Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
FIFTY-SIX
DAVINA
When a week passed since the lake and I hadn’t heard from Deke, I wasn’t surprised.
But when another week crept by and there wasn’t a single peep, I drowned in guilt and immediately wanted to call him.
After the way I’d bolted, I couldn’t blame him for not reaching out. I did that a lot—bolted when things got complicated. I was tempted to text him sometimes while at work to check in with him and see if he was okay, but I knew he wasn’t. Texting him would’ve been torturing him, and I’d done that enough.
During that last night with him, I developed a feeling I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was a feeling that made me question the love I’d shared with Lewis and the years spent with him.
It contradicted what I’d told myself the day of Lew’s funeral about melting in another man’s hands. Deke had lowered my guard completely in such a short span of time, and for a split second, I felt safe because it was only us.
No one else was around.
No one could interrupt.
I could be me, and he could be himself.
It was perfect . . . but maybe a little too perfect, if there was such a thing.
Regardless, that safety with him scared the shit out of me.
I lowered the wand of my mascara, studying my reflection. So put together on the outside but a mess inside. With a huff, I stuffed the mascara into my makeup bag and left the bathroom to find my shoes.
I couldn’t stay in my house a minute longer, with everything I had on my mind. Octavia insisted I come home and take a breather, and she was right. I was going to Maple Cove to see her, Mama, and my little brother, Abe.
Maple Cove was a small town that was only a fifteen-minute drive from Asheville. It was so small, in fact, that many people liked to lump Maple Cove in with Asheville, but the true natives never did. Maple was much more secluded.
I drove on a four-block road lined with cars, passing Mrs. Rina’s coffee shop, which I’d spent many days studying in; the bed-and-breakfast Mrs. Buttle owned, where tourists loved sleeping in; and then the barbershop where Daddy used to get his haircuts.
Octavia and I would sit on the curb waiting for Daddy to get his shape-up. His barber, Bradley, would hand us Dum Dum lollipops and wink for behaving afterward.
There was the familiar hair salon, but the name had changed to Clara’s, and two stores away was a brand-new candy shop, with taffy rolling in the window.
Then there was Mama’s candle shop, Aromantic, with its gold sign and black drapes in the window.
When I drove through town, it only took about a minute more before I was making a right turn and taking a familiar dirt path that led to a two-bedroom house.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the hovering trees and beamed on the newly built roof. The tan exterior had been refreshed with another coat of paint.
Bold emerald box hedges hugged the lower half of the house, and the porch (which you had to get to with a four-step stoop) had plants hanging from the ceiling in baskets that swayed with the breeze. Two wicker chairs with waterproof cushions were nestled in the corners, and as I walked up the stoop, I noticed more plants and flowers had been added.
It was like a mini jungle on the porch, and I loved it. Sure, I had my place in Charlotte, but this was my real home.
I dug into my purse until I found my key, then gave the lock a twist and turned the doorknob to get inside. Dishes clanked from a distance, and I could smell something savory cooking.
I took a quick sweep of the front room. Dark hardwood floors and shelves built into the walls, topped with books and plants. A love seat and a recliner, neither of which matched, were set near the walls, and a TV was mounted to face them both.
A bohemian red rug was placed beneath a round wooden coffee table, and on one of the side tables was an essential oil diffuser steadily blowing out mist and whatever scent Mama had picked for the day. Today it smelled citrusy, like lemon and a hint of clove. This house I grew up in wasn’t much, but it was cozy.
“Mama?” I called from the door. The clanking of dishes stopped, and as I set my purse down, I saw her head pop around a corner.
“Davina Bobina!” she sang, rushing out of the kitchen, wearing an apron with cartoonish avocados on it. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tight, and I huffed a laugh as I held her back.
My mom may have worked my nerves a lot, but if there was one thing about her, she could deliver an amazing hug.