style="font-size:15px;"> In other words, the information would sit in a file and, beyond the occasional phone call to see if Shayna had come home, little else would be done.
While Brock didn’t like it, he could see Roger’s point.
More weary than he’d been in ages, he decided he’d figure something out on the drive home.
Instead, he found himself turning onto the Bells’ street. As he coasted to a stop in front of the neat ranch-style house, he debated whether he really wanted to go inside. Not only was Mr. Bell’s secret weighing him down, but he wasn’t sure he was up to seeing Zoe again.
The decision was taken from him when the front door opened—Mrs. Bell, heading to the mailbox to get the day’s mail. The instant she caught sight of him, she smiled and waved.
“Brock! What are you doing sitting in your truck? Come on inside. I was just about to cook up some of my famous fried chicken.” Her smile wavered slightly. “Who knows, maybe Shayna will smell it and decide to come home.”
Despite himself, his mouth watered and his stomach growled. Mrs. Bell was known all around town for her chicken. It was the best he’d ever had.
Any reservations he might have had vanished, just like that. His stomach won out. He cut the engine and pocketed the keys.
Retrieving her mail, Mrs. Bell chattered all the way up the sidewalk. Apparently, Mr. Bell hadn’t yet told his wife of his plans to leave. Brock wondered if he would.
He held the door open so Mrs. Bell could go inside.
Zoe glanced up as they entered the room. Surprise flashed across her face when she saw Brock, but almost immediately she schooled her features into an expression of polite interest. “Brock,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped by after work to check on ya’ll, and Mrs. Bell invited me to dinner.” He kept his response equally civil. “When she mentioned she was making her chicken, I couldn’t pass it up.”
“Oh, look at this!” Mrs. Bell held up a flyer, passing it to Brock. “Looks like Cristine is having a get-together tomorrow over at the high school.”
Brock nodded, reading the leaflet quickly. Maybe if he kept himself busy while he was here, not only would he not have to wonder if Shayna had left because of him, but he also wouldn’t have to look at Zoe and wonder what might have been.
“A get-together?” Zoe’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “Why on earth—”
“Wrong choice of words,” Mrs. Bell said, lifting one shoulder in apology. “Cristine is calling a meeting to organize a search for our Shayna. Even if she took off on her own, maybe Cristine can help locate her.”
Closing her mouth, Zoe nodded. To Brock’s surprise, she glanced at him, almost as if seeking his opinion. The instant her vibrant brown eyes met his, he felt a slow burn begin in his blood. Did she feel it, too? How could she not?
But her glance flitted away almost as quickly, and he knew he’d been wrong. Zoe didn’t feel anything for him. She never had.
“Are you going?” Mrs. Bell asked, taking the flyer from him and passing it to Zoe.
“We’ll go,” Brock found himself saying, replying for both of them even though he had no right.
“Of course, we’ll go,” Zoe interjected. “We all want to help find Shayna as quickly as possible.”
Since there was nothing Brock could add to that, he nodded.
“Well, I’d better get busy frying up some chicken.” Mrs. Bell headed toward the kitchen.
“I’ll help,” Zoe said, letting the flyer flutter to the floor as she jumped to her feet. She hurried away, leaving him alone in the oak-paneled living room.
He picked up the flyer and read it again. While he’d never really liked Cristine, he found it commendable that she cared enough about her friend to do something to try to find her. The skeptical part of him wondered if Cristine just missed having someone to party with, but in truth, her motives didn’t matter. Finding Shayna was what mattered. Even if she had just climbed onto the back of some guy’s motorcycle, she needed to understand the worry she’d caused her family.
Again, he questioned how it could be that Shayna hadn’t at least told Cristine where she was going. The two women had been best friends, so close that Shayna had planned to move in with her.
The thought twisted his gut. This one little fact, his belief that Shayna would have clued Cristine in, worried him more than anything else.
Glancing again at Zoe, he couldn’t help but wonder how she and Cristine would get along. Both women thought of themselves as Shayna’s best friend. They couldn’t be more dissimilar, except for the fact that they both loved her.
Cocking his head, he listened to low murmur of voices as Zoe and Mrs. Bell talked in the kitchen. The sound brought back old memories. As teens and young adults, he and Zoe and Shayna had spent a good bit of their time hanging out at the Bells’ house. Partly because of Mama Bell’s amazing cooking, and partly because the place always felt warm and welcoming, Brock had come to consider it his second home.
As nostalgia filled him, he grimaced. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed those days. Or that part of them, at least. He was over the Zoe part. Completely.
A few minutes later, he heard the sizzle of the frying pan, and then the heavenly smell of Mama Bell’s fried chicken filled the air.
On cue, his stomach growled, making him grimace at himself. Suddenly the delectable fried chicken had become a gateway to a past he’d put behind him. Life had been...good. He had a routine, a rhythmic sameness to his days that felt soothing, and maybe just the tiniest bit boring.
Not anymore. Now that very same peaceful existence had been turned on its ear. He didn’t like change. Never had. But starting with Shayna’s abrupt disappearance, his ordinary life had been thrown into upheaval. He’d tried searching for her, just as he had for Zoe when she’d left. Both times, he’d found nothing but heartache.
Now Zoe was here. Zoe, whom he’d loved more than life itself.
And, though she had no idea, he owed her. It had been because of her prodding that he’d gone to broadcast school after graduating high school, because of her bugging him that he’d applied for an internship at a radio station in one of the largest markets in the country. He’d been accepted right after she abandoned him before their wedding. Of course, fate had other ideas. As he’d been packing to move to New York City, his father had suffered a massive heart attack and died, leaving Brock to pick up the pieces. Someone had to run the feed store and take care of his younger sister Eve, who’d only been thirteen at the time.
Reluctantly, Brock had given up his dreams. He worked occasionally on the night shift at a local country music station, when he wasn’t running the feed store. Unlike Zoe, he’d stayed right here in Anniversary, where he had family and responsibilities. His aging mother and baby sister depended on him, as did the local farmers and ranchers who relied on the feed store for their supplies.
While it wasn’t the life he’d wanted, it was the life he had. Brock believed he’d made the best of it. He’d even
