moved his family to Oklahoma so it had been nearly a year since the boys had seen Grayson. He must seem like a stranger to them, and he had no idea what he was doing.
Self-doubt scraped him raw. “Every decision I make feels like a trap. Honest to God, Vi, I’ve had broken ribs that hurt less than the worry I’ll somehow make this worse for them.”
“I felt the same way. I think everyone questions their ability to raise kids—biological parents, adoptive parents, experienced parents who already know the ropes. But you can do this. Imagine it like bronc riding. It won’t be easy, but you hold on and hope for the best.”
And pray you survive.
“It’s always the quiet ones.”
Hadley Lanier glanced up from the computer, where she’d been entering a request for a book transfer from one of the county’s sister libraries. “Hey, Becca.” She grinned at the strawberry blonde. “Or should I say Madame Mayor?” Even with all the months that had passed since her friend had been sworn in, Hadley was still thrilled. Becca was terrific for Cupid’s Bow, a natural leader. And, on a more selfish note, Hadley had helped with the campaign, so she considered herself a tiny part of the victory. “What quiet ones are you talking about?”
“You.” Becca set a stack of books on the library counter, the top one a thriller with blood-red letters across the cover. “Of the nine women in our book club, you’re the Quiet One, but—”
“I am?” Hadley was shy as a kid but hadn’t thought of herself that way in years. Straight A’s in school had bolstered her confidence, but the real breakthrough had been on the softball field, with a crowd cheering her on from the bleachers. A pang of nostalgia went through her, and she absently rubbed her shoulder.
Becca frowned. “Well, yeah. But maybe that’s just in comparison to the rest of us because we’re such loudmouths. You know how Sierra is, and I’ve been bossy since birth. So you come across as the sweet, quiet one. But I just finished the book you picked for tomorrow, and, quiet or not, you have a dark side.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“It was well-written—very well-written—but a little disturbing. I may have to check beneath the bed before I can sleep tonight.”
“I would have thought a big strong cowboy like Sawyer in the house makes you feel extra safe,” Hadley teased.
Becca’s mouth curved in a soft smile at the mention of her fiancé. “There are definitely perks to having him around. But when book club rotates back to you to pick our selection, maybe something without a serial killer next time?”
“Deal.” Hadley liked to alternate between her two favorite genres, anyway—creepy suspense novels that made her heart race and romances that made her heart race for different reasons. Bookworm cardio.
They chatted for a few more minutes about what snacks they were each bringing to book club tomorrow and about their friend Sierra, who was getting married in June. Both Becca and Hadley were in the bridal party. Then Becca’s little boy, Marc, approached the counter with his selections from the children’s library.
After Hadley checked out their books and waved goodbye, she glanced at the clock. Closing time. On Sunday, the Cupid’s Bow Public Library was only open from one to five. This was her shortest workday of the week, and it had gone by fast. There’d been a steady flow of students needing resources for projects due after spring break and citizens wanting to use the free internet. She gently reminded the two people still on computers that it was time to go, then went through her end-of-the-day ritual of shutting everything down and making sure the restrooms were empty.
She grabbed her purse and headed for the double glass doors at the library’s main entrance, faltering at the flock of large black crows that dotted the lawn. They were all facing the library, as if they’d been waiting for her.
This is why you shouldn’t read scary books, dummy. They only spur your overactive imagination.
Real life frequently made her think of some story she’d read. When she’d been eight and walked out of a store to encounter two ladies dressed in antique gowns and bustles, she’d believed for a full second that she’d time-traveled. But, no, the women had been handing out flyers for a historic reenactment. Well, you’re not eight, anymore, she reminded herself as she rubbed away the goose bumps on her arm. You’re a mature, rational twenty-seven.
In her defense, the sky was overcast, uncharacteristically dark for this time of day, which could give anyone a sense of foreboding. Deciding that a friendly voice would be a good distraction, she pulled out her cell phone as she crossed the deserted lot.
Her older sister, Leanne, answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you!”
“Something good?”
Leanne snorted. “I was mentally cussing you out for talking me in to night classes. Why did I think I could go back to school after all these years? I’m not as smart as you.”
“You’re plenty smart! You were just...easily distracted in high school.”
“Boy-crazy, you mean.”
Not everyone would catch the edge of regret in her offhand tone, but Hadley knew her sister well, knew there were decisions she wished she could take back. “I only pushed you to go back because I know you can do it.”
“I hope you’re right. Studying for this bio exam is kicking my butt.”
“Why don’t you come over for dinner in about an hour?” Climbing into her car, Hadley reached for the seat belt with her free hand. “I’m leaving work now. I’ll stop at the store, grab something easy to cook and help you study.”
“That sounds great—as long as we can eat something besides barbecue.” Five nights a week, Leanne waitressed at the most popular barbecue place in the county. The Smoky Pig regularly graced tourism lists of top Texas barbecue restaurants, and it stayed busy.
“Hmm...now that you mention it,” Hadley joked, “barbecue sounds pretty tasty.”
“I’m hanging up on you, brat.”
“See you in an hour.”
It only took Hadley ten minutes to reach the grocery store, but by the time she parked, the heavy clouds were accompanied by a brisk wind and rumbles of thunder. No lightning yet, but there was an almost tangible electric charge to the air. It rushed over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She doubled her pace, hoping to get in and out of the supermarket before the storm broke. Grabbing a cart, she formulated a mental shopping list. Pasta with shrimp was quick and simple, and she could round out the meal with a salad. As she made her way toward the seafood counter at the back of the store, a crash reverberated. Not thunder this time, but something closer and more difficult to identify. Had it come from the next aisle?
She heard the scolding murmur of a man’s deep voice, followed by a high-pitched wail. Then a little boy yelled, “You made my brother cry!”
“Sam, I didn’t—Tyler, don’t...” The man’s
