Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,16
knew they all had to think it was odd that I’d chosen to stay. Everyone knew I’d only come to Drum in the first place because I’d had the supreme bad luck to break down outside of town. While I’d been stranded because repairing my car would have cost more money than I had, and more money than it was worth, most people would have called friends or family and asked them to wire them money. I’d hunkered down and hadn’t called anyone.
“You runnin’ from a man, Carly?” he asked gently. “Are you runnin’ from someone who hurt you?”
Tears welled in my eyes. This conversation had taken an unexpected turn and his question caught me by surprise.
“I know you’re runnin’,” he said softly, taking a step closer to me. “All the signs were there, but I never asked because it’s none of my business. But you and Bingham…it all makes sense now.”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” I implored, grabbing his forearm to hold him in place until he agreed. “No one can know.”
He studied me with new eyes, as though seeing me for the first time. “What’s your interest in Lula?” he asked, but then his eyes lit up and he nodded. “You see yourself in her.”
I wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but it served my purpose to let him think so.
“I really need to get back to work, Max,” I said barely above a whisper.
“You’ve got nothin’ to be afraid of, Carly. We take care of our own here.”
He’d told me that before, and despite Bitty’s betrayal, it had largely proven to be true. But would they still consider me one of their own when they learned that almost everything they knew about me was a lie? Suddenly, I was feeling all kinds of vulnerable and exposed.
He must have seen some of my fear, because he wrapped me in a gentle hug and said, “If some man’s comin’ to find you, you need to tell me so we can be prepared.”
The domestic violence angle worked well for my story, so I went with it. Pulling away, I said, “That’s so sweet of you, Max, but he’s not gonna come lookin’ for me. He’s glad to be rid of me.”
His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side as he studied my face, as if trying to determine whether I was being truthful. “You know, your Southern accent slips back in from time to time,” he finally said, then added for good measure, “and it doesn’t sound Georgian. It certainly doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve ever met from Michigan.”
I froze in terror. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why had I let my guard down?
Max grabbed both of my hands and squeezed. “It’s okay, Carly. I don’t care if you really came from Georgia or not. Just know that you don’t have to keep secrets from me.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, but if you ever want to talk, I’m always here.”
“Thanks, Max.” I pushed past him and down the hall to the entrance to the dining room, but instead of turning right to check on my customers, I turned left and went out the back door. I wasn’t ready to put my game face back on just yet.
I made sure the small rock we used to prop the door open was in place so I wasn’t locked out, and pressed my back against the cold brick wall. It was early December, and the air was crisp and cold, giving my body the shock it needed to pull me out of this spiral of dark emotions. The hair on my bare arms stood on end, and I tilted back my head to look up at the cloudless sky. One thing I loved about Drum was the night sky—usually so packed with stars it looked milky, but the rear parking lot lights hid them from view as effectively as city lights did in urban areas. It was easy for the dimmer stars to get lost in the heavens, among a multitude of bright companions. Drum was so small, so secluded from newcomers. I was shining too brightly here, drawing attention to myself.
Maybe it was time to move on.
I didn’t realize I was crying until my cheeks stung from the cold. I lifted my hands to wipe them just as the back door opened and Wyatt came out.
“What are you doin’ out here?” he asked gently.
“I needed a breather,” I said, still looking up at the sky.