Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,12

was my friend, and one of the few people I trusted without reservation.

“You’ve got more money than God at this point, Nick. You’re part of a community that appreciates you and all you try to do. If you haven’t figured out how to be content with that, I don’t know that there’s anything I, or anyone, can say to you. I don’t know what else you’re looking for. I hope you find it, man. You know where to find me if you need anything. Bye.”

He hung up.

I sat, phone still clenched against my ear, caught in the echoing vacuum of silence. I lowered the phone to the table and turned to stare out the rain-spotted window. Beyond was the same narrow two-lane road Zora and I had walked all those years ago. The same crack I’d taken care to avoid as a kid still zigzagged across the sidewalk. It was all the same—as if I had never left.

I’d never told Eddie about this town or my life in it before we met. Never told him how being scared and helpless as a kid made me crave stability, predictability. Being in control. And being back here reminded me all too well how it felt to be that kid again.

God, I needed to get out of this town before I lost my mind.

“Alright.” Rebecca’s voice sounded from the side, and I looked up in time to see her slide a plate of assorted glazed doughnuts under my nose. A cup of hot cider followed. “It’s on me,” she said with a wink. “Even though you’re bigger than the Badcock’s barn.”

I stared at her. Mr. Badcock had a tiny hen house.

“Oh honey, Badcock replaced that henhouse with something much larger and fancier—a huge, gorgeous, modern barn. That’s what I’m talking ‘bout.” She hit me on the shoulder.

“Ah. Okay.”

The waitress leaned a hip against the opposite side of the booth. “You were always tall, but it’s like you just . . .” Her eyes widened. “Hulked out.”

I laughed lightly and took a bite of doughnut. It was damn good. It tasted like home, but the good memories. “I guess I did, Miss Rebecca. Haven’t heard it put quite that way before, but it sounds pretty accurate.”

“You remind me of that stripper in the movie. The really big one? Dark hair?”

I coughed. “Uh, stripper?”

One corner of her mouth went up in a sly smile. “Don’t sound so shocked. I might look like an old lady to you, but this girl’s still got a little oil left in her can.”

I choked down the bit of doughnut caught in my windpipe.

What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

“You must take after your daddy’s people,” she said, lips pursed as she considered me with that same sideways tilt of her head. “God knows your mama was a tiny thing.”

There was nothing I could offer in response, and I didn’t have a mind to try. Unbidden, the voice of the town’s resident gossip, Karen Smith, came to mind: “Do we even know who their people are?”

“Well, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re back. And I’m glad you had an opportunity to connect with Zora. I know she and her family must have been so happy to see you.”

Seeing no need to correct her assumption, I only nodded, shoving more doughnut in my mouth so I couldn’t answer.

“It’s funny the way life turns out, isn’t it? Zora and Jackson James are about to be married, and you look like you’re doing well for yourself. You got a sweetheart, wherever you settled?”

Wait.

. . .

WAIT.

What. The. Fuck.

I braced my hands on the table, gulping down the entire mouthful of doughnut. “What did you say?”

Because there was no way she’d just said what I just thought she said.

Something in my eyes made her take a step back. “What, Zora and Jackson? They’ve been together for a minute now. They look so cute together. Both come from good stock.” She gave a meek, apologetic shrug. “Families like each other, seems like a good match.”

Come from good stock. Families like each other. Good match.

Fuck this town.

Chapter Four

Zora

“Oh, my God. Finally!”

I jumped back at the shouted words. The front door to my house suddenly swung inward before I had a chance to use my key. My work bag slipped from my shoulder and weighted the bend of my arm before it hit the porch with a heavy thud. I released my grip on the storm door, winced at the pulled