“Already did.” My feet are heavy as they trudge across the kitchen. Ignoring Peck’s curious gaze, I take my time in pulling out a chair and getting situated across from him. “Do you know Navie Barnes?”
“That would be a negative.”
“She starts tomorrow.”
Peck wipes his hands down the front of his pants. “Are we feelin’ good about this?”
“I’m not feeling good about jack shit.” I hang my head. “I knew Nora would quit. She kept saying she wasn’t going back to school, but I knew she would and then would feel terrible about having to quit at the last minute. So I hired Navie a couple of weeks ago to start tomorrow.”
When I lift my head, Peck is grinning.
“What?” I ask.
“Just glad you have it figured out. That’s all.”
“One thing out of a million.”
His grin pulls wider. “What else you got goin’ on?”
I stand and turn to face the window over the sink. It’s so dark out I can’t see a damn thing except for the security light at the cemetery a ways down. Just as I’m about to find a comfortable mental distance between myself and this mess with Hadley, Peck moves. It reminds me there is no ignoring it. At least, not for now.
“Well,” I say, referring to his question. “I have Spencer Eubanks coming by this week.”
“Over that building on Ash Street?”
“Yeah.” I turn to look at him. “He’s not really hyped on letting me do a land contract on the place. Probably for the same reason the bank wasn’t either.”
“You know what? That’s bullshit. You’re trying to do something good for this town.”
“I guess this is why small towns fall apart. A guy like me—not on the town board, not a commissioner, no one fancy—can’t be trusted.”
Peck laughs. “I’d trust you over any of those guys all day, every day.” He laces his fingers together and rests his forearms on his knees. “Ready to talk about Hadley?”
“What?” I ask, my head spinning. “That’s some whiplash.”
“I feel like I warmed you up some. Did a little foreplay. Too soon?”
“If that whole thing was your idea of foreplay, this explains why Molly doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
He raises up, his hands pressed on his heart. “That wounds me.”
“Shut up.” I laugh.
Peck drops his hand and laughs too. “Hadley looks good, Mach. Funny as hell. You should’ve seen your face when she said that line about the panties—”
“Thin ice, Peck.” I have to turn away. It doesn’t seem right to face him when memories of Hadley in her panties are streaming through my mind. The way her narrow hips round around to her ass and the way—
“Dude, I don’t even want you to turn around. I get it.” He cackles. “I gotta go. I’ll leave you here to wonder what she’s doing tonight.”
“Oh, I know what she’s doing tonight.”
“What?”
“She’s at Cross’s house.”
“For now.” Peck heads for the door. “Who knows what she might do later?”
“You know something, Peck?” I shout after him. He’s screwing with me. I’m ninety-percent sure. But that leaves ten percent, and that’s ten too many. “Peck!”
“No, I don’t know anything.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
I scurry to the doorway just in time to see him at the front door. He looks over his shoulder with his hand on the knob.
It’s a struggle not to grab him by the back of the neck and shake him a little until I’m sure he’s being honest. “If you know something, I want to know.”
“You’ll just go apeshit,” he says.
“You want to see apeshit? Watch what happens when I find you tomorrow after I hear about it, and make no mistake, I will hear about it.”
Peck slides his hat around, his blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t know a damn thing other than you’re too easy to wind up.”
I lunge forward, but he’s out the door before I get too far.
His truck starts, the engine rumbling from all the tinkering he’s done to it at Crank. The sound gets louder before I hear his tires squeal, and the roar drifts off into the night. The only sound breaking the silence now is the whirl of the ceiling fan in the living room.
My back hits the cool drywall, and I rest my head against it too. My brain feels like a bunch of liquor bottles have been delivered and set around everywhere, nothing in their place. I bet I could stay up all night and not organize this mess.
Hadley’s golden eyes flicker as soon as I close mine. Her pretty face smiles back at me. I fight to keep this vision of her and not let it denigrate to something more … realistic.
I bet I could stay up all night and imagine her sweet face. I bet I will too.
Six
Hadley
“Oh, Cross …”
I pull my pillow over my face, cupping the fabric against my ears, but it doesn’t block out Kallie’s moans. A quick peek from under the lavender lace trim shows me they’ve been at this for a good thirty-six minutes. The volume goes up and down, as does the thrashing of the headboard against the wall, while I hide my face again.
“Cross!” Kallie calls out from the other side of the wall.
I launch the pillow onto the floor. “I’m done.”
Ignoring the sounds of Cross trying to shush his girlfriend and Kallie’s incessant giggling, I slide on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. The headboard orchestra begins again as I reach for my bag and purse. I’m out the door as Cross takes over, repeating Kallie’s name.
The late-night air rustles against my skin. Fishing my keys out of my purse, I unlock the car door and toss my things in the back.
The neighborhood is dark and quiet as I climb in the driver’s seat. Only the streets are partially lit from the lights dotting the sidewalks every few hundred feet. I glance at the clock and wonder where the heck I’m going to go.
Grabbing my phone out of my bra, I find my friend Emily’s number.
Me:Hey. You up?
Her:Yup. What’s happening?
Me:You home?
Her:No. Be home tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your face!
Me:Shit. I’m in town early and was going to come by.
Her:Sorry! I’ll be home by noon, and we can have lunch.
Me:Sounds good.
“Guess I’ll be sleeping in the car,” I mutter, dropping my phone into the cup holder.
I back down the driveway. Like a sane person, I wait until I’m aimed down the road before turning on the headlights so I don’t shine them in anyone’s bedroom window.
With nowhere to go, I pitter through the neighborhood. Little houses are tucked in perfect little rows. Minivans are parked in more than a handful of driveways as I make my way into town.
I haven’t been out and about alone at this time of night in Linton in a long time. It’s calmer than I remember. No one is out driving the loop around town or tapping their brake lights as they pass each other as a small-town “hello” like we used to do. All the businesses are closed. I can’t even stop at Goodman’s for a tea because their lights are off too.
I drive along in silence, pondering how long Cross and Kallie might be able to maintain that kind of pace and if it’s safe to go back, when I make a turn onto Beecher Street. I ease up on the accelerator.
Like everywhere else in Linton, Crave is quiet. There isn’t a car on the street. No lights are on. There’s not even a person loitering by the back like they do sometimes after closing.
“Keep going,” I whisper. And I do … right to Doc Burns’s parking lot. My car pulls beneath a large pine tree at an angle perfect for checking out the back side of Crave.
My heartbeat quickens as I take in the stainless-steel door and large pot for plants that I suspect is filled with cigarette butts. Just to the right of that is an old wooden staircase with chipped white paint. A security light hangs haphazardly atop a tall pole and gives the area a muted yellow glow.
I pick up my phone and open the door.
“You’re an idiot,” I tell myself. Still, I keep moving forward.
My flip-flops smack against the pavement as I cross Beecher. A truck rumbles somewhere in the distance, but other than that, everything is perfectly still. Everything but the thrumming in my ears from my heart going wild.
I follow the train track that runs through town, over a side street, until I’m at the back of the bar. My breath billows in front of me in the cool night air.
Wishing I had a hoodie over the T-shirt, I gaze in the planter as I walk by. Sure enough, a million pounds of cigarette ash and ends float in dirty rainwater.
I make my way to the steps leading to the one-room apartment above Crave. The railing wobbles under my grip, and I wonder if it’s some veiled warning by the heavens not to keep going. Like the brainiac I am, I continue up the rickety steps.
A little window is positioned next to the door. The plaid curtains are split in the middle and I peer through. It’s pitch black inside.
My heart twists in my chest as I remember many nights here with Mach. In high school, when his uncle still owned Crave, we’d come up here and have poker nights with our friends. I made my first batch of cupcakes in the oven in there for Machlan’s birthday and spent so many afternoons curled up against him while he watched football.
As I turn to go back to my car, I imagine Kallie’s breathy moans. The sound is overshadowed by a set of tailpipes coming up the side street. I stand still, not moving a muscle, as I see a truck roll up to the curb and stop.
Peck jumps out. “What the hell are you doing, Had?”
“Hey! What are you doing out so late?”
“Going home. What are you up to?”
I glance over my shoulder and get an idea. “Come up here and give me some help.”
“Um, what exactly do you need help with?” He rocks back on his heels. “Why don’t you come on down from there?”