The planked walkway underfoot muffled each of my footsteps, amplifying the sound of my breathing. I hesitated when I closed in on the front door. Tiny beads of moisture dotted the cream-colored paint on the paneling in an imbalanced pattern, and the beveled edges of wood were warped from relentless seasons of wet Washington air. Most saw Steele Falls as harmless. I saw Steele Falls as a smothering blanket of danger, threaded with stitches of intimidation.
I realized the sticky note wouldn’t adhere to the damp door, but it might cling to the peephole if I placed it carefully. Way to plan. You should’ve brought tape. Glue. A stapler. Peanut butter. Anything! I reached out and tried to cover the tiny bubble of glass, but my shaky hands sabotaged me. My thumb accidentally nudged the doorbell directly beneath.
Ding. Dong.
Damn.
Reality socked. Hard. What gives, thumb? Traitor. For that alone, I should’ve sent Zoe a thumbs down earlier. Why aren’t there bushes to dive into? If I could’ve gone back in time, I’d be in Maui. Can I make it to the Jeep and drive off before he gets to the door? The only warm welcome I expected entailed Miles throwing fire at me in the open doorway. Well, way to go, Nash. It’s too late to back down from your dumbass idea now.
Wait! My ears pricked. Nothing. That meant there was a chance no one was home— I could leave, putting the entire shituation behind me. As I creased the sticky note into quarters, hurried footsteps on the other side of the door startled me. The tiny square of yellow paper slipped from my fingers and was whisked away in the breeze.
A sleepy woman cracked the door open a few inches, squinting into the morning daylight. After assessing me for a few seconds, she widened the gap. It revealed her frame in full view. If I had to guess, she was in her mid-twenties. Velvety, tanned skin complemented her bright green eyes. She wore her hair down, the tips hanging to the middle of her back, a few loose locks draping over the front of her left shoulder. I dreamt of waking up with my mop still intact like her sea of blonde and toffee-colored ringlets.
A short, silk robe in red gripped her itty-bitty waist. The thin material did little to confine her boobs, though. As hard as I tried not to look, it was impossible to not notice.
In an attempt to fully open her eyes, she blinked a few times. “Can I help you?” she asked with a raspy voice.
My cheeks tingled with heat, and I didn’t need to ask to know their shade of crimson matched her outfit. “I… err… is Miles here?”
The name jolted her awake. “Seth?”
“Uhh. Yeah…”
“Why?” she asked slowly, the corners of her mouth sagging.
I didn’t answer. Use the eject button, Jade. Save yourself. The plane’s going down, and you’re about to crash. There is zero explanation for you to be here now.
Even though reflective sunglasses and a baseball cap shielded me, she studied my face for longer than what felt comfortable. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think so,” I said quickly. The little confidence I held deflated. “Maybe this is a mistake.”
“Oh, it’s not.” She walked away and left the door hanging wide open. “Hang on a sec.”
I stood on the porch, waiting, wondering if I should leave. Never speaking of the trip again sounded like the best option. Lips zipped. If I escaped, it was a promise to myself, and I’d take it to the grave. But instead of running, I courageously stood my ground.
The only proof time moved forward was a wall clock hanging in the entryway. Its pendulum rhythmically swayed right and left. Back. Forth. The second hand made sluggish revolutions. Nearly three painful minutes had passed.
Finally, she returned with paperwork in her delicate grip and held it out to me. “Sorry it took so long. Here you go.”
I looked at her and then glanced down. “I don’t understand.”
“Take it.” She jutted her hand forward another inch.
Reluctantly, and knowing I’d regret it later if I declined, I reached for the papers and turned them over. On the bottom, an unopened envelope was addressed to Miles Seth McCullough with a post office box listed in the upper left corner. No name or business title accompanied it.
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“You tell me.” She leaned against the frame of the doorway and folded her arms. “He took off a few days ago without a word.”
I looked down at a rectangular piece of paper clipped to the envelope. A check. Again, I stood in a fog of confusion. “I’m…” My body stiffened in shock when I saw the amount made out to Lucy Thompson. Almost twenty thousand dollars. The subject line read “eighteen months rent.” Miles’s name was sloppily scribbled on the signature line as “Seth McCullough.” “Sorry. I didn’t know he lived with someone. He’s not so open with… anything.”
She laughed out her nose. “Sounds about right. How do you know Seth?”
“We’re… um… new friends, I guess.” New friends? What the fresh hell does that mean, Jade?
“Lemme give you a tip.” Lucy tightened the sash of her robe and crossed her arms again. “I call him Rib Cage.”
My bewilderment spoke for itself.
“You get it, right?” One corner of her mouth barely lifted, as if she pitied me. “His heart, it’s under lock and key. No one gets in. No emotions get out. So, if you’re telling me the truth, and you two aren’t boning,” she paused, “and you’re ‘new friends,’” she used air quotes, “don’t go thinking you can take it to the next level. You’ll one hundred percent get hurt. Trust me to know.”
Cue silence.
Lucy sighed. “Anyway, I assume you’ve seen that prick more than I have lately. Do me a favor and give him that check, would you? He’ll know what it means.”
“Um. Sure.” I glanced down at a distinct “VOID” scrawled across the entirety of the paper. She’d traced over it many times and hard enough to feel the letter indentations on the back.
“You know, just because he and I had a special arrangement, it didn’t mean he could pack up and ghost me. I make more than enough money as a sex therapist to afford this place on my own, but I choose not to live lonely.”
“He moved out?” I blurted.
“You didn’t know?” She gave me another sympathetic look and shook her head. “Be careful who you get involved with, mystery girl. He’s trouble.”
Before I said anything more, she closed the door in my face. The sound of the deadbolt engaging told me I’d overstayed my welcome.
My head hurt. My stomach ached. My shoulders and neck pinched with tension. The swim I desperately needed was over an hour away. “Thanks?” I said quietly to the peephole.
Was Miles living a double life? He already had two names, so the idea wasn’t farfetched. Why did he move out? And without saying a word? Why would he leave her so much money? Did he feel guilty? Was he cheating on Lucy? Or two-timing Sienna? Or both?
I glanced between the envelope and voided check a few more times before burying them both deep into my tote bag. My symbolic effort didn’t work, and my queasiness tripled in size. As much as I hated Steele Falls, I needed to clear my head, and the beach was only two hundred feet away. More and more, I reconsidered what Lucy said— Miles was trouble.
The deeper I dove, the darker everything became. It compared to drowning. Each time any drop of redemption washed up in Miles’s favor, a wave of assholery crashed over it. My compassion for Sienna and Lucy grew that day. A lot. Lucy may have called him Rib Cage, but the spray paint on his truck didn’t lie. Miles was trash. There I stood, feeling ill while harboring second-hand guilt over his mistakes.
Halfway between the boardwalk and the water, I found a piece of driftwood and plopped down on its blunt surface, staring out at the roaring ocean. As much as I didn’t want to make the phone call, I needed advice. And I only trusted one person to lay it out truth
fully.
I reached for my cell and stared at the dark screen, debating the likelihood of a Roxy reprimand. My options were limited. Fast Eddie and his trouser chili texts wouldn’t help me. I dialed Roxy’s number and she answered on the third ring.
“Aloha!” she sang happily. “How are you?”
“I’m all right.” I reached down and grabbed a handful of dry sand, rubbing the cold grains between my fingertips.
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I countered, trying to remain upbeat.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I hear wind. How’s the cove?”
“I’m not at the cove.”
“Where are you? I hear trash pigeons, too.”
I glanced up at a few seagulls treading air. “The beach… in Steele Falls.”
“Whoa! Who is this?”
I glared. “Don’t be snarky.”
“The phone number says it’s Jade Nash, but it can’t be you,” she joked. “The Jade Nash I know doesn’t do Steele Falls. Ever.”
I changed the subject. “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”
“Shoot.”
“If Will cheated, would you want to know?”
She slashed her voice to near nothing, “What are you saying?”
“No… it’s hypothetical, remember?”
“Jade, if you know something…”
“Hai-puh-theh-tuh-kl,” I overenunciated.
“Okay, I would ‘hai-puh-theh-tuh-klee’ reach down his throat, grab his nad satchel, and pull it through his nose, tying it off in a fancy bow— like they do at that craft booth during Christmastime.”
“Fascinating visual, but that wasn’t the question. Would you want someone to tell you? Would how, when, or who told you make a difference?”
“I mean, yeah. It’d break girl code to not say anything. And when? I dunno. You sure Will didn’t do something dumb?”
“It’s not Will.” I slid off the driftwood and sank down onto the sand.
“Think about it this way. What Nate and Z—”
“Ah!” I cut her off.
“I owe you a buck twenty-five, I know. Put it on my tab. I’m just saying, look at what they did to you. Don’t you wish someone would’ve told you what you were walking into before it turned into a dumpster fire?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but she was right. Once again, Roxy told me what I needed to hear.
“What’s this about?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but it’s a long story. Go. Enjoy getting lei’d. We’ll talk about it later.”
After we exchanged brief goodbyes, I put my phone away and rumbled a half-scream toward the sky. The rabbit hole did me zero favors. How would I tell Sienna her boyfriend had a girlfriend in another town?
On the way back to my Jeep, I acknowledged hunger pangs paired with lightheadedness. I’d been so eager to complete my mission, I skipped breakfast. My planning was abysmal. I’d eaten my glove compartment protein bar at work on Tuesday. Plus, all I’d scarfed the day before was an apple and a mummified cheese puff. From past visits, I knew that end of town didn’t have any fast food drive-thrus. But I knew of one restaurant nearby. The Fill & Spill— a shabby diner by day and dive bar by night. It’d be quick, and I could hurry back to Cannon Cove. As much as I didn’t want to stick around town, my stomach argued.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the empty parking lot. The brick building still housed a massive split along the roof I remembered well. Blinking neon letters sizzled and crackled overhead on a spinning sign high above the sidewalk. Their curvy, red font made me feel like I got in a time machine and visited the ‘50s. Always did. I crossed the gravel lot and approached the frosty glass doors. The smell of old grease and spilled beer were the first to greet me. Memories.
The bar was a ghost town. Everything looked the same as I’d remembered, minus the crowd. Same mechanical bull perched in a severe downward angle— without a rider. Same microphone stored in its respective stand on the stage— without a singer. Same beer pong table stood vacant— without drunken frat boys cheering. Same Jade Nash— without the boyfriend on her arm.
A bartender glanced up at me, his focus heavily on wiping the stem of a wine glass with a faded towel. Chocolate-colored hair grazed his shoulders, a few shorter sections hanging over his eyes. A metal nametag read “Santi” on his button-up shirt. When I heard the foreign emphasis cuddling his English, I remembered him.
“Have a seat.” He gestured toward the row of unoccupied bar stools. Santi’s Italian accent was as thick as the muscles spanning his broad shoulders. The thin sleeves strained against his biceps when he moved his arms, the fitted bottom tucked into a pair of snug blue jeans. He belonged on a tropical beach wearing a speedo, not slinging booze at a hole-in-the-wall bar nestled deep in the armpit of Washington. A smile showcased child-like dimples that challenged his macho facial features. “Drinking lunch alone?”
“Something like that,” I replied.
“Isn’t that a cardinal sin?” He slid a single-sided menu across the counter toward me with his fingertips.
“Not that I recall, but maybe I need an updated list.” Without looking down, I reached out and gently pushed it right back with my palm. “Number seven. Grilled cheese and fries. Add tomato.” Nervousness slapped me across the face. You’re new here, remember? Act like it. I adjusted my sunglasses and tugged the bill of my denim-colored ballcap down another fraction of an inch. “And water. On the rocks.”
“The hard stuff.” He laughed. “Rough day, gorgeous?”
You have no idea.
“You been in here before?” He cocked his head to the right and pushed his shoulders back with confidence. The cleft in his chin appeared more prominent under the pendant lights of the bar.
“Nope. Fill & Spill virgin,” I lied.
“I guess you have one of those pretty faces everyone wants to remember.” He winked and set a glass of water in front of me.
He may have been bilingual, but the man’s primary language was flirting. My cheeks flushed. “Thanks.”
Santi went back to wiping down glassware, so I buried my nose in a website full of national news stories on my phone. Focus. I needed the right article to lure me in. Anything was better than replaying the visit to Lucy’s in my head.
Mysterious dog born with purple fur found in Nebraska. Not going to work.
A hurricane spun its wheels off the coast of Florida. Nope.
Salon hostage situation ended with a high-speed taco truck chase. Not cutting it.
Grocery store employee identifies check fraud criminal. Ugh.
Check.
There it went. Even when absent, Miles McCullough found me. Immediately, I remembered the paperwork in my tote bag. Captivating my attention was impossible… or so I thought. But the universe had a penchant for proving me wrong.
A male whispered into my ear, “You must be a magician. When I see you, everyone else disappears.”
My mouth felt dry, the chilled echo of an ice cube remaining on my tongue as I fought to remember how to swallow. The news articles were long forgotten, and fear knotted inside me.
Should’ve stuck with the plan, Jade. Straight. Back. To. Cannon. Cove.
I spun the stool around slowly with the rubber soles of my tennis shoes fixed against the footrest, my eyes slowly traveling upward behind the tinted lenses until I peeked over the top of them. The man wore jeans and a corduroy blazer with a thin V-neck sweater in muted gray underneath. It looked ultra-soft to the touch, but no amount of money could convince me to find out.
“Nice back-handed compliment, considering the bartender and I are the only ones here,” I said.
“You know that was a great line.” He held out his arms
in gesture of a hug.
My unchanged posture turned him down.
“Okay. I see where you’re coming from.” He appeared thoughtful and braced his left hand against the lip of the bar— trapping me on one side. “I think you’re suffering from lack of vitamin me. Better?”
I’d officially overstayed my welcome in Steele Falls. The universe took matters into its own hands, telling me to GTFO. Message received.
“Not really. What do you want, Zack?” I grabbed my tote, ready to make a mad dash.
“There’s no reason to rush off, baby.”
“Don’t call me ‘baby.’ That privilege died long ago.”
“You colored your hair.” He reached over and adjusted my hat a fraction of an inch “I like it.”
“I needed change in my life.” Thanks to you.
Zack leaned in closer, the tangy spice and citrus scent of his aftershave overpowering me. Steely gray eyes stared into mine, and uninvited memories lunged for attention. “Did you come to check out my latest work down by the waterfront? Those buildings are talk of the town.”
I swallowed and pushed the sunglasses higher up the bridge of my nose. “Actually, I was just leaving.”
“One grilled cheese with fries for the Fill & Spill virgin.” Santi approached from behind the bar with my order in his hand.
Your timing blows, Santi!
“Virgin?” A ball of laughter exploded from Zack. “You?”
I glared as the bartender set a red basket down in front of me. A sandwich with diagonal grill marks teetered on a mountain of steaming fries. Globs of cheddar had dribbled over the sides of the bread and firmed, blanketing pieces of flaky crust. It looked delicious to my starving eyes, but my stomach flip-flopped. No longer hungry.
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