The Butterfly Effect (Boggy Creek Valley 1)

“Is that a bookstore?” I asked.

Willa pulled up a little until we were at the building across Maple Street on the corner. “Yes! Kyle’s sister owns it.”

“Greer owns it?” I asked in a voice that came across as more excited than surprised.

“Um, yeah. She does.”

Shit. The last thing I wanted was for Willa to think I had any feelings toward Greer. I had taken her to homecoming and prom our senior year, but we’d been nothing more than friends. Of course, everyone thought it was a friends-with-benefits sort of deal, and apparently so did Willa.

“Good for her. I remember she used to like to read a lot,” I said, not sure what else to say. “Looks nice from what I can see with it being dark out.”

“It’s super cute; she’s done a great job with it. In case you were wondering, she’s still single.”

I turned my head and stared at Willa as she looked over her shoulder and pulled the car back onto the street. “I wasn’t wondering. At all,” I stated.

Her fingers flexed as she adjusted her grip on the steering wheel.

I smiled and glanced back out the window. Was that a hint of jealousy? “Everyone thought there was something between us, but there never was. Greer and I were friends, that was it. Nothing more.”

I wanted to see Willa’s expression at that bit of news, but instead, I kept my gaze out the window. I wouldn’t be able to see it anyway in the dark.

Willa turned off Main Street and headed down Chestnut Street. “I’m guessing you’re staying at your folks’ house?” she asked.

“You would guess right.”

She cleared her throat and glanced over at me.

I smiled. “Just say what you want to say, Willa.”

“Well, uh, I wasn’t really tired, and Ben is staying at my sister’s house tonight. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come back to my house and maybe we could catch up. Talk. Hang out…or whatever.”

The angel on my shoulder told me to tell her no and go home. The devil was screaming for me not to be stupid and take her up on going to her place. I must have taken too long to answer, because she let out a nervous laugh.

“Stupid idea, I’m sorry.”

“How about you take me home, and you come and hang out with me for a bit?”

She stopped at a stop sign and met my gaze. I could practically read her mind. On second thought, I didn’t have to read her mind; her eyes were saying I could simply stay at her place for the night.

Yeah, as much as I wanted that, I wasn’t going to do it. She’d just gotten a divorce earlier that day, and although I was a selfish bastard, I was also aware of who this was.

Willa.

I’d never want to hurt her. Ever. She needed to be sure this was something she wanted.

I tilted my head as I watched her mull it over. “If you’re worried about my mom, she’s in Boston with Granddad visiting relatives.”

“No. I mean, no, I wasn’t worried. Why would I be worried?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but you’re acting a little strange, Willa.”

She blinked and seemed to snap out of whatever daze she was in. Then she faced forward. “Your house it is.”

Willa

What are you doing? What. Are. You. Doing?

A rush of nerves hit my stomach as I tried to figure out how in the hell to get out of this hole I had dug for myself. I might as well have just come out and told him I was after a mindless night of sex. No, not mindless. I couldn’t imagine sex with Aiden O’Hara being mindless.

The next five minutes passed by in a comfortable silence as Aiden stared out the window. He tapped his hand against the side of his leg in what was either boredom or a nervous habit. Every now and then he rubbed his knee as if it ached.

I finally broke the silence. “Did Rose and Carl know you were coming back home?”

Aiden turned his head, and I could feel his warm gaze on me. “No. I didn’t tell anyone I didn’t reenlist.”

“Does it hurt, your knee?” I asked as I looked over at him. He was still staring at me, but when our eyes met, he focused on the front windshield instead.

“Not really.”

I smiled and turned left on Poplar Street. Aiden’s family didn’t live far from the main part of Boggy Creek. Less than ten minutes.

“Liar,” I replied. I drove a half mile down Poplar Street and then pulled into the driveway of the house Aiden had grown up in. It sat on five acres of rolling land. It was a beautiful piece of property that had been passed down through generations of O’Haras. Immigrants from Ireland, they had made their way from New York all the way up to New Hampshire. The piece of land that the family house was on was once much larger, but over the years it had been sold off to develop other residential homes, all built by O’Hara Construction.