Page 24 of Weather the Storm
“Ah. Yeah, that’ll do it.”
Magnolia and I spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch, bingeing on Netflix shows, only pausing to scarf down food. Before either one of us know it, hours and hours have passed, and the sun has long since set.
Just as the credits for the latest episode of our show roll, Magnolia’s phone pings somewhere in the house, causing her to get up and search for it.
Curious about exactly how much time has passed, I set off on a hunt for my own phone, only to find it wedged between the cushion and the side of the recliner we were sleeping—and doing other things—in.Damn, it’s nearing eight o’clock already.Time flies…
Moments later, Magnolia walks back into the room, looking wide-eyed and flustered. “Everything okay?” I ask, rushing to her side. It’s been an emotional day for the both of us, but especially her.
Hesitantly, she nods her head. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Talk to me, Goldilocks.” I wind a strand of her hair that’s slipped from her braid around my index finger and tug on it gently before releasing it.
“No, it’s n-nothing, really. I got a text message. It was a wrong number, but still a really weird message.”
“Weird how?”
“Weird like…here.” She thrusts her phone toward me. “Just look.”
I take the phone from her and scan over the screen. My eyes widen at the message before me. I even read it twice to make sure I read it right.
Unknown: I know where you are.
“What in the hell?”
Magnolia shrugs her shoulders.
“You don’t recognize the number at all?” I ask.
“Nu-uh. I’ve only ever lived here and Charleston. I couldn’t even begin to tell you where that area code comes from.”
“Yeah, I’ve never seen it either. Hang on, I’ll Google it.” After unlocking my phone, I tap on the little microphone in the Google search bar and begin speaking after it beeps at me. “Okay, Google, where is area code 617?”
“Area code six hundred seventeen primarily serves Boston, Cambridge, Quincy, and others.”
“You know anyone in Boston?” I ask, just to double-check.
“Nope, not a single soul.” She sounds resolute.
“Good. Hopefully they realize they sent that weird-ass text to the wrong person.”
Chapter Thirteen
MAGNOLIA
It’s been a couple weeks since the fateful weekend I confessed most of my past to Simon, but I’m still guarding some secrets that are close to my heart, telling myself those are for another day.
It’s not that I want to keep things from him, but I know telling him will only change the way he thinks of me, and I’m not ready to lose whatever it is he and I have.
Over the course of the last two weeks, Simon not only taught me how to drive, but also had me added to his insurance. I was worried that since I had a gap in coverage the rates would skyrocket, but somehow Simon was able to get me an affordable price. We argued over how we were going to split the payment—I told him we should each pay our own portion, while Simon argued we should half it down the middle. I told him that wasn’t fair, because he shouldn’t have to pay more than he was paying prior to adding me, and thank the Lord, he finally listened and agreed to my suggestion…though I’m pretty sure he never deposited the cash I gave him for the first month of the policy.
Regardless, it’s something else to hit the road knowing I’m no longer a danger to myself or others. Being able to get up and go whenever and wherever I fancy is the most precious kind of freedom. For that alone, I’m forever indebted to Simon McAllister.
Today, I’m using my newfound freedom to meet the girls for a late afternoon coffee date and a little shopping. I still majorly suck at parallel parking, so I forgo the open spot in front of Dream Beans, our local coffee shop, and head a few blocks down out of the way to a small parking lot. It’s easier, and the walk in the fresh spring air will do me good.
By the time I make it to Dream Beans, little beads of sweat dot my hairline along my forehead. It may only be March, but it’s gearing up to be a brutal spring that’ll only give way to an even hotter summer. I always thought it was hot in Charleston, but South Carolina has nothing on Dogwood, Alabama.
That said, I’d gladly live in the middle of an inferno if it meant Grant couldn’t touch me ever again.
