Sidecar Crush

Her lips parted, and she set her sandwich down. “Oh my god.”

“Scarlett found Callie’s sweater in an old trunk at Dad’s place.” I swallowed back the sick feeling creeping up my throat. “The police have been investigating again—went through his house. You stay in town long enough, you’ll hear people speculating.”

“Wow. That’s awful. Do you have any idea why the sweater would have been at your dad’s house?” She put up a hand, as if to stop me from answering. “I’m sorry, that was a rude question. Of course you don’t know why.”

“I don’t. It’s baffling, actually. I want to believe it’s a coincidence. That he wasn’t involved. It’s hard to say after all these years. And it’s certainly not something you want to think about your father.”

She offered a gentle smile, her eyes full of warmth. “No, of course not. I remember your dad, and I know he wasn’t always very nice. But I don’t think…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Whatever happened, hopefully they’ll find out the truth someday and everyone can have some peace.”

“Thanks. That’s my hope too.” I resisted the urge to reach over and squeeze her hand. I didn’t want to talk about my dad anymore. “How’s your mom these days?”

“She’s fine. Still lives in Jacksonville. She remarried not long after I graduated high school. His name’s Stan Michaels. He’s a nice guy—runs an insurance agency. I think they’re happy.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“She does,” she said with a smile. “She had to get used to me traveling all over the world when I started modeling. I don’t think she’s so worried about Bootleg Springs anymore.”

“That’s good.” I’d always thought her mom’s hysteria over Bootleg was sorely misplaced. It was a far sight safer than most places, even with Callie Kendall’s disappearance. People ’round here looked after each other. “What about you? Where do you live these days?”

“Los Angeles,” she said. “Actually, Kelvin just moved us into a new place. I haven’t even seen it yet. He took care of everything, but my stuff is all still in boxes. He got it while I was filming the show, and I’ve been traveling and living in hotels since then.”

She seemed all right with that arrangement, but something about it bothered me. “Sounds like you’re without any roots.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She took a bite of her sandwich, and I did the same. “Listen, Jameson, I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of keeping in touch.”

“No need for apologies. I didn’t do so well at it either.” Which was the truth. The way we’d drifted apart had probably been more my fault than hers. We could have kept up our friendship over email at least. But she’d gotten a boyfriend in Florida, and I’d started dating Cheyenne Hastings. I’d missed Leah Mae, but at the time it had seemed easier to just let it go. And once she’d started modeling, it had seemed like she’d moved into another world. One that was far too removed from my life in Bootleg Springs for us to ever be friends again.

“I suppose,” she said. “But I could have tried harder. It seemed like every year I meant to come visit, and every year something came up.”

“You’ve led quite the life,” I said. “Far fancier than anything going on around here.”

“It’s not always as fancy as it seems,” she said. There was that thing I’d seen in her eyes again. A dulling of her light. “It’s funny, but being here makes me feel like I lost touch with something. I’ve been so busy for so long, I forgot what it was like to slow down and just be.”

“Bootleg is good for that.”

“It really is.” She took a bite of her sandwich, then set it back down. “But what about you? I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

“I’m an artist,” I said with a shrug.

“Really?” she asked, her smile brightening her face. “You make a living with your art?”