“Yes, ma’am.”
“Name’s Patty. I own this place.” She cut the sandwich in half and wrapped it up. “You ever need to know anything about this town, I’m the person to come see. I know everything that goes on here.”
“Yeah?” I pulled out my wallet, ready to pay her. “That picture over there, the one by the kindergarten kid named Mila. Would that be Mila Masterson, by any chance?”
Her eyes lit up. “It would. I teach art once a week at the local elementary school. Keep all my favorite pictures right there. Lexa still has a few over there too, if you want to take a look.”
“How much for Mila’s picture?” I asked, ready to pay whatever number she came up with to have something of my Mila’s.
“Those aren’t for sale, son.” She bagged my food and handed it over. “No charge today. Consider it a ‘Welcome to Creswell Springs’ from me.”
“Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.” My gaze went back to the wall of pictures. “But I’m not going to take no for an answer. I want that picture. Name your price.”
◆◆◆
Licking spicy mustard off my thumb, I stepped back and admired Mila’s picture on the front wall of the shop. It was the only artwork I’d hung so far, but I couldn’t stop looking at it.
Finishing the last of my sandwich, I started to force myself to turn away when I saw someone walking up the sidewalk toward the front entrance. Pausing, I waited, figuring it was someone there to apply for the receptionist position.
A curvy woman in her early forties walked into the shop. Her hair was shoulder-length and a pretty brown, her eyes an even prettier blue. When she spotted me, she stopped in her tracks, her hand covering her mouth. “It is you,” she half whispered, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh my goodness. You’ve grown up so much.”
It was a day of people coming into my shop and confusing the hell out of me, it seemed. I stood there, frowning down at the woman, wondering what drug she was on.
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked, unsure if I should call an ambulance to take this crazy woman to the hospital or the cops. “Do you want some water or something sugary? I have some sports drinks in the back.”
A soft laugh filled the front of the shop as she crossed to me. “I know I probably seem like a lunatic to you, but I promise I’m not crazy.” Grasping my forearms, she looked up at me, and a few tears finally escaped her blue eyes. “The last time I saw you…” She sighed heavily, as if it pained her to remember. “You were just a toddler. But every time your brother would pull my hair, you would yell at him to stop and force him to release me.”
I stood very still as her gaze skimmed over me from head to toe. “You were a beast, even back then. Both of you were. But you were always the sweeter twin. Always.”
“Um…”
“My name is Felicity Hannigan. It was Bolton back then, but I’m married now. I was Emmie Armstrong’s nanny. I took care of Mia and Jagger for a long time. You and your brother as well at times. But when Mia…” More tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t need to finish for me to know what she was talking about. No one in my family could talk about the summer my cousin Mia was almost kidnapped without getting upset. “When she was taken…that first time, my family talked me into coming back.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her in a quiet voice. “But I don’t remember you.”
“Of course you don’t,” she scoffed. “You were only a baby. But believe me, I remember you.”
“Do you and Aunt Emmie keep in touch?” I couldn’t remember her ever talking about this woman, but that didn’t mean they were out of contact.
“Yes and no. We exchange Christmas cards every year and send a letter in which we tell each other what’s happened throughout the year with our kids, but we don’t call each other unless it’s an emergency. So far, thankfully, there has only been one emergency where Emmie has needed my help.” She grimaced as if in pain. “I understand the boys showed up here this morning?”
“You mean the guys in leather?” She nodded, her eyes filling with worry. “Yeah, we had a nice visit.”
“Oh, Lyric.” She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know why you chose Creswell Springs to set up your business, but there are a hundred—no, a thousand—other places you could have gone. Should have gone. Having someone connected to that time suddenly appear has rattled the boys. Especially Spider.”
“Spider?” I repeated. “The guy with the spider tattoo on his neck? Masterson?”
“Yes, that’s him.” Her eyes turned pleading. “Won’t you consider going somewhere else? New York, LA, Chicago? I saw your brother got picked up in the draft by Tennessee. Wouldn’t you rather be closer to him? Nashville is such a good city and—”
“I’m not leaving,” I interrupted. “Look, I don’t know what is going on or what happened during whatever time you’re talking about, but that has nothing to do with me. If your friends are nervous, that’s on them. I came here because this is where I want to be. Nothing and no one will make me leave.”
“But…”
I stepped away from her and walked to the door, opening it for her. “It was nice of you to drop by. I’ll be sure and tell Aunt Emmie that you stopped in to see me and that you say hello.”
A resigned sigh left her. As she walked past me, she paused and looked up at me quizzically. “Why did you pick Creswell Springs, Lyric?”
“The woman I love lives here.”
Chapter 12
Mila
With exhaustion pushing down on me like a ten-ton weight, I pulled my phone from my bag as I walked out of my last class of the day. Thirty minutes into the boring-as-hell psychology lecture, the damn thing had started vibrating up a storm. I was glad I’d at least turned it to silent before the professor arrived, or the dickhead would have called me out for having it on while in his class.
As it was, he’d still heard the vibrating—how, I wasn’t sure unless he had supersonic hearing since I was sitting all the way at the top of the lecture hall, and he’d been droning on and on just to hear the sound of his own voice. Every time my phone vibrated, his eyes would narrow, and he’d zero his gaze in on me. The look on his face told me he was wishing my head would explode, but he’d continued to talk, not even missing a beat.
My mom knew what time my classes were, and since Monroe was in her own class across campus, I figured it wasn’t likely to be either of them. Looking at the phone screen, I realized all the texts were from Aunt Raven, and they weren’t just to me. She’d done a mass group text to all the kids, letting us know Dad had found out who was opening the new tattoo place close to campus.
Only the week before, my parents had told my siblings and me that he’d been getting offers all summer from someone using a third party to try to buy in to the ink shop. He’d been turning them down left and right, and I wasn’t exactly surprised. Dad didn’t work with anyone unless it was the club. He liked being his own boss, not answering to anyone, even a partner.
They might not have even mentioned the whole thing if Mayor Jenkins hadn’t informed Dad that someone had leased a shop close to campus and things were being moved in. The lease said it was for a tattoo parlor, and my parents hadn’t wanted us to get upset, thinking this was going to cause problems for Dad.
I rarely worried about something causing Dad headaches of any kind. Who would want to get on that raging bull’s bad side?
Since our dinner conversation that night, I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. Whoever it was, they wouldn’t be around long enough to mean anything to me, so I wasn’t going to worry about them.
Not when I already had enough of my own problems to stress over.
But now that Aunt Raven was group-texting me, my brother, sister, and cousins, I realized this might be more of an issue than my parents had originally let on.
Opening the text to see the full line of messages, I scrolled to the top and started reading.
Only to drop my phone as soon as I saw his name.
“Motherfuck,” I whisper-shouted and bent to pick up the damn thing. Turning it over, I saw the screen was cracked, and I cursed myself for not putting on a case to protect it. Since I had a ring on the back of it, I didn’t drop my phone often, but I’d gotten clumsy lately.
Sighing, I dusted off the dirt on the cracked screen only to slice my thumb open on a sliver I hadn’t realized was sticking up. “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, sucking my injured thumb into my mouth as I walked toward my car.
Opening the back door, I tossed my bag inside along with the busted phone and slammed the door. Getting behind the wheel, I punched the start button and reversed in a hurry. I’d seen the shop the day before on my way to my morning classes with that stupid “Now Hiring” sign.
Only a few minutes later, I pulled up in front of the shop and turned off the car. Angrily, I got out and slammed the door again, but it did nothing to alleviate my anger.