“I guess we can try. But how are we supposed to go about it?”
“I can come by your place on my way to the studio tomorrow morning and bring breakfast.” That seemed friendly enough. Plus, her mom was already scheduled to take Liam to school that day. Margot didn’t have to alter her routine to see Zeke. “We can figure out where to go from there. But I’ll be there really early, so don’t sleep in.”
“Do I ever?”
“No, I suppose not.” He was an early riser, a habit that had been formed from surfing. He used any excuse to hit the waves. Sometimes he even paddled out on moonlit nights.
He squinted. “I better go now, before we start arguing again and blow this whole deal.”
“Good call.” She agreed that it was safer for him to leave while they were on a positive note.
She walked him to the door, and the moment turned awkward. He leaned forward to hug her, but then he pulled back, as if it might not be a very platonic thing to do. In their case, he was right to keep his distance. She didn’t need to feel his big, broad body next to hers.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
“You, too.” She watched him descend the steps and retreat to the town car waiting for him.
Was initiating a friendship with him the smartest course of action? She wasn’t altogether sure, but she’d already made the offer, and she was going to follow through.
No matter how difficult it proved to be.
Copyright © 2021 by Sheree Henry-WhiteFeather
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The Road to Rose Bend
by USA TODAY bestselling author Naima Simone!
Pregnant and newly divorced, Sydney Collins returns to her small hometown after swearing she’d never go back again. But maybe reconnecting with her old community will be the fresh start she’s hoping for...
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The Road to Rose Bend
by Naima Simone
CHAPTER ONE
There’s no place like home.
Huh.
Obviously, Dorothy hadn’t gotten out much.
Sydney Collins slowed her car to a stop in front of a picturesque covered bridge as if the reason for Dorothy’s bewildering need to return to boring, sepia-toned Kansas could be found etched into the red-painted boards.
Sydney could still remember sitting in the living room and watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time when she’d been seven years old. While her parents and her sister Carlin had been rooting for Dorothy to click those ruby heels and make it back home, Sydney had jumped to her feet and yelled, “Are you crazy, Dorothy? Keep your ass in Oz!”
Well, her parents hadn’t been too happy with the language—they’d later had words with Uncle Travis about watching his mouth around her—but Carlin, resting in her special recliner, had quietly snickered.
Carlin…
A dusty, too-familiar feeling weaved through Sydney, burrowing deep in her heart. From experience, she knew no amount of meditation, Come-to-Jesus talks or Sunday sermons explaining how “God moves in mysterious ways,” could dig it out.
Sydney’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel until the ridges pressed into her palms. Instead of loosening her grip, she squeezed harder. And harder. The dull throb kept her grounded here, in the present.
God. She hadn’t even crossed over the town line, and already the memories were smothering her, seeking to drag her back.
Well, the past wasn’t exactly dragging her back. As of yesterday morning, when she’d left Charlotte, North Carolina, to start the twelve-hour drive to the Berkshires, she’d willingly returned to her hometown of Rose Bend, Massachusetts.
The hometown she’d vowed—eight years earlier—to never step foot in again.
Had it been only about her, she still might be settled in her Ballentyne condo.
But it was no longer only about her.
Sydney pried a hand loose from the steering wheel and splayed her fingers over her stomach. Seventeen weeks, her doctor had confirmed the day before yesterday.
Love, so deep, so fierce it was terrifying, welled up inside her as it did every time she thought of the tiny, vulnerable person growing inside her. Love and…fear. Oh God, Sydney was scared. Not only for herself, but for the life she would soon be responsible for. On her own. Yes, it was her choice to raise her child as a single mother, but that decision didn’t make the future any less daunting. It didn’t mean she wasn’t questioning if she was doing the right thing.
Shaking her head, as if the abrupt motion could dislodge her doubts, she eased her foot off the brake and guided her Nissan Rogue over the covered bridge. In seconds, she emerged from the dim shadows into the sunlight. Several feet in front of her, off to the side, stood a white sign with a scrolled top and dark green lettering.
Welcome to Rose Bend, MA. Pop. 4, 815. “All are welcome where none are strangers.”
Her heart thudded against her chest. Yes, she’d driven almost 800 miles in the last two days, but not until this moment, with the nose of her SUV nudging the town line, did her stomach plummet into free fall and her pulse short-circuit.
“I’m doing this,” she blurted out, her voice rebounding in the interior like a blow horn. “I’m really doing this.”
Was she reminding herself…or questioning her sanity? Yeah, she had no clue. But with her apartment lease canceled, all her belongings either packed away in storage or piled inside this vehicle, with her ties cut, she had no choice but to go forward. Literally and figuratively. As if to drive home that point, she pressed her foot harder on the accelerator.
The peal of her cell phone ringing through the car speakers jolted her from her thoughts. Sydney glanced at the display screen and grinned at the name above the phone number with the 704 area code. She accepted the call, and a second later, her best friend’s smooth, bayou-rich voice filled the car’s interior.
“Woman, are you there yet? You haven’t checked in since you hit the Massachusetts state line a few hours ago, and you know how I worry. And worry causes me to frown. And frowns cause lines in my forehead. And my next Botox appointment isn’t for another two weeks. So, in order to keep me worry- and wrinkle-free, I need you to call me on a regular basis to let me know you and little Arwen are safe and still Daffodil Corner-bound.”
Sydney snickered. Stephanie Landry was—in a word—dramatic. And gorgeous, bold and a Lord of the Rings fangirl. Hence, her insistence that Sydney’s baby would be named Arwen, after the elf princess, if it was a girl, and Aragorn, the ranger and king, if a boy. Yeah, no way in hell was that happening.
Like Sydney, Stephanie had been a transplant to the Queen City. Her work as a PR rep for the Hornets, the city’s professional basketball team, had brought her to Charlotte from New Orleans six years earlier. From the moment the two women had bumped into each other at The Unknown Brewing Co., a local brewery, they’d become best friends. Maybe the fact that they’d both been seeking a new start in a place far from home had made them kindred spirits. Maybe they’d bonded over raisin beer. Either way, they’d been inseparable. Until now.
Swallowing past the thick knot of loneliness lodged in her throat, Sydney shook her head, ev
en though Stephanie couldn’t see the gesture.
“For the last time, it’s Rose Bend.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Woman, your passive aggressiveness is showing. You might want to clean that up,” Sydney drawled.
Stephanie huffed, and Sydney could easily imagine the gorgeous redhead rolling her eyes. “I admit nothing,” Stephanie said. “And I definitely don’t admit that I might have a ragey vendetta against the supposed oasis of perfection that is stealing my best friend away from me.”
“I never said it was perfection,” Sydney murmured. “Or an oasis.”
Particularly not for her.
Family. Acceptance. A sense of belonging. Those had never been hers to have in her hometown. Hell, there was a very good chance it still might not be hers now. But for her baby, it could be different. The burdens of Sydney’s childhood didn’t have to be her child’s. She wouldn’t let it be.
“Hey,” Stephanie said, her voice softening. Sydney had zero doubts that if she were with Stephanie, her friend would already have her bundled up in one of her tight, Egyptian musk-scented hugs. “I give you shit, but you know I have your back. A hundred percent. Yes, I’m missing you, but you’re doing what’s best for you and baby Arwen. And yes, I might hate on Carnation City, but if you believe it’s where you belong right now, then it’s where you should be.”
Tears stung her eyes, and Sydney blinked against them. Stupid hormones. She’d never been much of a crier—she’d learned at an early age that tears solved nothing—but since she’d been pregnant, they popped up like stray hairs on a chin.
“Thanks, Steph. I swear, one minute I’m certain that I’m doing the right thing. And then the next…” She laughed, but it possessed too much of a sharp edge to be considered humorous. “The next I’m second-guessing every choice I’ve made for the last six months. Was I wrong to divorce Daniel? Should I have remarried him after I found out I was pregnant? Should I have stayed in Charlotte, the place that’s been a home to me for almost a decade? Am I being impulsive? Am I placing my own needs above the baby’s? Am I being—” she paused, then pushed out the last, damning word “—selfish?”
Of all the questions and worries that plagued her, the last one tormented her the most. Her ex-husband Daniel had thrown that accusation at her when she’d rejected his proposal to remarry, and it’d dug beneath skin and bone, excavating old hurts and insecurities. For years, she’d been proud of how she’d matured. She wasn’t the rebellious girl she’d been when she’d left home all those years ago. But with one hurled insult, Daniel had relegated her back to being that teen. Still…
His words wouldn’t have shaken her, if somewhere, in the darkest corner of her heart, she didn’t already question herself.
“Hell no, you’re not selfish! How could you ever think that? Oh wait,” Stephanie snapped, the smooth molasses in her voice hardening to rock-hard toffee. “Lemme guess. Daniel. It sounds like something that would come straight out of his uptight mouth.”
“Steph,” Sydney said, caution invading her tone. “Daniel’s not a bad guy. He’s just…” An image of her ex-husband solidified in her mind’s eye. Tall and lean, skin a beautiful mahogany, his strong, fit body clothed in one of his customary tailored suits with a tie. A handsome, distinguished, successful man who made the perfect dean of students at a prestigious private high school. “He’s just set in his ways,” she finished.
“I love you, babe, but he has a stick lodged so far up his ass, he shits splinters.”
I will not laugh. I will not laugh.
“Oh, just go on and laugh. You know you want to,” Stephanie cajoled, the syrup returning to her voice. “Listen, Syd, Lord knows I’m not an expert on relationships. My idea of one is extending a hookup to a two-nighter. But I have learned this. Whenever anyone—a woman, especially—makes a decision that is beneficial to her but inconvenient to another person, she’s selfish.” She snorted. “Living for yourself, making your own decisions—that doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you strong. Bold. Independent. It’s you. And don’t you forget that. Or let anyone try and convince you differently.”
“That’s just it, Steph,” Sydney protested on a whisper. “I’m not bold or strong. I’m—”
“Scared shitless,” her friend finished softly. “Yeah, I get it. I do, babe. But being afraid doesn’t determine your strength or your courage. Acting in spite of that fear, persevering, pressing forward—that’s courage. It would’ve been easy, comfortable, safe for you to stay in your marriage.”
Yes, it would’ve been, Sydney silently agreed. And all the while, she would’ve slowly suffocated, lost her ambition, her voice—lost herself—as the years passed. That had been the wake-up call for her to walk away from her marriage of almost five years.
And now, she was returning to the place where she’d initially experienced that same sense of drowning. Returning to Rose Bend.
“It takes balls to start over, Syd,” Stephanie continued. “Lady balls. And you, babe, got a brass set.”
Sydney’s bark of laughter sounded a bit waterlogged from the damn tears that refused to go away. Good Lord, she had five more months of this emotional upheaval?
“Thanks… I think.” Clearing her throat, she switched the subject before she started bawling. “So, how’d the meeting with the new sponsor go…?”
For the next ten minutes, they talked about the new client Stephanie was wooing, and Sydney laughed until her stomach hurt over the gossip her friend dished.
“Listen, I have to go. These folks actually want me to work.” Stephanie heaved a dramatic sigh. “You roll up into Gardenia Downs with your head held high and take no shit off anyone. Be good to yourself and give Arwen a rub for me,” Stephanie said.
“Rose. Bend. And you do know, Jesus could stream down here on a golden beam in a chariot pulled by cherubim and I still would never name my baby that,” Sydney drawled.
“Aww,” Stephanie cooed. “It’s so adorable that you think so.”
Before Sydney could reply, her friend hung up, and she chuckled. But the amusement faded as she coasted over a hill and started on the last leg of her long journey.
The Southern Berkshires in mid-June were simply…breathtaking. As much as she resented the place she grew up, she couldn’t deny the beauty of it. Centuries-old trees seemed to preen with their vividly green, lush leaves. Wide fields rolled into hills that were only eclipsed by the majesty of mountains and endless blue sky. As a child, she’d stared up at those great sentinels, imagined they’d been stacked there by lightning-bolt-wielding gods and fierce Titans. And as a teen, she’d studied them, dreaming about what lay on the other side. They’d been her friends, her guardians. And they’d been the only thing she’d waved goodbye to as she’d left Rose Bend eight years ago.
She flicked the A/C dial, switching cold air off, then jabbed the window button. The glass slid down, permitting the outside to blow into her car. Up here, the air didn’t contain the mugginess of the South. Though she’d lived almost a decade in Charlotte, North Carolina, she’d never quite become accustomed to the humidity that clung to her skin like a layer of clothing. Here, though, summer had truly arrived. A high seventies temperature with a fresh breeze that brushed over her skin like a loving caress.
Minutes later, the first house appeared on her left, and soon after she entered a pristine, yet cozy neighborhood of elegant, proud homes. As she rolled to a stop at the intersection, she glanced out her window and gazed at the white, two-story Victorian at the corner. Gorgeous—with a steeply pitched roof, a lovely turreted tower, wide bay windows and a wraparound porch—it was breathtaking, yet still managed to appear homey, welcoming. Perfect for a loving family. A pang of longing echoed in her chest, and she rubbed her knuckles against the ache. She would’ve loved to raise her baby in a house meant to be filled with laughter, joy and affection. Maybe she couldn’t give her that
house, but she could offer her baby the unconditional love of her mother, security and stability.
Deliberately turning away from the house and putting her hand back to the steering wheel, she eased off the brake and continued driving. And as the residential area gave way to more commercial buildings, her guards started rising up. Because while she hoped—prayed—for a nurturing haven for her child, and truly believed she would find it here, she also wanted that for herself, for Sydney “That Girl” Collins. But on that latter point, she knew better. Nothing changed in Rose Bend. Not the houses. Not the town people. Not the opinions. Not the hearts.
Oh God, she’d made a mistake. What the hell had she been thinking returning here? She should turn around right now. It wasn’t too late—
“Stop it, dammit,” she hissed at herself. “Get a hold of yourself and woman-the-fuck-up.”
On autopilot, she steered her SUV to the parking lot adjacent to the small pharmacy that had been a fixture in town for as long as she could remember. A little after five, and only a handful of cars filled the lot. But unlike the city, she didn’t have to worry about her vehicle being towed if she wasn’t a customer. The people of Rose Bend were too polite for any of that “big city” nonsense.
Isn’t that why you’re here? she asked herself as she climbed out of the car. To raise your child in a warmer and safer environment? To give your baby a place where she’s not a passing strange face, but a part of a loving family and community? Yes and yes. While Sydney and her parents had a strained relationship that might be impossible to heal after years of too-cold politeness and stinging disapproval, she believed—had to believe—that they would accept their grandchild. Love their grandchild.
But now that the idea was no longer theory but reality? Well, she would be a liar if she claimed her stomach wasn’t bolting for her throat. And it had absolutely nothing to do with morning sickness.
Hitting the key fob and locking the vehicle, she started off down Main Street. Her parents weren’t expecting her, so she could afford to put off that reunion for a little while. Besides, she needed a minute to herself.
The Rebel Heir Page 18