Page 119 of Revival
This is how it’ll be from now on.
Joyful, peaceful, chaos.
27
Spencer
I drummy fingers on the steering wheel to the indie rock beat. A nervous energy floods my system as I wait for the light to turn green. I’m on my way to pick up Cortney for an adventure that has the potential to blow up in my face.
Things are moving fast between us. I suppose that’s what you get when you fall for someone you used to know. So many things are still the same. Like her facial expressions, her hair, her laughter, the freckles on her skin, and the dimple in her cheek.
Learning what’s changed is like receiving a new gift every single day.
I discovered she no longer listens to pop when a mainstream song came on the radio. She’s exclusively a country girl. And that somewhere over the last twenty years, she gave up her belly button ring that she pierced by herself in Chloe Erickson’s basement in the tenth grade.
Or how she almost exclusively wears her hair down. Except for when she’s on an island vacation or working.
My favorite is how I can see her falling for me. Day after day, she reveals the girl who used to love me wholeheartedly.
Which means I’m running out of time to reveal the truth. The whole truth. Not the half story I gave her at the resort. She needs to know that leaving wasn’t my choice, and that there’s not a chance in hell I’ll ever leave her again.
Blue and red flashing lights sour my afternoon. The exaggerated whoop of a siren demands I direct my truck onto the shoulder.
Rolling my window down, I watch through the side mirror as a familiar silhouette steps out of the cop car. A frisson of nervous energy zips up my spine.
His approach is slow. The bastard is probably looking for a reason for the stop, seeing as I didn’t do anything wrong. Hasn’t stopped him before. I wouldn’t be surprised if he punched out my taillight himself.
The years haven’t been kind to Sheriff Perry. Black hair replaced with white. Deeper lines. Same badge. Same calculating eyes.
“License and insurance,” he barks at my open window.
“Sheriff.” I hand over the documents and return my hands to the wheel.
“Don’t move.” He returns to his car.
I watch him through the rearview. I don’t trust this guy and wouldn’t put it past him to fuck with me. Our history is deep and rooted in false accusations and grudges. His personal vendetta forced me away.
But I’m not eighteen anymore. And I won’t let anybody stand in the way of what I want.
Especially not a guy named Jim.
Time ticks by. Five minutes turns into ten. At the fifteen-minute mark, I consider getting out of my truck. Then I remember that I have enough scars without adding a bullet wound to the collection. After twenty minutes, he strolls back to my window and tosses the documents onto my lap.
“Town’s sure been quiet since you left it.” He looks toward the engine compartment. The position is seemingly innocuous, but I don’t miss the hand placement on his belt near his gun.
“I find that hard to believe, Sheriff.”
“Thought this was a leisurely visit.”
“More like a permanent one.”
His lip curls in a semblance of a snarl. “Didn’t think that was part of the agreement.”
“Heard you were about to retire. Seems to me like the agreement is over.”
“It’s never over.” He watches a white sedan drive down the road.
My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “There a reason you stopped me?”
