What She Found, page 1
Copyright © 2020 by Emerald O’Brien
Cover designed by Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae
Interior designed by Tadpole Designs
Editing by Mountains Wanted Publishing
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Don’t miss out on the next Emerald O’Brien release!
Acknowledgments
Don’t miss these suspenseful and unpredictable reads by Emerald O’Brien
About the Author
For anyone going through a big change in life.
Keep going.
Chapter One
“Bonnie is dead,” Cassy says, wind whipping through her curly blonde ringlets. She leans her hip against the railing of the creaky wooden front porch. “But her spirit lives on with us!”
She raises her wine glass, the red remnants from our long chat swirling at the bottom.
Liz raises her glass, and it’s full. She hasn’t taken a sip since we’ve been out here, Arland’s insensitive quip still likely on her mind. “To Bonnie.” She pushes her hair from her short, shiny bob out of her face and glances from Cassy to me. “May she rest in peace, and may we continue to be grateful for the gift she gave us before she passed.”
I push my thin, brown hair from my face and swallow hard. It’s never gotten easier to talk about Bonnie. Even mentioning her brings a lump to my throat.
“We should do this before it gets too bad out here,” Cassy says, her words lost in the wind.
Squinting out into the dark fields and forest surrounding our rental in the countryside, I try to feel your presence, Bonnie. Through the damp, cold winds, I ache to feel your warm hand on mine. To feel your presence standing with us just one more time.
But that’s a lie.
Once will never be enough.
“Tabbie?” Liz asks in a meek tone. Her eyes, long lashes, glossy with tears, stare into mine, and I swallow back the lump in my throat, struggling for breath against the grief and whistling winds.
Cassy rests her warm hand on my back, and Liz grabs my free hand as I raise my glass.
“To Bonnie,” I choke out.
It’s the best I can do. I’ve been trying my best to be here, present, with my dear friends, but with everything that’s happened to me—the people I’ve lost—it’s hard to escape my own thoughts.
We tap our glasses together as a banging comes from the door beside us, making us jump. Wine from Liz’s glass splatters against the porch, staining the wood a bright red.
Connor presses the side of his freckled face against the window. “Game’s about to start. You ladies in?”
I’m lost, alone amongst my closest friends.
They insisted I come on this trip—that I shouldn’t be alone—but fail to understand that loneliness can settle into every cell of one’s being despite surroundings or company.
Once four couples, our group now has only two. Liz and Arland. Cassy and Matt.
Connor and I are singles again, and his friend Wesley is the first outsider we’ve invited on one of our traditional getaways. Connor’s freckled arm brushes up against mine as he leans toward me once more, dealing out the cards. I never sit beside Connor. Derek always grabbed the spot beside the man he said made him laugh the hardest, and I’d always take his other side.
It’s a reminder Derek isn’t here—everything is.
A card from the new deck slides across the hand-crafted wooden table and off the edge. It matches the rest of the homemade furniture in the vacation house Liz and Arland rented this summer.
“Hey, buddy,” Matt chuckles from his seat across the table, bending at the side to pick up the card and waving it in front of Connor’s face. “You new to shuffling?” His round features and tight-lipped grin stand out against the harsh overhead lamp as light rain patters against the windows behind me.
A few of them chuckle as Cassy leans in toward Matt, her partner since high school. That was before any of us knew her. She whispers something in his ear, her curly blonde natural ringlets covering half his face, and his smile fades. He pulls away, leaning across the table and handing the card back to Connor. He holds on to the card as Connor tries to pull it away.
“One more of those,” Arland says, his deep voice filling the large kitchen, “and you’ll lose your dealing privileges.” He tucks one hand in his jean pocket and scans the table, towering over all of us at six-foot-four, before returning to the counter.
“Yeah, yeah.” Connor smirks and swipes the card away from Matt, adding it back to the pile and shuffling. Instead of dealing, he scratches his fingers through his red hair and leans in toward me. “So, Tabbie? Wes said he’ll bring your boxes of wine to the car for ya before we leave tomorrow, ‘kay?”
His friend Wesley gives me a small smile from Connor’s other side but avoids eye contact after that. My cheeks are hot, and now I’m sure they’re turning red. Great.
Does Connor think I don’t realize what he’s trying to do—or worse—think I need his help finding another man? Or maybe he sees right through me and knows I’m lonely. Knows it well because he is too. Losing Bonnie was hardest on him.
Cassy leans over from my other side and whispers, “He’s cute, right?”
I shrug and give her a small smile as she sits back, her lilac perfume still lingering, calming me. She’s worn the same one since college, and I can’t smell a lilac bush without thinking about her.
Matt pushes himself away from the table, and the wooden chair shrieks across the hardwood floor over the music. Cassy stares down at her cards until he steps away, and then her eyes are trained on him, following each step he takes toward the live-edge countertop.
He picks up one of the many bottles of liquor Arland and Liz provided for the group. Cassy rubs her fingers against her thin lips, considering something before turning away, focusing on her cards again.
Arland clears his throat and taps the table. “Anybody else like another one?” He never has to raise his voice; it can be heard over a large crowd—and turn one silent with one word, too.
Connor deals the remaining cards and glances at his empty pint glass. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“No, thanks,” Cassy mumbles, picking at her short nails.
Arland stares at Wesley until he lifts his head.
His light green eyes fix on Arland. “Uh, I don’t drink.” His voice is smooth and calm, and as he turns to me, I glance away.
He told us he didn’t drink for the first time when we arrived at our wine-tasting tour. I’d have thought it strange he came for our group’s annual winery weekend but for the fact that, once Connor arrived, he announced he’d invited a friend to come along this time, and no one else seemed surprised. For a moment, I thought it might be someone for him. That he might finally be moving on, until he scrolled through his phone and produced a picture of my blind date, and a surge of embarrassment rushed through me as I stared at a man in blue coveralls with dark hair, light eyes, and a wicked smile that spelled trouble. Why Connor thought a man like that would be interested in me, I can’t understand, except maybe Wesley is doing this as a favor for him. Maybe he owes him, and Connor—classic Connor—called in the favor for someone else.
Come be the rebound my friend desperately needs.
Except Connor should know better than any of them that I don’t want to meet anyone new right now. Maybe not ever.
Wesley scratches the back of his neck, unintentionally showing off his triceps as Arland stares at him, and I can’t help but wish they were wrapped around me.
“Ah, that’s right.” Arland sidesteps away from the table, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I forgot you don’t drink. Liz?”
She turns her cheek and shoots me a look directly across the table before picking up her cards and rolling her tongue across her perfect white teeth.
“Liz?” he asks again and rests his hands on her angular shoulders. “Can I get you anything, Chou Chou?”
Wesley frowns, and we catch each other’s grimaces. I press my lips together to stifle a laugh and cover my mouth with my hand as I look away in embarrassment. Laughin g would have been nice, but feeling this tiny moment of connection with Wesley is better than the soft buzz my wine has provided me all day.
Liz remains still and rigid, her dark, blunt bob sitting perfectly on her shoulders and her toned arms folded in front of her. Arland stares across at our side of the table and shrugs. We make eye contact; I look away. He’ll get no sympathy from me. He sighs and joins Matt at the counter, towering over him.
Has he really not apologized yet? The tension between them adds to the nausea I’ve been trying to keep at bay since I left this morning.
No. Since before Derek…
“Nice bar, man,” Matt says to Arland, looking up at him to meet his gaze. “What’d this set ya back?”
“Only the best for my friends,” Arland says, avoiding the question.
“I saw that!” Cassy hisses and swivels her whole body toward the counter. I turn, anxious to see what she caught him doing. “Matt, come on. That’s enough.”
Matt smirks at Arland as they set their dripping shot glasses on the counter, and Arland winks at him.
“Give him a break, Cassy,” Connor whines. “Now can we please get back to the game?”
“You’re just eager to take my money again,” Matt calls over Cassy’s huff.
“I think Wes is about to take us all,” Connor says and nods to me. “Wesley’s been in the Ontario poker championship for like eight years in a row, and he won twice, isn’t that right?” He smacks Wesley on the back and gives me another tight-lipped smile before collecting his cards.
I feel the heat of Wesley’s stare. Is he embarrassed too? He must be. I can’t bear to look.
I down the rest of my wine and clear my throat. “What’s a girl gotta do to get one of those shots over here?”
Matt laughs and turns over his shoulder. “Just say the magic word!”
“Whiskey?” I call.
Arland shakes his head and smiles at me, his sharp jawbone and charming features winning me over enough to guess again.
“Tequila?” I ask.
“Ugh, gross,” Liz mutters in her smooth, mature voice, but shoots me a smile. It’s the first time she’s spoken since we returned from the tasting, and some of the tension melts away with her words.
“Try again,” Matt says.
“Please?” I ask. I’m ready to beg as they turn back to the counter and fiddle with some bottles.
“So, Tabbie,” Liz says, leaning forward. “Have you gotten the rest of your things yet?”
From Derek’s house.
Our house?
What do I even call the place I called home for over five years now? It’s not going to be mine anymore once Derek buys me out.
I shake my head and turn back to the men, pretending to be more interested in whatever concoction they’re creating.
“Your apartment’s way too small for all your things. Have you decided where you’re going to buy yet?” Cassy asks, but her eyes are still set on Matt at the counter as she twists one of her ringlets around her finger.
“Nope.” I reach for my glass, only to remember it’s empty as my fingers wrap around it.
“That’s gotta be tough,” Liz says, tucking her smooth hair behind her ear, and I want to disappear.
Why are they bringing this up in front of everyone? In front of Wesley, a stranger to us all but Connor.
“Thinking about staying in the area?” Cassy asks. “I’d miss you if you went too far.”
“No, come to the countryside,” Liz says, raising her voice. “Oh, it would be perfect!”
Yeah. I’m sure life would be great if I could afford to keep living in the city, but on my new single income, I’ll be lucky to afford a small place in the burbs, never mind the beautiful township Liz and Arland live in. I can’t say that, though. Liz would never understand with all her money, and they’d all just feel sorry for me, sorrier, if it’s possible.
I don’t need pity. I need booze.
“No way,” Cassy says, “that would be even farther from your office.”
“Ugh, don’t mention work.” I rub my temples at the thought of returning to the giant pile of paperwork that will be waiting for me on my desk as it does at the end of every summer vacation.
“What do you do?” Wesley asks.
I hate telling people. No one understands what I do even after I explain it.
“I’m an assistant admin for the municipal resident services coordinator,” I say, and his brow furrows. I sigh, ready to get the rest of my feeble attempt at an explanation over with. “Which basically means my boss is responsible for the unit rental process in our municipality—rent geared to income—so I maintain all the tenant files and records. It’s boring. ”
“She helps the less fortunate,” Liz says. I hate when she reduces it to that, making me sound like a saint for keeping paperwork up to date, and oblivious to the fact that I’m not much unlike the less fortunate she speaks of. “And you can commute a little farther if it could mean having your own piece of land. I know you’d love that.”
Cassy squints at Liz, then turns to me. “But the twins. They’d miss you too much.”
“Twins.” Wesley stares at Cassy with his piercing green eyes, and it’s finally safe to look at him.
His sharp facial features and great build could mean he models in his spare time, when he’s not working with Connor at the auto plant. He’s probably conceited, having people fawn over him all the time.
“Twins,” Matt echoes and turns around with Arland, carrying a long, rectangular tray of shot glasses filled with amber liquid.
Seven.
Have they already forgotten Wesley doesn’t drink?
I wonder why he doesn’t drink. He hasn’t even felt the need to explain himself all five times he’s had to say it. Why do I always feel like I need to explain myself when I say no?
Wesley slouches and rests his elbows on the table, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s gotta be…”
“Crazy?” Matt asks. “Intense? Yeah, it is, but they’re the best things that have ever happened to me—to us—and it’s like, you know how they say it’s the best day of your life, having kids?” He slurs his “s,” and Cassy frowns at him. “Well, imagine doubling that feeling. That’s what it’s like.”
“Matt,” Cassy hisses.
Is it the drinks or the kid talk? I can’t tell what’s upset her, but I can understand if it’s the kids. We’re all so used to being sensitive when talking about babies in front of Arland and Liz, but they haven’t seemed to notice or care this time. After the adoption of their nine-year-old, Ryan, the subject of babies hasn’t been as taboo.
“What are those?” Cassy asks, turning up her nose as Matt sets the tray on the table.
Come on, Cass. As if you’ve ever turned away a drink. What’s up with you?
“They’re called Burt Reynolds.” Arland licks his lips and smacks them. “You’re going to love them. The boys at the yacht club introduced me to them this summer.”
“Yacht club,” Matt imitates and chuckles.
“Nope.” Cassy huffs. “No, I think we’ve all drunk enough for today… for the month!”
Matt sets one in front of her, and then his spot, followed by Wesley’s.
Wesley pushes it away. “None for me.”
“Oh, shit. Right.” Matt tips it back against his lips and swallows. “Sorry, I forgot.”
He did that on purpose, so he’d get an extra shot with minimal blow-back from Cassy. She opens her mouth, but Connor and Arland’s laughs drown out whatever she’s saying.
Matt hands one to Connor and walks behind him, setting one in front of me and squeezing my shoulder with a wink. I smile up at him.
Poor Matt. Just trying to have a good time.
“Were those the magic words? Burt Reynolds?” I ask with a smirk and hiccup, picking up the deceivingly heavy shot glass.
