Famous in a Small Town - Page 34

Mom and Dad had gifted me security screens when I bought the place. They were the reinforced wire ones that couldn’t be kicked in or cut with a knife. Therefore, opening the windows shouldn’t be a big deal. But of course it was, because I had already broken out in a cold sweat at just the thought. Not good. A spare can of mace sat in my bedside drawer. My cell was nearby if I needed to call for help. I only had to silence the fear and negativity inside my head. Much easier said than done.

“You can do this,” I said to myself in an almost calm voice. “Also, you need to get your ass back to therapy if you’re serious about dealing with this shit.”

Being right could be such a bitch. I was just the worst sometimes.

I breathed in slowly through my nose and out through my mouth. Then I wiggled my fingers and toes and counted backwards from one hundred. All great distractions and much better than having a meltdown.

“Okay,” I said finally.

Slow and steady, I turned the key in the lock and pushed the window open. Cool air rushed in, which was gratifying as fuck. I took a step back and waited for disaster to occur. For a monster to leap out at me or whatever.

Then I heard something. A truly amazing something. Along with the usual sounds of the distant river and the woods at night came the soft strains of a guitar. Soon it was accompanied by a familiar voice. I didn’t recognize the song, but he had said he was working on new music. Whatever it was, it was beautiful.

With a lot less fuss, I unlocked and opened the second bedroom window. The one facing his house. Curiosity could occasionally beat panic, apparently. This window was much better. I could hear the notes of the guitar more clearly, the hum and growl of his voice. And it all soothed me no end. I lay down on my bed in the dark and listened.

Since our disastrous, dramatic kiss in the rain two days ago, there’d been nothing but silence. Which hurt. It should be harder to ghost a neighbor. But here we were. There were still lots of good things in my life. Such as friends and family, box mac and cheese with truffle oil, and a wonderful selection of romance novels waiting for me by the bed. I lived a full life. Just because he apparently no longer wanted to be a part of it didn’t mean I was going to fall apart or some such shit.

My neighbor might well have feelings for me. But there was nothing I could do about that. His grief would take as long as was necessary. He might never be ready or interested in moving on. And as his friend, or former friend as the case may be, respecting his decision and giving him the space he wanted was the right thing to do. At least this way, with the windows open, I could still hear him. Not just a recording, but the real him. Guess it was better than nothing.

A surprising number of people were on Main Street on Wednesday morning. Lots of trucks, too. It was quite possibly the first traffic jam in the history of Wildwood. Signs on the various vehicles read plumber, builder, electrician, and so on. And they were walking in and out of all the empty buildings, along with the neglected theater and diner. Something was most definitely afoot.

Which was good. I could do with something to distract me from the absence of a certain someone.

“What the hell?” I mumbled as Linda joined me on the sidewalk.

“I have no idea,” she said with no small amount of wonder. “Why don’t you go and ask?”

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my black waist apron. It complemented my blue jeans and white tank and pale blue Chucks just fine. While the winged eyeliner might be a little fancy for work, I did not care. I was feeling myself. It was all good. And one of these days I was going to attempt space buns. Why should Josh be the only person in these parts who had fun with his hair?

“Be sure to tell them the first coffee is half price,” said Linda. “And that we have fresh doughnuts and pastries daily.”

“Did Mayor Carmichael say anything about this?”

“He’s actually been absent from church the last few Sundays. Something about his hip playing up,” she said. “But it’s not as if he has any real interest in what’s happening. The only reason he’s still mayor is no one can be bothered running against him and he likes having the title.”

“This is true.”

She gave me a nudge. “Go and get the gossip, Ani. I’ve got the store.”

Tags: Kylie Scott Romance
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