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But what I couldn’t miss was when my baby sister squealed, her voice carrying as she shouted, “Oh my God, you’re finally here! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show and I was going to have to make good on that whole kidnapping threat.”
I swiveled to look over my shoulder to find out who she was talking to.
Couldn’t be blamed that I was still on edge by her claim that someone had asked her out. All too ready to interrogate the clown so he’d have it clear really damned fast there would be no fooling around.
My sister might look like she was all fun and games. Up for a good time. But I knew her better than anyone. She’d get her heart tromped, she’d be crushed, and the parts of her that were finally healing would be ripped right back open.
I wasn’t going to stand aside and watch it fucking happen.
But no, it wasn’t some douchewad with a hard-on standing next to my sister.
It was Charleigh Lowe.
And my sister was hugging her tight.
THIRTEEN
CHARLEIGH
I’d changedmy mind three times about coming here, wavering, the mental pros and cons list stacked so high against each other that it’d weighed me down. I’d changed my shoes just as many times, waffling between cute sandal wedges and comfy sneakers and the ultimatethis is not a big dealpair of flip-flops to pair with the shorts that I’d pulled on.
Then I’d glimpsed that gorgeous bouquet on my table, and my spirit had squeezed with the truth that it would be rude if I didn’t show. I’d figured I should put in some effort since Raven had for me, inviting me here, making me feel welcome, treating me as if I might mean something to someone.
And the truth was, I was lonely. So lonely that I ached. So lonely that I could feel the proof of it carved out in me.
A throbbing, misshapen hole.
Wearing a cute flowy blue floral top, I’d shoved my feet back into the wedges, buckled them, and stared at myself through the mirror and told myself I was going to march out the door and have a good time.
So, I’d walked the half mile to the park beneath the warm, caressing rays of the sun, convinced that I would. Still, I sucked in a shallowbreath when I rounded the corner and saw the horde of people gathered at the park.
Rows of white-topped canopies lined the edges of the fields, and strains of country music floated on the breeze, laughter woven in between.
A rush of disquiet gusted, that tremor that warned me to slink away and hide.
The words on my inner arm blazed their reminder.
In grief we must live.
I forced the scatter of fear down, lifted my chin, and walked the rest of the way to the park.
I felt a little semblance of calm when I stepped into the mass and blended in with the crowd.
Becoming one with the families, the conversations and the smiling faces.
I wound through, peeking at the displays at each of the booths. There were crafts and organic vegetables, drinks and art, jewelry and handmade soaps and candles.
Each was donating a portion of their profits to the Moonlit Ridge Animal Shelter.
I kept moving, searching until I finally found the small booth with a banner claimingMoonfloweracross the top.
There was a small line wound around the display, but I could see Raven’s black hair piled on her head with a bunch of flowers sticking out of it as she chatted with a customer.
I held back, browsing a display of hair clips and ribbons at the booth to the right of hers.
Once the last customer walked away with an armful of fresh flowers, she turned to rearrange the bucket of lilies behind her that was almost empty.
I eased up to the display table that separated us.
