I swallowed the burn in my throat. It was just allergies, and I was being ridiculous. Maybe a little worried about Jodi’s reaction when she saw me.
Yeah. No. I was terrified of what she’d say. Her family had fractured after Jason’s death, and instead of reaching out to her, I ran.
In my years of marriage to Jason, Jodi had clung to me like a barnacle, as if sensing I wasn’t really into being a sister-in-law but determined to hug me into submission anyway. When Jason was alive, she wore me down, but after I left I slowly stopped regular communication with everyone other than my immediate family. It got to where I really only sent Jodi happy birthday texts and liked all her Instagram posts. Which were prolific. So it felt like I knew what she’d been up to, even if maybe that hadn’t gone both ways.
I headed inside to get ready, brushing my teeth, putting on a ton of deodorant to fight the early morning heat, and throwing on sunscreen. No make-up. I was in jean shorts, an old N-Sync concert tee, and Birkenstocks. I appraised my wavy hair in the bathroom mirror and took in the way it hung halfway down my back. I should probably get it trimmed and colored; I’d only paid attention to it maybe once a year these past five years.
Wait. You know what? Fuck it. If I was going to be stuck here for six months, then I was doing at least one thing totally in my control.
Walking into Gigi’s room, I diligently ignored the way my heart ka-thumped at the sight and baby-powder scent of it, and pushed open the ensuite bathroom door. I pulled open the left sink drawer, and sure enough, her cutting shears glinted in the light. I grabbed them and bolted to the other bathroom.
I fluffed my hair, considering. I’d always wanted chin-length hair, and had watched about a million videos on Instagram about how to do it, but had never been brave enough to make it happen. Well, today was the day.
I pulled up the video I’d watched the most and set to it, parting my hair into quadrants and carefully clipping, taking my time and making liberal use of the hand mirror that was still under the sink. Twenty minutes later, I’d cut off at least a foot of hair, and the rest hung thick and fluffy just below my chin. I looked like a totally different person.
Perfect.
4
DEVON 5 MONTHS, 29 DAYS TO GO
I STARTED toward the coffee shop, cropped hair already clinging to the back of my neck thanks to the humidity. The neighborhood hadn’t changed at all, other than bushes getting fuller and trees growing taller. They looked good, with perfectly trimmed yards and flawless green carpets of grass winking at me as I passed, making Gigi’s house look even worse by comparison.
I heard a yip, and a yellow dog trotted up, his scraggly tail wagging at full speed and wearing what I’d swear was a smile on his face. He was grungy, and he had a mohawk on his head. Cute. Ugly, but cute. Likely a stray, if I had to guess, but a well-fed one. I leaned down to pet him, and he stopped and planted his butt on the sidewalk.
“Aren’t you a good boy?” I cooed, giving him a good scratch. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to be too nice to him, but it’s not like I was sticking around.
As I straightened and resumed my walk to the coffee shop, the dog kept pace with me. I wasn’t too mad about it, because the closer I got, the more my hands shook. I breathed deep. Who knows? Maybe Jodi wouldn’t be there. I hadn’t completely ignored her like I had her younger sister Jess, but Jess hadn’t seemed to care like I knew Jodi did.
The dog gave a little woof and went up on his hind legs, forcing me to a stop right as we got in front of the shop.
I smiled. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
He woofed again and licked my hand.
“Guess I need to put on my big girl pants and go in there. Right?” My smile faltered.
He snuffled and woofed, then took off at a sprint. I watched him go, and then gasped as he hightailed it into the firehouse a block away.
Jason. I could see him sauntering out of there like he was invincible, a grin on his face as he made his way to me after a shift and wrapped me in a hug. I smelled his soap-and-fire-station scent, the memory of him suddenly, painfully physical. Nausea gripped me, my stomach roiling, and my mouth went dry. I bent over, my hands on my knees, and squeezed my eyes shut. God, the last thing I said to him…
This right here. This is why I didn’t want to come back.
It’d been five years, but sometimes it felt like it was yesterday. Being here, in front of Jodi’s coffeeshop and down the block from the station, wasn’t helping.
Breathe.
“Hon? You okay?”
A set of orthopedic sneakers appeared in front of me, and I straightened, pushing everything down and blinking away the tears that’d nearly come. I couldn’t think about Jason like that.
I took in the five feet of octogenarian wrath before me. “Mrs. Withers.” None other than Gigi’s mortal enemy since a fight over a boy. The very woman who would lead the historical society to take possession of Gigi’s house if I weren’t here.
She blinked back at me, her owlish eyes sharpening into a hawk’s behind her bottle-thick glasses. “Devon Rayne.” Her mouth flattened and puckered like she’d eaten something foul.
Her mean-girl transformation was impressive enough to knock me back to as normal as I was going to get. “Nice of you to check on a stranger.”
She sniffed and raised her chin, giving me a perfect view of the chin hair I could probably pluck out with my fingers. “Well, you were blocking the sidewalk.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Right.”
“I presume you’re here because of Shirley’s will.” She barely managed to not sneer Gigi’s name.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but Southern manners ran deep and Mrs. Withers had many, many decades on me. Even if she was committing so many fashion crimes it was a wonder someone hadn’t locked her up. “News travels fast,” I said sweetly.
“Well, I guess you’ll be on your way.” Her voice warbled a little, and normally I’d have thought it was almost melodic. Coming out of Mrs. Withers, however, it was as though one of Satan’s henchwomen was screaming at me. “We’ll take care of the house.”
I cocked my head and gave her my best shit-eating grin. “Oh, now, Mrs. Withers. Where’s the fun in that? No,” I sighed, putting my hands in the back pocket of my shorts and really getting into the act, “I think I’ll stay the whole time. Who knows? Maybe I’ll run for Town Council.”
Her eyes flew wide.
“Now if you’ll excuse me.” I sidestepped her and headed for the coffee shop, shaking my head as I went. That woman was unbelievable. I couldn’t wait to tell Rick.
The smell of roasted coffee beans hit me as soon as I opened the door. The shop had undergone a massive transformation since Jodi took over, the overhaul of which I’d followed on Instagram. Overstuffed couches and chairs filled one corner, with a counter and stools behind them. Tables were scattered throughout, and around the cash register were carrells of jewelry, which I’d bet anything were crafted by local artists. I couldn’t help but smile. She’d taken it over at twenty-three, right after college, and turned this place into the exact kind of shop she’d always wanted, and I was so proud of her.
But she still wouldn’t want to see me. If I were her, I’d be pissed at the way I’d all but ignored her for years.
I kept my head down in the hope no one noticed or recognized me, because even though this wasn’t a super-small town, it wasn’t that big, either. I’d gone through enough emotions already today, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock.
