Chapter 2
Beau
She looked like she was ready to bolt the second I slowed the truck.
Tense posture, short black hair, blue eyes darting every which way, arms crossed like armor. This was a woman waiting for things go wrong—half-daring them to, like she could smack down anyone who challenged her with words alone.
I figured she might just be right about that.
Girl had a seriously barbed tongue.
She didn’t see me watching her through the windshield as I put the truck in park and stepped out to hook the tow.
Nah…she was too busy pretending not to notice the people around her, too busy calculating how far she was from the highway, or maybe civilization in general.
I got it; towns in this part of the country could be scary.
Sometimes, they were run by folks like the Remnant Fellowship.
But here…it was different.
I didn’t know how to convince her of that, but I wanted to assure her she was safe until she could get out of town.
Probably in a different car, though I didn’t mention that.
I crouched by the front of her car, hands moving on instinct—hook, latch, strap, check. I’d done this a thousand times. For neighbors, tourists, stranded college kids with glitter bumper stickers and vape pens. But I’d never had someone watch me like she did.
Like I might bite.
She didn’t even flinch when I knelt near her tire. Didn’t move. Just stood there in scuffed up sneakers, mouth set in a line, jaw locked like she was chewing on a warning she’d given herself.
Don’t trust anyone. Don’t owe anyone. Don’t stay.
Most people, when their car gives out and someone shows up to help, they start loosening at the edges. You can feel the sigh come out of them, feel the moment they stop trying to fix it alone. That didn’t happen here.
She wasn’t loosening. She was coiling tighter.
I stood, brushing gravel from my hands. “You ridin’ with me?”
Her eyes snapped to mine—bright and blue and pissed. “Do I have a choice?”
“Always.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, opening her mouth for further interrogation, but I gestured toward the diner.
“I’m not tryin’ to make you uncomfortable,” I offered. “My sister-in-law could drive you, or my friend Del…”
I trailed off. Maybe not Delilah; I didn’t want her putting any ideas in Noelle’s head about me needing to be married off.
“Or my friend June,” I said instead, then looked back at the diner window to point. Of course, my whole family was watching—and Delilah wiggled her fingers at Noelle with a downright sinister smile.
Noelle didn’t wave back, though it did seem to set her just a little bit at ease. Even if Delilah had a touch of evil about her, she didn’t look like some kind of smalltown housewife.
“Fine,” Noelle said.
Then she stalked toward the passenger side of my truck like she was the one doing me a favor.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, watching Noelle out of the corner of my eye. She was picking at the dog hair covering the passenger seat, but she didn’t look grossed out or anything…more skeptical, like I’d placed the dog hair there on purpose to give her a false sense of security.
“You good?” I asked.
She wrapped her arms around herself fast. “Peachy.”
“Right,” I chuckled as we pulled out of the parking lot. “Because we’re in Georgia.”
She didn’t laugh—didn’t even crack a smile—just kept her eyes fixed out the window, arms locked tight.
We rolled past a row of camper vans and dusty pickup trucks, most of them plastered with bumper stickers: I BELIEVE, SQUATCHWATCH 2024, one that just said GATOR SEX IS LEGAL IN FLORIDA with no further context.
She didn’t comment on any of it, which only raised more questions.
In fact…she didn’t seem remotely surprised by any of this.
Anyone else? They would have been saying it was weird.
She was just…annoyed.
“So what brings you to Willow Grove?” I asked as we rolled down the street. “Don’t seem like your kinda place.”
“You get that from the sarcasm or the rage?”
“Bit of both.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m supposed to be in Atlanta for a con. I run a podcast—ended up on a detour I didn’t mean to take.”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “That tends to happen around here.”
“What does that mean?”
I shrugged. “Some people say it’s magic. I think it’s more likely the shitty cell service.”
She didn’t laugh at that, either. Just stared at me like she couldn’t decide whether I was trying to flirt or recruit her into a cult.
“Magic, huh?” she said finally. “What kind? Leylines and faerie circles, or the kind that ends with someone speaking in tongues and pulling a snake out of their pants?”
I barked a short laugh. “Around here? Little of both.”
That got me another sharp glance, but this one wasn’t suspicious—it was assessing.
I didn’t clarify. The speaking in tongues and pulling a snake out was a bit too on the nose.
We crested the hill, the trees giving way to the squat brick building that had been in my family since my dad first started tinkering with engines out of a shed.
The Ward Family Auto sign looked more faded than usual in the twilight.
The motion light buzzed overhead, casting long shadows over the gravel lot and catching on the creeping ivy that always threatened to swallow the south wall.
I put the truck in park and climbed out, catching sight of Milo having a goddamn meltdown at the front door.
There was a little window at about eye level, and I kept seeing his fluffy ears as he tried to leap up to see us.
The door was scratched to shit already; it was pointless trying to keep him contained.
“You okay with dogs?” I asked.
Noelle was getting out of the truck, heaving a deep sigh. “More than okay,” she said. “I actually tend to like them better than people.”
Milo must’ve heard her voice, because the second she closed the door behind her, he lost his damn mind.
I didn’t even make it halfway to the entrance before the door popped open—he must’ve nudged the latch just right—and out he came, barreling across the gravel like he was being reunited with a long-lost soulmate.
“Jesus!” Noelle yelped, taking one step back as he launched himself at her like a golden-furred cannonball.
To her credit, she didn’t scream or flinch—just staggered a bit under his weight, braced one hand against the side mirror of the tow truck, and let him lick her face like it was part of a ritual.
Milo was whining, tail slapping against her thighs, all wriggling excitement and total lack of dignity.
“Good thing you’re good with dogs,” I chuckled. “Sorry about that.”
“You should really do better preparing people,” Noelle said—but she was laughing, the first time I’d even seen her crack a smile. “You asked if I was okay with dogs, not if I was strong enough to withstand a ninety-pound love bomb.”
“He’s all excitement and no manners,” I said, watching Milo bury his face against her hip like he was trying to crawl inside her jacket. “But he’s a great tour guide if you want to step inside. I think there’s still some coffee in the thermos, and folks say it’s the best in town.”
“Didn’t I see a coffee shop on Main Street?” she asked.
I grinned. “Yup.”
“Well…” she paused, going to cross her arms again only for Milo to nudge her hand as if personally offended that she wasn’t petting him. “I think I’d prefer to stay out here for now.”
I shrugged. “You can poke around if you want. Make sure I’m not hiding anything under the oil rags.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered.
I popped her hood again, lifted the latch, and leaned in. The engine hissed faintly in the cooling air.
Yeah…this was not looking good.
But I wanted to make sure and give it a fighting chance before I called it.
“So,” I said as I worked. “A podcast…?”
“Yeah, it’s like radio but—”
“I know what a podcast is,” I laughed. “Internet’s not great out here, but we ain’t livin’ in 1950 like some country folk.”
She snorted at that. “Good to know.”
“I’ve listened to a few—some religiously,” I said, glancing up. “Mostly true crime. Fixing cars pairs well with murder.”
Noelle tilted her head. “And what does that say about you?”
“That I’ve got good taste and a lot of brake pads to clean.”
That earned a full laugh, short and surprised, like it slipped past her defenses before she could stop it. Milo looked up at the sound, tail thumping a few times in approval.
I ducked back under the hood before I smiled too wide.
“So what’s your show called?” I asked, voice muffled behind the engine block.
She hesitated. “Whispers in the Dark.”
“Spooky.”
“Debunk-y,” she corrected. “It’s paranormal content, but the skeptical kind. We go to haunted places, cryptid festivals, cult towns—do interviews, collect folklore, explain the science behind why your farmhouse isn’t actually possessed.”
“And yet,” I said, poking at a warped hose with my wrench, “you act like stepping foot in a small town is scarier than any ghost story.”
She hummed. “I uh…I tend to stay in the city and hold down the fort. My co-host does the interviews and site visits; I was going to meet him in Atlanta.”
“Boyfriend?”
I blurted the word out without even thinking about it—then ducked my head and made sure not to look beyond the hood. But Noelle just let out a short laugh.
“Just a co-host,” she said. “He likes boys.”
I could tell she was testing the waters, seeing how I would react. I wasn’t sure how to react, exactly—not because I had any problem with that, but because I absolutely didn’t want her to know I was trying to find out if she was single.
“Oh,” I said. “Good for him.”
I reached for the rag in my pocket and wiped grease from my hands, giving the engine one more glance. The radiator was cracked. The hose looked like it had gone a few rounds with a bear. If she made it another ten miles in that car, it was a miracle.
I straightened up and finally looked at her.