Then, he leaps off the seat, lands with a grunt, and locks eyes with me—full, deliberate, soul-piercing eye contact.
And shits.
I blow out a breath and sit up, shifting the truck into drive.
“Perfect,” I mutter as I pull onto the road. “Just fucking perfect.
Chapter Six
Knit Happens
Mom: Text me when you’re here. I’ll come out.
Me: Funny how you can suddenly see the screen. It’s a miracle.
Mom: Selective vision, sweetheart. Same way you thought I never saw the crunchy socks under your bed growing up.
Me: I’m leaving.
Kicking one ankle over the other, I cross my arms and lean against the warmth of my truck, taking in downtown Heart Springs to the soundtrack of snores.
The puppy’s curled up on my bench seat like he belongs there, nose tucked under one paw, breathing slow and easy. I opened the windows to air out the stench, but he hasn’t moved since we pulled in, sprawled out like a cowboy after one too many beers.
Downtown is quiet. Quieter than I remember.
I haven’t really been here since before the army. Not more than I have to. Mom and I meet at The Buttered Biscuit sometimes. We say our goodbyes in the parking lot, and I head straight back to Wildwood.
But standing here now, it feels like I’ve been gone a hell of a lot longer than ten years.
Some of the buildings are still going strong and look just how I remember them from childhood—brick and old wood with fresh paint. Others are worn and tattered, like the town’s run out of money or people who care.
Moms favorite place in the world, Thread & Thimble is still on the corner, next to Between the Pages, the old bookstore that used to host summer reading challenges when I was a kid. I won once. Got a free cone from The Frozen Spoon down the block, which is still here, barely bigger than a walk-in closet. Today the door’s propped open, and I can smell freshly baked waffle cones from here.
Across the street, The Shed,Heart Spring’s general store, looks like a barn someone forgot to paint. Only place you can find live bait in the back next to winter socks, and a weird as hell display of collectable rooster figurines up front.
The streets aren’t busy like they used to be. Back when you couldn’t come downtown without running into half your classmates or someone’s grandma who knew you when you were in diapers.
Now it feels like the town’s just trying to hang on.
I glance toward Pine Street. If I turned right, I’d hit The Twisted Saddle, the country bar where I used to waste time during leave. Cheap beer, loud music, and old friends who stayed put while I went and got my ass shot at in someone else’s desert.
A newer coffee shop called Snug As a Mug snags my attention.
White shiplap front, gold lettering on the windows. Looks out of place next to all the brick and weathered wood, but not in a bad way. Just newer—and cleaner. The kind of place that probably does fancy drinks with names I don’t recognize and charges an arm and leg because it’s sugar, dairy, and flavor free.
I smirk. Bet the city-girl social worker would love a place like that. Probably drinks twelve-buck lattes in her Beamer while listening to a podcast about irrelevant celebrity drama.
A shrill bark jolts me from my thoughts. The feral dog’s on his feet, front paws pressed against the dash, tail thumping the door wildly, his attention riveted to the storefront. Following his gaze, I spot my mom through the front window, grinning like I just got back from war as she hustles to the door.
Shoving off the hood, I head across the sidewalk and prepare to open it for her like the gentleman she dragged me up to be, but before I can, it flies open.
From one blink to the next, my mom’s standing an inch before me and Thread and Thimble’s front door is banging shut, the sound ricocheting though my ears.
Stumbling back a step, I gape down at her. “The hell, Mom?”
“What?” She presses her back to the aged wood and blinks innocently at me. “Can’t a mother be happy to see her only son?”
I wait for her to reach out, to hug me, smack a wet kiss to my cheek, or push me aside so she can see the dog, but she doesn’t move at all. In fact, she seems to melt further into the door, eyes shifting all over the place.
