Edges of Gone (The Gone Series Book 2)

by Jessica Gouin

  I pull the comforter up to my neck as I lay back. It’s colder in here than it was a minute ago.

  “Good night…”

  SIX

  Owen

  I spend the next several hours watching minutes tick by on the clock hanging over the bookshelf. This hard-as-shit mattress digs into my back, and sleeping in this room, on this double size bed, feels completely weird. I’m used to lying next to Sloane in our king size sleigh bed. I miss the warmth of her body nestled against mine.

  The only other time I’ve ever slept in this bed was when Sloane, Sawyer, and I went out to celebrate the grand-opening of Revamped. Chloe had generously offered to come to Sawyer’s house to watch Noah for the evening so we could step out for some fun and not have to worry about him being uncomfortable in someone else’s house. We didn’t leave him often. The three of us hung out practically every day, but we rarely had the opportunity to hit the town as reckless young adults. Once every few months, Sloane’s parents came to stay the weekend with us and we would take off for an hour or so after Noah had gone to sleep, or occasionally Chloe offered her services.

  This had been a rare occasion, and since it was Sloane’s big night, Sawyer and I did all the planning. We started with dinner at Rosey’s, one of the fancier and more expensive restaurants in town. It has a waiting list two weeks long, so I put our name down as soon as Sloane set the grand opening date.

  After our entrees and a few drinks, we headed to The Rooftop, a swanky bar full of douchebags wearing sunglasses indoors and chicks with dresses that fit more like shirts. Sloane loves to dance, and that night was all about celebrating her accomplishments. I was so fucking proud of her for opening Revamped. Nothing ever came easily to any of us, but her talents, the way she’s able to take broken trash someone throws away and transforms it into beautiful pieces of furniture that people want in their home… Well, that comes as easily as breathing to her.

  Sawyer and I propped ourselves on a couple of high bar stools and watched Sloane on the dance floor shaking her ass. Every once in a while, a random dick-face would step behind Sloane, thinking she was fair game. I’d squeeze my way through the hot, sweaty crowd to reassure the guy she was taken. One glare was all it took and he’d be on his way. She would smile seductively at me, trying to hold me to her body to keep me with her, but I hate dancing. I kissed her lips hard then made my way back to our table. The more guys that came up to her, the more I had to step onto the floor. Eventually, when I threw back enough shots that Sawyer was driving into me, I just stayed on the floor. I didn’t have to do much dancing. Sloane did all the work as she pushed her ass into me and ground her hips to the beat in perfect rhythm. I’ll never forget the way she wore her hair pulled up high, her exposed skin damp with sweat. Instinct took over as my tongue flicked out and ran up her neckline. She reached behind her, grabbing a handful of my hair and squeezed. Digging my fingers into her hips, I pulled her closer so she could feel exactly what she was doing to me with her moves. Facing me, she pressed her mouth to mine. When her tongue swept across my lips, it took every ounce of strength I had not to take her right there in the middle of the crowded club. The hunger in her eyes when she pulled away did nothing for the bulge in the front of my jeans.

  “Take me home,” she breathed into my ear, nipping at the lobe.

  I grabbed her hand and lead her back to the table where Sawyer waited.

  “You guys are gross.” Sawyer drained her drink and grabbed Sloane’s purse for her. Sloane giggled, staring up at me with flushed cheeks like I was the only person who held her to the earth.

  We left the club, and it was the longest drive home. It seemed like hours before I had Sloane alone in our house, sprawled across our monstrous bed, red hair fanning around her head like a vixen. The things we did to each other that night are branded into me forever.

  The night of bliss lasted until about an hour after we fell asleep when I woke up instantly regretting those stupid sugary shots my sister made me take. Not much of a drinker, I’d never found the appeal, especially given our family history. As my mouth watered and the room spun, I vowed to remember the feeling of death and swore off drinking for the rest of my life. I spent the next few hours alternating between throwing up in the toilet and collapsing in this spare bed because I didn’t want to wake Sloane.

  She was so angry the next morning when she woke and found herself alone in our bed. She told me she would have taken care of me if I had just told her I wasn’t feeling well.

  I didn’t want my problems to be her burden. Sloane has always been the rainbow after a storm. The light within every darkness I’ve faced. She’s the good parts of me, and I wanted to keep her that way. I didn’t want her to be tainted by my mess.

  I turn around on the mattress that has zero give and face the closed door. She’s twenty feet away but she might as well be a million miles.

  I know what she’s trying to do. I can see the struggle she’s having attempting to get through to me, but I’m in the middle of a tailspin and I can’t stop myself. I can’t slow down. I can’t change direction.

  I can only hang on and hope to make it out of this crash alive.

  SEVEN

  Sloane

  I stand behind the shop counter, trying to make sense of everything around me, but it all seems so strange, so foreign now.

  I knew it would be, but between counting the seconds tick by on my watch and glimpsing at the crack in the laminate flooring where Sawyer accidently tipped over the stool, this is too much. It’s so quiet, even quieter than my house. I checked the front door three times in the last hour just to make sure I had the sign flipped to OPEN. Maybe it’s always this quiet in the mornings and I never noticed because I was always in the back leaving Sawyer out front.

  Two ladies slow down outside the store and peek in the windows. Their eyes scan the inside of my shop. When they spot me, I smile and raise my hand in a friendly wave. They smile back then continue walking on their way right past the entrance door.

  “Dammit.”

  Boredom consumes me, eats at my already frayed nerves. I can’t handle this much silence alone with nothing but my sinister thoughts. They’re dangerous, those thoughts. Not sure how close to the edge they’ll go if I allow them to wander. Working in the back room, designing new pieces for distraction isn’t an option because there’s no one to watch the front of the store. I might stay after closing tonight just to get some work done. Not that I mind staying. It’s better than going home to a house where I’m not wanted. Where no one is waiting for me.

  I lean forward on the counter, resting my chin on the heel of my hand. If I close my eyes, I hear her voice…

  “That is the third time this week,” Sawyer says, entering into the shop with a tray of pumpkin spice lattes in one hand and a bag, of what I’m assuming are pumpkin cream cheese muffins, in the other. October is my favorite month—pumpkin flavored everything!

  Setting the bag and tray on the counter, she laughs while she removes her black sunglasses from her face and places them in her wild, long blonde hair.

  “She asked for your phone number again?”

  “Yes! She’s so adorable though I think next time she offers, I’m just going to take it.”

  “Oh my god, you did not just say that.”

  “My brother is getting married in six months and my best friend is getting married in six months, too. That’s all the people I know, and they’re both tying the knot!”

  I pull the coffees out then toss the tray in the tiny recycle box behind the counter. “Yeah, it doesn’t help they’re marrying each other though, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Talk about kicking a girl when she’s down. That’s okay. I have the only boy I need. I’m brainwashing Noah into never growing up and marrying some girl. No one will love my boy as much as I do anyway. But, if I ever get too lonely, there’s always Chloe’s barista girl.”

  We laugh as we drink lattes during lunchtime, popping pieces of muffins into our
mouths. When we’re finished, I return to my crafting cave so I can finish a crate table Mrs. Hemming ordered last week. This has been our daily routine since the grand-opening. When work is this great, it doesn’t feel like work at all.

  It feels like work today.

  I open my eyes, bursting the memory bubble, causing reality to come flying back in my face.

  Opening the drawer behind the counter, I grab my purse and hang up my black apron Owen bought me for Christmas last year. It has Revamped written in calligraphy on the front. Sawyer got a matching one that I’ve hung in my crafting cave this morning.

  Maybe if I can go to Chloe’s and get my usual order all on my own, it will break the comfort of routine and the ache in my chest will slowly lighten.

  I don’t see Chloe anywhere while I wait in line in the café. I’d hoped she’d be here today so I could thank her again for her visit a few days ago. A familiar face and a soothing voice would have gone a long way on a day like this.

  “Hi there, what can I get for you?” A brunette girl with a tan apron smiles from behind the counter, and my mind goes instantly blank.

  What the heck did we normally get?

  Another barista passes behind the girl waiting for my order. “It’s okay, Scarlet. I’ve got this one. Can you grab the next customer?”

  “Sure, Immy.” She smiles politely at me before calling out to help the next person in line.

  “Hey, you own Revamped down the street, right?”

  I nod, unable to find words. This is her. The young barista that used to flirt with Sawyer. Her name is Imogen, or so says her name tag on the breast of her apron. Her tone seems unhappy. Did Chloe tell her what happened with Sawyer and why the shop has been closed for a month? It never occurred to me before this moment other people in town may have heard what happened in Woodsview. Are the versions they heard factual, or has it been more like the telephone game? When the story finally reaches the last person, there’s no trace of the truth left.

  “Can I get you what Sawyer normally ordered?”

  I nod again, still not able to remember what the hell my best friend used to order for us. The barista turns to make my order.

  “She asked for your number again?”

  “Yes! She’s so adorable I think the next time she offers I’m just going to take it.”

  “I wish it was October. I know how much you both liked pumpkin, but this is just as good, trust me.” She cuts through my thoughts, sliding a cup and small bag toward me on the counter. “It’s on the house today.”

  I glance up from my purse, and my gaze locks on her water-filled blue eyes. My heart pulls seeing this young girl’s sadness over Sawyer’s death.

  Two guys behind me laugh loudly, startling me from my thoughts, and I knock over the cup. It rolls off the counter and lands on the floor, lid bursting opening and liquid pouring out onto the tiles.

  “Oh god, I’m so, so sorry,” I mumble as I frantically grab napkins off the table next to me, dropping to my knees on the floor to clean my mess.

  Imogen comes around from behind the counter and crouches beside me, stilling my wildly dabbing hands. Tears sting my eyes as my face heats, and a pickling sensation peppers my skin. Everyone falls quiet, all eyes fixed on me—the girl whose life is literally falling apart within her hands.

  “Don’t even worry about this. Honestly, it’s okay. Look at me.”

  I stop wiping my mess and make my eyes flicker up. The empathy billowing off of makes me want to curl into the fetal position and cry.

  “It’s okay,” she repeats.

  The air seems to evaporate in here, I can’t breathe. No matter what this young girl may be trying to say to me, this certainly is not okay. None of this will ever be okay.

  What was I thinking coming in here? Did I honestly expect my life to right itself once more because I did something Sawyer used to do? Breaking routine doesn’t have the impact I thought it would, but rather quite the complete opposite.

  Guilt and sadness squeeze my lungs, forcing me to leave this stifling building.

  Fresh air, I need fresh air.

  Rising from my knees, I keep my eyes down to the floor and make a break for the exit. Someone calls my name, but I don’t stop or turn around. I scurry across the street, not bothering to check for traffic. Once inside my shop, I latch the deadbolt and sink to the floor. Pulling my knees to my chest, I tuck my chin in and cry.

  Before my sobs turn into the ugly, snot gushing, hiccupping cries, I take in three controlled, deep breaths slowly through my nose and blow them out of my mouth. Once again, I rise from the floor, brush off my clothes, straighten my shoulders, and turn to open my shop for business.

  I startle at the sight of a man standing on the other side of the glass door. He sees my shock and mouths an apology, then grins so slightly, yet the happiness reaches up to his sapphire eyes. He seems oddly familiar, but I can’t place where I might have met him. I quickly rub my fingers under my eyes and hope my makeup isn’t smudged over my face. Although I’m sure there’s no hiding my emotional state right about now.

  Taking a step back to give him room, he pushes the door open and steps inside.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Mrs. Matthews.”

  A nerve-laden chuckle rushes up my throat. “No. no, it’s my fault, I— Mrs. Matthews?”

  “I’m Officer Nash Hudson. We met the other day at the police station with Detective Varnum. I recognized you at the café just now. I umm…I brought this for you.” He hands me a coffee cup I didn’t realize he was holding. The smell of Chloe’s signature house blend instantly fills me.

  “Oh, right, of course. I remember you now. Thank you for this, that’s very kind of you.” Though I say these words on the outside, on the inside, the fact he witnessed my breakdown utterly mortifies me. He looks totally different without his uniform on. His build appears bigger in street clothes. His cap hides most of his hair, but the blond ends stick out around the edges, curling up.

  “No need to thank me. Actually, I’m here for completely selfish reasons. I wanted to make sure you were okay after what just happened back there in the café. I know this case has a lot of folks frazzled. I can only imagine how hard it must be for the people closest to it. To her, I mean.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a very selfish reason to bring a stranger coffee. Either way, thank you again.”

  He shrugs and smiles while he looks around my shop, walking a few steps farther inside. Something about him seems so oddly familiar and not because we met the other day.

  He turns and catches me staring at him, and, much to my embarrassment, he grins. My face instantly heats, and flashes of warmth run down my chest. I clear my throat, turning away from his stare to put my purse back inside the drawer behind the counter.

  He strolls around the small space inside my shop a little more, then comes to the counter and leans his forearm against it. “How long have you worked here?”

  “I’m the owner. But, I have a feeling you already knew that.”

  He smiles as he pushes off the counter. “You’re right. I did know that. I’m really terrible at small talk.” He glances around, and when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a spark in them. I wish my life was as comfortable as this guy appears standing inside a store that contradicts everything about him. My shop is homey with obvious feminine touches. This off-duty officer is all man. Hard, built, solid man with rough edges.

  “Have you eaten?”

  Well, that took a turn. “Ah, no but umm—”

  “Come on.” He nods towards the door and winks like we’re old buddies sharing an inside joke. If I hadn’t been one hundred percent positive I look like utter crap at this moment, I would think he’s hitting on me.

  “Oh, no. Thank you anyway. It’s just me here, and I can’t really close up again so…”

  His focus shifts around us then he leans forward again. “I mean no offense, but there are literally no customers in this store. You can lock up for
a thirty minutes and no one would ever know. There’s a pub around the corner. Honestly, I’m being selfish again. I don’t like to eat alone.”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “I’m Officer Hudson. Nash, actually.” He extends his arm for us to shake hands. When I place my hand in his, it all but disappears in his bear-like claw.

  Nash Hudson.

  Food doesn’t sound very appetizing; however, I sure could use a tall drink. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right? Besides, Nash is the first person who hasn’t stared at me with sympathy so smothering it restricts my airways.

  Once more this morning, I open the drawer to retrieve my purse, and grab my sweater, and keys.

  “Half hour.”

  I take the small chalkboard hanging on the window, erase closed and write back at noon. Nash holds the door open for me, and we make the short walk to the pub down the street.

  The thing I love most about this city is that it carries a small-town feel without actually being a small town. It’s no metropolis, but it’s big enough to become unrecognized to passersby’s which is nice sometimes. Especially after moving from Woodsview where every place you visited people who knew practically everything about you greet you. Sounds nice in theory to have a place where everyone knows your name. But it doesn’t take long to become annoying when you want to leave the house with no makeup and can’t because you might run into your ex-boyfriend.

  Most of the businesses in the touristy part of this city are homes that have been turned into stores. Most owners live above their stores. Unfortunately, the stretch of stores that Revamped neighbors are commercial buildings. I would love to find the perfect location to turn a home into my new shop one day.

  The pub we enter has the feel of a home-turned-establishment. The outside seems like any ordinary older home, except for the large patio stretching all the way to the back. The vines covering the lattice used for the patio roof, trickle down the sides and provides a bit of privacy from the street. Inside, a small bar sits far back and to the left, a steep staircase in the middle of the area leads to sitting areas, and a dining area lays to the right. Old pictures of famous celebrities and collectables cover the walls. I make a mental note to come back to speak with the owner about some custom pieces I always thought would look great in here.