight-month pregnant self? No one.
I look around the parking lot and only catch sight of cars, so I gingerly slip from the vehicle and grab the piece of paper, sliding back into my seat and locking the doors before I look at the crumpled piece of paper in my hands, smoothing it out so it’s legible.
YOU WILL PAY FOR HIS SINS.
I gasp and look around the parking lot again, thinking I’ll find whoever wrote this note staring at me, but I find no one. I toss the note into the passenger’s seat and clip my seatbelt before barreling out of the parking lot and back toward Silver Springs.
Who would leave a note on my SUV like that? Whose sins are they talking about? Travis’? He’s the only man who was in my life. My mind immediately goes back to the night of the crash. Travis knew that something was about to happen. He warned me. He was scared. Is this warning from the same people?
I don’t even remember my drive home. I just remember rushing inside and locking the door behind me. I go through the entire house checking that all the windows and doors are locked and then I sink onto my couch. What the hell is going on in my life?