“I think the time apart really helped me put things into perspective,” Bobby continued, yet she couldn’t pay attention to a word he said. His voice had become background noise, nothing more than a fly buzzing through the air.
The mid-summer heatwave had driven a lot of people inside the shop for ice cream to cool off from the sun, so chatter was all around. Laughter, spoons clanking on glass cups, chairs scraping against the floor as people moved from table to table. But somehow, amid the cacophony of noise, the bell above the door chimed, indicating someone had either entered or exited, and it caught Emily’s attention. It’d rung out at least a half dozen times since she sat down, and she’d managed to ignore every ring until this one. This time—for reasons unbeknownst to her—it called to her.
Like a magnet she couldn’t fight against.
A siren she couldn’t ignore.
She glanced up, and that’s when she saw him.
Tall and lanky, his dark hair going every which way. His scuffed and worn dingo boots peeked out beneath faded corduroy flares. One look at him, and everything else vanished. Bobby continued talking, but Emily couldn’t hear a word of it. She was too busy eyeing the man she’d spent the last four days dreaming about.
Andy moved through the parlor, heading toward the back where she sat with Bobby—until he spotted her. He came to an immediate and abrupt halt, as though the sight of her had knocked the wind from his lungs.
The only thing that kept her rooted in the booth was the unforgiving expression on his face. His narrowed gaze held her captive, his brows drawn together as if solving an impossible equation in his mind.
Time passed in slow motion, yet everything else seemed to happen too quickly. So fast that she could hardly process the events, let alone react. Her head spun with uncertainty over the cause of Andy’s dismay. Then her attention shifted back to Bobby, all the pieces coming together to create a mass of paranoia in the center of her chest.
Andy stood stock-still, staring unblinkingly at Emily. Emily sat stone-cold in the booth, unable to consume enough oxygen to think properly. Meanwhile, Bobby had turned to peer over his shoulder, wondering what had caused Emily to flush right before going pale as a sheet. Noticing the man behind him, he shifted on his bottom, swinging his legs out from beneath the table as if readying himself to stand. With his chest puffed out like a warrior in battle, he grabbed ahold of the end of the table, the metal ring along the edge digging into his fingers. Although, a fraction of a second before pulling himself to his feet, he realized that Andy hadn’t been glaring at him. Instead, his focus had been solely on Emily.
Bobby’s gaze bounced between the girl he wanted to win back and the only person in town he truly hated. Fiery anger unfurled in his chest, his knuckles turning ghost white as he fisted his hands, déjà vu plaguing his memories, practically blinding him to reality. The three of them seemingly in a time warp, a standoff of sorts.
Ending any possibility of causing a scene, Andy turned on his heel and left the way he came in, just as quietly and quickly, too. Emily wanted to chase after him, though fear and paranoia stopped her brain from communicating with her muscles, preventing her from being able to move. All she could do was stare at Bobby and wait for him to explain what had just happened.
“Do you know who that is?” he asked, almost accusatorily.
She didn’t respond, only stared aimlessly while apprehension singed her senses.
“Emily, answer me. Why did Andy look at you like that?” Panic mingled with anger in his tone as he glared across the table at her, demanding a response to a question he deemed imperative.
She didn’t like the way he said Andy’s name, as if it were tainted. Dirty. More importantly, she didn’t like how the unspoken accusation made her feel—like a fraud. A liar. A cheat. Emily had spent an hour with Andy…one easy hour. Without fighting. Without hurt feelings. They’d laughed and had a good time, no different from outings with her friends. Aside from a little innocent handholding, they hadn’t done anything to warrant such negative emotions. At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself as she fought against the unfamiliar insecurity that strangled her.
Emily had never dealt with such feelings before. She unapologetically followed her own lead, owning up to her mistakes when warranted. It also meant that she wouldn't back down if she believed her actions were justified. Self-doubt wasn’t something she’d experienced—at least not often, and not in a long while. However, as she sat confronted with the possible consequences of spending time with Andy, she struggled to grasp her inner fight—the one that would’ve instantly pointed out she was single and free to spend however much time with whoever she wanted.
Which was exactly what she had done four nights ago.
“How should I know?” Unstable defensiveness gripped her tone.
The creases in his brow deepened as he pursed his lips tighter. His nostrils flared when he leaned against the table, practically towering over her while she sat in silence. With the menacing glint in his eyes and hovering posture, Emily expected his words to be filled with hate, laden with anger. To her surprise, they weren’t. Instead, his voice came out filled with pain when he said, “Tell me, Emmy. How do you know him?”
“I met him the other night.” The backs of her eyes burned with her confession.
“Where? When?”
“I met him the night of the Fourth…right before the fireworks,” she admitted, purposely excluding any real detail. “What’s the big deal, Bobby?”
His Adam’s apple dipped with his thick swallow just before he dropped his head into his open palms. “Did you do this on purpose? Were you trying to get back at me for breaking up with you?”
“What are you talking about? Do what?”
Bobby dropped his hands and gawked at her, baffled as to how she could possibly not know what he was talking about. “Hang out with him. Andy. Why him…of all people?”
Trying yet failing to follow along, she asked, “How do you know him?”
He blinked rapidly, jaw practically unhinged in disbelief. “He’s Andy Crowe.”
As if struck in the head, the room spun around her.
Andy Crowe.
Suddenly, Emily understood so much.
While becoming even more confused at the same time.
Chapter Six
Drew
Finishing my shift for the night, I pulled the required hairnet off my head and tossed it into the trash on my way out of the kitchen. The dinner rush was over, and now it was time for the entertainment part of the evening to commence on the deck that wrapped around The Feeder. I wasn’t required to stay for that, but the second I caught the sight of those perfect, glossy lips and light eyes framed in that golden veil, I thought twice about going home.
I really started to believe that Kenny owned my attention, as if I had no choice in the matter. Like now, in a crowd of people, she was the first—and only—person I noticed. It was enough to convince me that my subconscious actively sought her out, regardless of if I wanted to see her or not.
It wasn’t like I didn’t want to see Kenny. Because I did. There was something about her that drew me in, and part of me was desperate to understand what it was. But after last night, I was a bit hesitant at the thought of spending more time with her. I knew she still had a long list of questions about what I’d told her regarding the lake and my family, and I simply wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated.