Instead, she’d driven to El Matador Beach and stayed in a bed-and-breakfast she’d found after her parents had passed away. It was her go-to place when she was upset. She spent a week there, taking a picnic basket and book and going to various hidden coves she’d discovered. She did her best to try to forget all about Savage. She rented a bicycle and spent time exploring places she’d never been before, and then walked for hours in order to rid herself of the restless energy she found she had—or the dark fantasy thoughts she shouldn’t have.
Her phone rang the second day she was there. She saw it was a call from Savage and her heart went wild. It took every ounce of discipline she possessed not to answer it. He called on and off all that day and into the night.
Text messages began coming in. One after another. You all right? She didn’t answer. A day later: Getting worried, woman. The temptation to answer almost overcame her good sense, but she didn’t want to engage with him. The third day he had clearly lost his good mood. What the fuck, Seychelle? Getting pissed here. I’m worried.
Okay, that wasn’t fair on her part. She didn’t want to worry him. She just didn’t want to get her heart broken. She thought a lot about what to say back. I’m fine, just thinking about things. Tell the band thanks, I really appreciate that they liked my voice, but it would be better if they got someone else.
Apparently, Savage was more adept at texting than she was. His reply took seconds. You’re going to get yourself in deep shit with this nonsense. And you damn well better not be smoking.
She hadn’t been, but the moment he sent that little order, she instantly felt like finding a pack of cigarettes. She didn’t, because she had really wanted to quit. She started after her parents had died, when strangers around her seemed to be sucking the life out of her and she couldn’t find a way to make them stop. She didn’t know how to protect herself from the bombardment of their illnesses for the longest time, so she kept to herself as much as possible.
She’d been so exhausted she hadn’t been able to move. Not just for a few days or weeks; it had taken months to recover after her father died. Even now, sometimes a long walk could make her lungs burn for air and leave her body exhausted.
“Are you going to sit in your car daydreaming, Seychelle?” Doris demanded, startling her. “Come out of there and have some tea and cookies.”
Seychelle heard her phone play “Wrong Side of Heaven” by Five Finger Death Punch and knew Savage was texting her. He had stopped after their exchange eight days earlier. It had gone on for too long, and she’d let it, engaging with him because she couldn’t help herself. That was the trouble. She just couldn’t stop herself where he was concerned.
Ignoring her phone, she waved at Doris and hopped out of the car. “I was contemplating whether to start on the stairs right away or drink tea. I’m not the best carpenter, and if I mess up your stairs, it will be terrible. I won’t have time to fix them before tomorrow.”
“I have a back door in the kitchen, Seychelle, that leads to the outside,” Doris said. “I can always use that if I have to. Let’s have tea and sit on the front porch in the rocking chairs. It’s ready now. It will get bitter and cold if we wait.”
Seychelle couldn’t help but admire the woman. She was just so pragmatic about everything. Her porch had needed repairs for a long while. The stairs were so bad that she had to avoid one of them to keep from falling through, and the railing around the porch was rickety, yet she was all smiles and welcoming. Her favorite thing was to sit with visitors on her porch in the rocking chairs and just talk.
“Sounds like a plan. You get the tea and I’ll get the tools. I can get set up out here while you’re getting everything together.”
Five Finger Death Punch played again, warning her that Savage was getting restless with her lack of replying. It made her want to smile. She was certain if she texted him first, he would take his sweet time answering, but she never did. She wouldn’t. She was lonely and she knew it. She didn’t have friends her own age. She couldn’t. She didn’t know how to protect herself. It was easier just to stay in the little world she’d created for herself. When she needed to, she would find people like Hank and his really bad band, sing with them for a short while and then, when it got too much, she’d quit and walk away.
Doris waved at her, turned to open her screen and disappeared inside her house. Seychelle pulled her phone out of her back pocket and looked down at the message. You aren’t home.