He ran his hand over his face again, his gaze meeting mine, his smile slipping as he watched me stare at him.
Behind me, I heard Betty’s soft voice rise and fall as she narrated the scene for Burt.
“You did this for me. Why?”
He paused, as though the question had caught him off guard and he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. “Because that’s what friends do.”
I felt a small drop inside me but shrugged it off, the fear from a moment before lifting.
Travis’s face went very serious, water droplets catching the sun and shimmering in his thick, dark lashes, highlighting those unusual whiskey-colored eyes. God Almighty, but he was beautiful. “And also,” he said softly, “because I wanted to say I was sorry. For what I did…with Gage. The possums. Ticks. You know.”
I couldn’t help laughing. How could my heart not soften at that? “You’re forgiven.” He’d saved my plants. He’d done it just for me. “How’d you find them, anyway?” I asked, nodding to the dripping line of greenery…or…brownery as the case may be.
“I put out an APB. And I hung official police department flyers on bulletin boards all over town.”
I grinned and so did he. For a few moments, we stood there smiling inanely at each other, my shoes saturated by the running hose still held at my side.
Behind me, Betty’s voice had lowered, almost to a whisper, and when I glanced back, Burt had a dreamy smile on his face.
I looked back at Travis. Were we ever going to discuss that kiss?
Or was it unnecessary? A one-time deal chalked up to…anger stirred up to a mostly incoherent breakdown that had then flared to some form of passionate temporary insanity?
Travis raised his head and squinted to where Betty and Burt stood, lifting his hand and giving them a small wave and then returning his gaze to me. “So, um, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d like to come with me to the blueberry festival tomorrow.”
The blueberry festival? Oh, right, the one Clarice was in town for and I’d heard mention of at the club.
“As friends,” he clarified, as though my pause may have indicated I was wondering if he was asking me on a date. He’d said that about Gage’s party though too. The one where we’d kissed, and done…nonfriendly things.
I released a small breath, ignoring that. “A whole festival surrounding…blueberries?”
He grinned again. My God, that grin. Those eyes. The dents in his cheeks. That stubborn jaw.
Some insanely ridiculous idiot had cheated on this man…with my brother.
He’d been hers and she’d let him go.
Right. Friends.
He nodded behind me to the house. When I glanced back, I saw that Betty and Burt were no longer there. “Clarice will be there,” Travis said. “I bet the whole crew will be.”
The crew. “We have a crew?”
He laughed. “For better or worse, for now, yeah, I think we have a crew.”
I laughed too but something about that made a flush of happiness warm my insides. A crew indicated…belonging. Even if temporary.
“Most of the town will be there,” Travis said. “My brother will give a speech. In sign language. His voice box was injured when he was a kid.”
“Oh.” I frowned, adding that small nugget to what I already knew about Travis’s family. “How sad.”
Travis shrugged. “Everyone is used to it now. Most of the town speaks sign language, as does his family, even my six-year-old nephews. They had this group class at the high school about six years ago. They had to move it into the gymnasium it was so crowded.” I smiled softly. He was babbling and I wasn’t sure exactly why, but it was very endearing coming from Chief Hale, the picture of masculine law and order, even if he was standing there in a sopping uniform.
“You live in a really nice town,” I noted. I’d already experienced the kindness of so many strangers in Pelion, but it told me even more about who they were collectively that they’d all shown up to learn the singular language of one community member.
He almost looked surprised by my comment, pausing for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah I—we, that is—really do.”
I nodded and our gazes lingered for another moment. I had this foreboding feeling that attending things like blueberry festivals with the town’s handsome chief of police and our crew was going to make it that much more difficult to drive out of town in less than two months. I should decline. I should stay in and read. I should clean out my car. It needed a good detailing after weeks of being on the road before we’d arrived in this lake town, not to mention my propensity for transporting things packed in dirt.
And also considering my brother may or may not be sleeping in it.
“Sure,” I finally said. “I’d love to go to the blueberry festival with you.”
***
What did one wear to a blueberry festival?
Something…summery, no doubt as it was…well, summer. The season of blueberries.
I rifled through my suitcase sitting open on the luggage rack under the window. I had a strict no unpacking policy, a policy that discouraged ideas about settling in or growing too comfortable in one place but, unfortunately, encouraged a constantly wrinkled wardrobe.
Would blue make me look like I was trying too hard?
You are trying too hard, Haven.
With a huff of frustration at myself, I pulled the blue sundress over my head, smoothing out the creases as best as I could.
A knock sounded at my door, and in response, I smiled, rushing forward and then pausing, opening it slowly. “You’re—”
It was my brother.
“Early.” I withered. “Hey, Easton. I thought you’d already left for work.”
He came in, throwing himself on my bed. “No, I don’t have to work until noon today.”
“Oh,” I said, closing the door slowly. “Okay.” I glanced at the clock. If he was punctual, Travis wouldn’t be knocking on my door for ten minutes. “You’ve been scarce,” I said to my brother, leaning a hip against the—empty—dresser. “Where have you been?”
His eyes shifted strangely and my heart sank. What in the world was my troublemaking brother up to now?
He held a hand up. “I’m not causing trouble,” he said as though he’d read my mind, which wasn’t difficult, as it was usually the question that accompanied the lip-pursed look I was currently wearing. I relaxed my face. “I’ve been volunteering at the local firehouse,” he said, an unusually sheepish look on his face.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Easton sat up and shrugged. “Fire…you know. Sensitive topic.” My heart missed a beat, and whatever was on my face made him look down, taking the edge of the throw blanket and rubbing it between his fingers idly. “Listen,” he said, lifting his gaze again. “I think you should know something about that policeman. The one who lives here now.”
I released a pent-up breath. “He’s the chief of police. And I already know, Easton. He told me.”
Easton had the good grace to wince. “He’s crazy, Haven. Like bona fide crazy. He pulled a gun on me!”
“You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you! God, Easton, why? Why do you do those kinds of things? They hurt people. They ruin relationships. Families.”