My stomach knotted up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that…”
“You did, and that’s fine, but before you sit here judging me, focus on yourself right now. Decide if you truly want these people as friends. People aren’t careful about who they give themselves to nowadays because they think being liked is more important than being respected. These people will kill you.”
I laughed. “I doubt Louise and Kate are going to take my life.”
“I’m not talking about taking your life. I’m talking about them taking something more important.”
“And what’s that?”
“Your soul.”
I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. I just stood still as day as he moved in closer to me and spoke so softly. “Bark at them, Kennedy. Bark.”
He took a step backward, taking my breath along with him. My chest was so tight as he walked away. His words were sending chills down my spine as they played on repeat in my head, as if they were trying to unlock something within my memories.
Bark at them, Kennedy. Bark.
10
Kennedy
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry he treated you like that, Kennedy. What a freaking dick,” Yoana said through the phone as I yawned and stretched in bed. My back was extremely sick and tired of me being an idiot and sleeping in a car for the past few nights, so I’d moved myself inside to an actual bed like a real grown-up. I was so happy when the furniture finally arrived and the house began feeling more like a home.
“Yes,” I agreed, referring to Lars and the way he’d treated me the previous day. “I’m just sorry I lost your landscaper.”
“Whatever. It’s not a big deal. I’m sure someone else will come along. What matters most is that you’re okay. Do you need me to come home? I can come home. I can come home if you need me.”
“I am one hundred percent sure you’re not needed back in town.” I laughed.
“Really? Because Bora Bora is a complete bore. All we do is sunbathe and drink fruity drinks.”
“Gosh, what a hard, hard life.”
“You’re telling me. Plus there’s this guy who’s been following me around telling me he loves me nonstop and catering to my every want and need.”
I cocked an eyebrow as if she could see me. “You mean…your husband?”
“Husband.” She sighed, shaking her head back and forth. “What a freaking weird word. I have a husband.” She giggled, sounding smitten as ever.
“You sure do. You got a good one. Be thankful for that…there’s a lot of terrible fish in the sea.”
“Speaking of terrible fish…have you heard from your squid?”
My chest tightened, and I pulled my hair into a messy bun. “I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s good, right? Not hearing from him is a good thing.”
Maybe. Still, a part of me felt odd about not hearing from him at all. I tried my best not to think about it. The more I thought about it, the more I thought about my past, and that was hard for me. I wasn’t good at dealing with my past. It was too hard for me to face.
“Yeah, it’s good. Side note,” I said, shifting the conversation, “if you are interested in knowing, my neighbors are the most nosy people in the world.”
“Oh gosh, that’s great to know. I bet they are having a field day with you.”
“The biggest of field days. I’m kind of surprised a fruit pie or loaf of bread hasn’t shown up today.”
“It’s still early—I’m sure it’s on its way,” she joked. “What else is the town like? Is it the Southern Stars Hollow of our dreams?” Yoana asked, her voice filled with hope. “Are there bake sales and town parades because it’s Tuesday? Is there a Luke’s Diner? Oh my gosh, please tell me there’s a Luke’s Diner.”
I laughed. “I still haven’t walked around the town, actually, but you do have the cutest quirky neighbor. Oh, and fair warning—the town asshole owns the woods behind your property. I wouldn’t wander them if I were you. He’s the opposite of a people person.”
“Ohhh, interesting. Is he a Luke type of antisocial or a Jess antisocial?”
If there was anything Yoana and I were professionals at, it was talking in Gilmore Girls references.
“Jess. Totally a Jess.”
“Is he hot? Oh gosh, please tell me he’s hot.”
Oh, was Mr. Personality a fine specimen of an asshole. If grumpy smolders could kill, I would’ve been dead ten times over by now. It was as if someone took Damon from The Vampire Diaries, tossed in a little Hook from Once Upon A Time, and voila! Mr. Personality was born. If brooding was an Olympic sport, he’d take gold.
“That’s not the point,” I said, trying my hardest to shake off his obvious sex appeal because I was still on a mission to hate him—even if he did hang out with the elderly in his free time and save me from people like Lars. That didn’t cancel out his shortness with me or his moody personality.
“It is the point, Kennedy. It’s okay to find the town asshole sexy.”
And I did. It was just that Yoana didn’t need to know that fact—nor did anyone else—because it had no relevance to anything. Was Mr. Personality drop-dead gorgeous with locks of dark brown hair that fell in front of his face in the sexiest of ways? Yes. Had his deep eyes of mystery entranced me for a moment in time? Sure, yeah, whatever. Time stood still, blah blah, blah. That didn’t change the fact that he was lacking people skills. No amount of full lips or chiseled jawlines could change that fact.
His good looks and mysterious nature simply made looking away a bit more difficult.
“If you keep talking, I’m going to hang up the phone,” I joked, standing to walk into the bathroom.
“Fine, fine, but what do you mean you haven’t been into town yet? Don’t tell me you’ve been antisocial. You have to get out! Explore. Meet new people.”
“Trust me, I don’t have to meet new people. They have a way of coming straight to my front porch.”
“You need to get out, Kennedy. It will be good for you.”
“But your house is so big and comfy,” I playfully teased, trying to shift the direction the conversation was going. I could tell by Yoana’s sigh that she was worried. I knew it was because she was concerned about my mental health, which had been suffering majorly throughout the past few months. She wanted me to be okay, which I understood completely. I wanted that, too. These things just took time. I had to heal on my own terms—even when the rest of the world wanted me to get over it sooner than later.
That didn’t seem fair to me, though. It was my trauma, after all, not theirs.
But my husband had already left me because of my inability to move forward with my life. I couldn’t also lose my sister for the very same reasons.
“I just worry about you, Kenny,” she said, using the nickname Mama used to call me. My stomach fluttered with nerves as it fell from her lips. “You’ve been through so much. After losing Mama and Daddy and Da—”
“I’ll explore today,” I offered, cutting her off before she could go into mentioning the accident that had burned my soul. “I’ll see what’s going on in this place,” I said, trying to sound hopeful so Yoana’s worries could evaporate.
The sigh that slipped through the phone speaker was much more relaxed this time. “Oh, Kennedy, you’re going to love it! Nathan talked me into flipping the house out there by offering me a few highlights of Havenbarrow. There’s an old-fashioned drive-in movie theater that only plays black and white movies, and every other Friday night is a romantic movie,” she urged, piquing my interest.
“Oh? Do go on.”
“There’s a coffee shop that has a stray cat named Marshmallow that wanders around.”
Okay, she was now tickling my fancy.
“And, and, and!” she exclaimed, her excitement coming through loud and clear. “The library has a secret bookshelf! At least that’s the urban legend. The bookshelf leads to a hidden reading nook, and you have to find the right book to unlock it. Rumor has it no one
has found it yet, but it’s supposed to be there.”
Challenge accepted.
“You can even take Mama and Daddy’s car out to get around,” Yoana said with a splash of hope.
That was definitely taking things too far. She knew about my issues with driving. I wasn’t ready to jump off the diving board just yet. “One step at a time, sis.”
I could almost feel her guilty smile coming through the phone. “I had to try.”
After hanging up with Yoana, in an attempt to avoid the invasive individuals bearing baked goods and to push myself out of my comfort zone, I walked into town to find some breakfast.
The café had a very Luke’s Diner feel to it with the random tables scattered around and red leather booths along the walls. The stools that sat at the front counter were occupied by individuals chatting, using their actual voices instead of staring down at their cell phones. There was a sign on the wall in front of the coffee station that read, No cell phones. Connect and unplug or get the eff out.
Now, if that wasn’t a Luke’s Diner comment, I didn’t know what was. I guessed there was no need to ask if they had a Wi-Fi password I could use. I slid my phone into my purse and sat down in a booth. It didn’t take long for my steak and eggs to be delivered to me, and then I turned my attention to the window for my dining entertainment. An adorable puppy was leashed across the street.
Don’t do it, pup.
The owner of the dog was yelling at someone on her cell phone and flailing her arms around like a madwoman. The dog’s leash was tied to a bike rack, and every few seconds, it would tug on the leather strap, loosening the knot a hair. He was trying to reach the stray cat sitting on the opposite side of the busy street, licking its paws clean.
The owner didn’t notice her dog’s level of distress, too busy screaming into her phone to concern herself with the fact that her dog was about to take off running into traffic.
The pacing of my heartbeats became erratic. The dog’s leash was almost loose. He was almost freed from the restraint in place for his own protection. “No,” I muttered to myself, my hands shaking, hoping the dog would sit and stay where it was.
The cat stretched himself out, making the dog even more frantic. The alertness in the dog’s eyes and its loud barks should’ve made the owner take note, but she hadn’t.
Imagine being that disconnected from one’s surroundings.
“No!” I screamed, my voice cracking as the sound shot from my lips. People glanced my way, but I didn’t care.
I leaped up from my booth as chills raced through my body, and two seconds later, the leash was free, the dog was in the street, and my heart was in my throat.
Before the dog could leap in front of a car, before a gruesome sight unfurled right before me, Mr. Personality stepped into the road in front of the moving vehicle and snatched the dog up into his arms.
Mr.
Freaking.
Personality.
Are you kidding me?!
Grown, buff man holding tiny, defenseless puppy against his chest?
Instant lady boner.
The driver of the vehicle slammed his hand to the horn before gesturing in the air with a look of disgust then speeding off.
The owner of the pup turned to see the man with her dog in his arms, and she looked horrified—not by her dog almost losing its life, but by the man who was holding on to the animal.
She snatched her pet away from him and started waving her hands in the air yet again, seemingly cussing him out for saving her pet.
What in the world is wrong with her?
Sure, he was known as the town asshole, but at that moment, he was a dang superhero! She should’ve been thanking the jerk for his heroic act. Instead, she was cussing him out as if he was the cause of the incident. Mr. Personality stood tall and didn’t yell back at her. In fact, he didn’t say a word. His full lips stayed pressed together, and he didn’t seemed bothered by said woman in the least. Not a raised eyebrow and not a single smile or frown on his lips.
He just seemed…blank.
Completely disconnected from the aggression being blasted his way.
He was better than me at that moment, that was for certain. If it were me, I would’ve invented curse words using every letter in the alphabet.
As she kept hollering, Mr. Personality turned and walked away from her, leaving the woman with her word vomit and bad pet owner skills.
The bell over the door dinged as he walked into the café. He took a seat at a corner booth, opened a menu, straightened his ballcap, and lowered his head, curving his massive shoulders forward as he studied the menu with too many options.
Why did he do that?
Why did he freaking have to save a pup from oncoming traffic?
Why did he have to make it so hard for me to dislike him?
Mr. Personality was built like a superhero. From his chiseled jawline to his biceps-on-biceps arms, that man probably could’ve stopped a highspeed train using his man-of-steel chest. It was a shame that when I crossed his path, his people skills didn’t match his apparent gym skills. Then again, that would’ve made him too good to be true.
“If you wanted a plate of salt with a steak and eggs on the side, you could’ve just asked,” a friendly voice offered, snapping my stare from Mr. Personality to the food I’d been mindlessly shaking salt onto for the past five minutes.
“Sorry,” I muttered, placing the saltshaker on the table and lowering myself back down in my seat. I glanced back out at the window to find the woman yelling at her dog for being disobedient.
I felt bad for the dog. The owner seemed like a truly disrespectful person.
“No need to be sorry. We all have our quirky habits,” the friendly voice promised.
My eyes moved to the guy speaking. He had thin rose-colored lips and green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. His eyes had this talent of being able to smile all on their own. His cheeks were covered in red freckles that matched his spiked orangish-red hair. I took in his name tag and grinned as I read it out loud. “Marty.” He looked exactly how I would’ve imagined a Marty to look. Kind of slim, but very tall. Kind of nerdy, but oddly handsome.
“That’s me,” he said, his lips turning up to match his smiling eyes. “Can I get you another steak and scrambled eggs?”
I hesitated, debating if I wanted to spend more money. Even though Yoana had been determined to shove money into my pockets, I declined. I still had enough in my savings from my books, but with the way I was writing—or not writing—I didn’t know when more money would come my way. Each nickel needed to matter.
Marty must have been a mind reader because he followed up his offer by saying it would be on the house.
“You wouldn’t get in trouble for that?” I asked, my stomach rumbling louder than I wanted it to. A level of embarrassment ran through me as I looked down at my salt-covered plate to avoid his concerned eyes.
“Ah, it’s no big deal. My dad owns the place.” He cleared his throat and leaned in to whisper, “I’ll score you some extra toast, too.” Marty lifted my plate off the table after picking it up and placing it back down a total of four times. I didn’t mention the odd behavior, but I did offer him a smile.
He looked about my age, maybe a year or so younger.
There was this odd struggle I saw happening in Marty’s eyes as he reached for the saltshaker once and placed it back on the table. He lifted it again, placed it down once more. This same action happened two more times, for a total of four. I arched an eyebrow to see his cheeks redden from some kind of shame.
“Sorry.” He laughed nervously. “Just a bad case of OCD.” He flinched at his words and my lips turned down. It was apparent that his obsessive-compulsive disorder was something he tried his best to hide but was unable to conceal.
That seemed to be the case with everyone, I supposed—having a secret you tried your best to hide.
I leaned in closer to him. “Don’t worry—we all have our quirky habits.” I winked
his way and watched ease permeate his gaze.
“Is there a problem?” a stern voice asked.
I took my eyes away from Marty to look up at a grown man who was twice his size. Marty’s father, I assumed from the looks of things. His name tag told me his name was Gary.
Gary glared at his son and sighed, a look of disappointment in his tired eyes. “Are you freaking out the customers again?”
Before Marty could reply—or drop the shaky plate in his hand—I gripped his insecure hands and turned to Gary with a big smile. “I was just eyeing your red velvet cake in the display over there, and your son Marty here was telling me you have the best in town.”
Gary’s eyes softened. His lips turned up into a tiny grin as he crossed his arms and pushed out his chest. “That’s the truth. Best slice of cake you’ll find in Havenbarrow, and all of Kentucky, at that. I make everything from scratch. It’s the real deal. Ain’t nothing fake like that new chain restaurant across the street, taking all our customers. They use all frozen crap that messes with people’s insides. We pride ourselves on using real food. My cake is to die for.” It was amazing how manly Gary still appeared as he talked about a cake.
“Well, I’ll definitely have to come back one day and check it out.”
Gary brushed his palm across his brows. “You definitely do. Well, I better get back to the kitchen. Marty”—Gary’s annoyed look returned—“get to wiping down the other tables before the late-morning crowd comes through.”
Gary disappeared back into the busy kitchen, where pots and pans could be heard rattling. Marty thanked me for distracting his father for a moment then hurried off to place my new order.
While I waited, I pulled out a pen and a notebook from my purse and began adding to my list of things to do in Havenbarrow.
Learn to bake a cake from scratch.
Every now and again, I’d glance over at the table where Mr. Personality sat, and a flurry of nerves would hit me at an overwhelming speed. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I tried to avert my gaze. I felt as if I were a straight-up creeper, staring in his direction, yet something about him drew me in and made it almost impossible to look away.
Southern Storms Page 9
