Southern Chance - Natasha Madison Page 0,36

not hungry,” I tell the table. “Rain check.”

“Yeah, of course,” Beau says, and I get up. “I’ll call you later.”

“Yeah,” I say and walk out of the diner toward my truck. I sit in the driver’s seat and put the key inside. My head throbs as my chest feels crushed, so I go to the only place that calms me. I park the truck in my secret spot and make my way down to the creek. The place that calms me yet breaks me equally.

My mind feels like it’s going to explode with all the memories rushing back. All the memories—good, bad, sad, ugly—replay in my head like a movie.

The first time I kissed her. Her telling me that she loved me the first time. The first time I made love to her. The first time we got into a fight and she threw me out of her house. The first time I came crawling back. The first time she woke up in my arms. The last time I kissed her, right before our world got taken from us. The last time I saw her here was with tears streaming down her face.

I’m almost at the creek when I spot him. Someone who is definitely not from here. He stands with his jeans and leather jacket on as he takes pictures. I watch him for a bit, and then he takes out his phone and does something on it. I take out my own phone and snap a picture of him.

As I step out into the clearing, the branches snap under my feet, getting the guy’s attention. His black hair is pushed all the way back, his eyes in surprise that someone should be here. “Can I help you?” I ask, and he changes now.

He laughs nervously. “Not really. I think I’m lost. I was …” He turns around and pretends to be looking at something. “On a hike and I must have taken the wrong turn.”

“Yeah, those trails are tricky.” I play into his story even though there are no fucking trails anywhere in this town. “You should really have brought a guide with you.”

“Yeah, I should have,” he says, looking down at his feet, and I notice he’s wearing Chucks.

“Where you from?” I ask, trying to reel him in.

“Oh, I’m a West Coast boy,” he says. “Figured I’d get away to clear my head.”

“Well, you came to the right place,” I say, “but this is private property.”

“Really?” He acts shocked. “I didn’t know.”

I shrug. “Let me help you to your car,” I say, and he nods at me.

“Do you remember where you parked?”

“I think a little over that way.” He points to the path that leads to the road.

“Well, let me escort you there.” I hold out my hand and wait for him to walk in front of me.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me.

“It’s my pleasure.” I smile tight, and I take him to his car that is parked on the side of the road. I make a mental note of his license place, but I have no doubt it’s a rental.

“Well, thank you,” he says, unlocking his car door. “People in the South are so trusting.”

“That’s what we make you believe,” I say. “People in the South also shoot first and ask questions later.”

He laughs nervously, getting into his car. “I didn’t get your name.”

“You didn’t,” I say. “I didn’t get yours either.”

“Dwayne,” he says.

“Nice to meet you, Dwayne. You have a safe journey home.” I turn and walk back to the creek, stopping and turning to see which way he drives. When I see him pull off, I run to my truck, getting in and calling Monica.

“I need you to run this plate,” I say, shouting off the number.

“I’ll call you when I get the information,” she says. I hang up and call the one man I have spent the past eight years avoiding.

“What now?” he answers.

“Five minutes, your parents’ house.” I don’t even wait for him to respond before I toss my phone on the passenger seat. Pulling up to Kallie’s house, I stop the truck and grab my phone. I look around to see if I see anything when I walk to the door. I don’t have to knock when the door swings open and a pissed-off Casey is there. He walks out and closes the door behind him.

“She’s been home two days. Two and every single time she turns around she’s hit with the