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The social pecking order wasn’t quite like I was sure she was used to down South, but there was an established hierarchy—or there was when I lived here—and she sat firmly at the top.

When the sounds of crackling bacon and the faint hum of the coffee machine replaced conversation, I was happy to have the silence. Even if it was a bit tense. Sharon wasn’t apt to let me off the hook or accept vague truths or even blatant dishonesty about where I’d been. I’d have to be a lot more calculated about what I said to her, more convincing in my lies.

I finished my Bloody Mary in time for her to place a steaming-hot mug in front of me.

“Drink.” She motioned toward my coffee, now cradling her own. “Then eat. Then we’ll talk.”

I swallowed a gulp of coffee, searing my throat, nodding mutely at her orders as if I were seventeen all over again.

My stomach was full, and I was both jittery from so much caffeine yet somewhat calmed by the generous dose of vodka in my Bloody Mary.

Sharon and I had eaten, not in silence, with her updating me on the goings-on of Dreadwood Falls since my “departure.” Who had married, divorced, who was cheating on whom. Though it seemed so foreign to me and so insignificant compared to what I knew was out there, I found it faintly comforting. For the past decade, all I talked about were monsters, all I thought about were monsters. It wasn’t clear just how much they invaded my life until I wasn’t talking or thinking about them.

Until I was pretending I was just another wayward, small-town girl who had found her way back.

After eating, Sharon cleaned up, refusing to let me help, then settled back in a chair. “Now that you’ve got a full stomach and your wits about you, the interrogation will start.” She winked.

I pulled my hair up into a messy bun with a sigh. “I suppose I deserve it.”

Her hand covered mine. “You have deserved nothing that happened to you, and you will not be on the receiving end of my ire, though you did break my son’s heart. Normally, my claws come out for that.” She gave me a sly smile. “But I understand why you left. Although I thought you’d come back a little sooner. And looking a bit more…” Her eyes ran over me.

I did not measure up to her version of an appropriately attired young woman. She was impeccably dressed in a pressed pair of pants, a designer blouse, diamonds at her ears, a real Rolex on her wrist, and her bottle-blonde hair could pass for natural. Her tan face was only faintly wrinkled, looking at least twenty years younger than she actually was. She had the same arresting blue eyes as Colton, though a deeper shade than his and his father’s.

“Appropriate?” I finished for her.

Her eyes found mine. They were kind. Not judgmental or disappointed. “Happier,” she amended. “Healed.”

“I don’t look healed?” I asked sarcastically.

“No, honey, you don’t.” She sounded sad. “You look like you’ve got more trouble on your heels than when you first ran away.”

“I didn’t run.” I hated how easy it was for her to see through me.

She tilted her head to the side. “Didn’t you?”

I pursed my lips. Arguing with her was pointless, especially since she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Are you here to stay?” There was a palpable amount of hopefulness in her tone.

“No.” If there was anyone who deserved the unvarnished truth, it was her. “This isn’t my home anymore. I don’t fit here.”

“It’ll always be your home,” she countered. “And the house might stay the same, but you’ll be surprised at how things can adapt to new shapes and identities.”

I was surprised by her talking about shaping and adapting, since she was the same person I’d known almost a decade and a half ago. Same hair, same sharp yet kind tongue.

“Thank you. For this.” I waved around the house. “You didn’t need to do all of this to keep up the house.”

“I did.” She shifted in her seat. “It is my responsibility to my friends to make sure their daughter always has a place to come back to. When she needs to. But if you’re not staying, that’s fine too.” She sucked in a ragged breath, and her composure slipped, just for a moment, her eyes going glassy. “You can’t bury us all with your parents, Hadley. They wouldn’t have wanted that.”

A stone lodged in my throat. An uncomfortable one. Impossible to swallow or breathe around. I’d done so well at not thinking about what my parents might’ve thought about what I’d become. Now I couldn’t escape seeing myself through their eyes. They wouldn’t judge me for the tattoos, the wardrobe, or even the foul mouth. They’d simply be sad that I’d dedicated my whole life to rage and vengeance.

“I miss them terribly,” Sharon continued, watching me. “I didn’t come here for a long time because this is where they died.” She squeezed her eyes shut, the unadorned pain on her face cutting into my gut. “But this is also where they lived. Where you took your first steps. Spoke your first words. This place was full of life and love long before death came. And it cannot steal that.”

I clenched my fists against her sage advice, trying to let it roll off my back. But it didn’t, couldn’t.

Sharon elegantly wiped a tear from her perfectly made-up face. “Anyway.” She waved her hand. “I said my piece. You can tell me where you’ve been, what you’re doing—though I suspect you won’t, and I don’t blame you for that. A woman is entitled to her secrets.” She smiled. “I’m going to insist on you coming to dinner tonight, though. I also have it on good authority that you haven’t consumed a vegetable or fruit for the entirety of your stay, and I suspect most of your adult life. How you’ve maintained your figure is anyone’s guess.”

My figure? I didn’t give a shit about maintaining any kind of figure. As long as it helped me take down non-human entities or manipulate men who thought with their dicks, I didn’t give it much thought.