I stand outside the shop, in the back, catching a breath of fresh air. Christopher hasn’t called me back, though I don’t expect him to. Not right away, that is.

 

What bothers me the most is the feeling that I hurt him.

 

I tried to explain as best I could via voicemail, telling him I’m on his side. That I don’t believe the terrible things people have said or thought about him. I’m on his side.

 

I remember Derrick. The way he looked when he stood on the lawn. The way I thought he reminded me of a broken man. That’s what he is. A broken man, looking for answers. Why was his sister killed? Could he have done anything to stop it? I know that’s how I’d feel. I’d want to know those things, too. I might even turn to drinking, which he clearly has done. He looked terrible.

 

People who are grieving don’t think clearly. They don’t reason. He’s not reasoning, that’s all there is to it. He wants to blame his sister’s death on Christopher, as everyone else has. Pin it on the person closest to the victim. That’s fairly typical. After all, don’t police always look for the person closest? Usually the spouse or significant other? It didn’t help when the gun used to kill the victim is the same type the spouse carries.

 

I run my hands through my hair, leaving traces of flour. Okay. I know I’m rationalizing. I know it looks bad for him. I have to keep reminding myself of the person I know. They person I see inside him. That person wouldn’t do something so horrible. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

 

Why am I shaking, then? Because he won’t call me back, that’s all. I don’t know how he feels right now, whether he’s angry with me or just sad because he thinks I didn’t believe him. Has he even listened to his voicemail?

 

Carly calls to me from inside. I go in, needing to warm up. It’s freezing outside. I had to clear my head.

 

“You okay? I thought you froze to death out there.” She’s smiling at me, accepting me. She’s the only person I know who isn’t full of judgment. She cares, but she knows I can make my own choices.

 

“Just needed to think, is all,” I say. I pour myself a cup of coffee if only to warm my cold hands.

 

“We’ve got plenty of room to think in here, sister,” she says with a smirk.

 

“I like fresh air with my thinking,” I reply quietly. But with a smile.

 

“I thought maybe…”

 

“Maybe what?”

 

“Maybe he came, and you met him out there.”

 

I sigh. “He wouldn’t come. Especially after the raft of shit he got from his brother-in-law earlier today about being in town. He wouldn’t come again so soon.”

 

“Brother-in-law? Not anymore, right?”

 

“I guess so? What do you call a brother-in-law once the spouse dies?” We both shrug. It seems as good a name as any.

 

“So what kind of things was he saying? Why can’t Christopher come to town?” Carly sits in one of the chairs. The place is empty, night falling. Not many people are interested in coffee at this time of day, but we stay open for the occasional straggler in need of a jolt, or maybe a cup of hot chocolate.

 

I lean on the counter, facing her. “You should know why he can’t. I mean, you’ve lived here your whole life.”

 

“Yeah, but I never heard of any rules which state members can’t be here. Just the opposite, really. They show their faces much more often than we’d like.”

 

I notice how she uses the word “we.” I never thought of her as being part of the town, not in that way. She’s young, vibrant, hip. I thought she was more open-minded than this. I guess I was naïve about a lot of things. But I know she’s my friend, and I can trust her. I need that right now.

 

“You wouldn’t know if there was any, you know, club rule stating they could only come to town so often.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Carly says, sipping a cup of tea. “Honestly, when you first said Christopher couldn’t come in, I assumed it had something to do with Michelle. There was an awful lot of drama when she died. I mean a lot of it. We thought it was crazy when the police were looking to close in on the gun trade. Oh, brother. That was nothing compared to what went down after Michelle’s murder.”

 

“Such as what?”

 

“They were all under suspicion. The police used it as an opportunity to get a closer look at the club. Bad publicity. Very bad. It was probably exactly what the cops needed, when you think about it.”

 

“You mean they needed a reason to get close, because they weren’t getting anywhere waiting for evidence of illegal guns being bought and sold.”

 

“Exactly.” Carly nods emphatically. “Michelle was just the thing. It gave them a chance to question everyone involved, right down to the most random fangirl. Everyone. Rumors flew for months.”

 

“It all came down to Christopher at the end of the day, though. Right?”

 

Carly nods again. “Right. As soon as they announced the caliber bullet used? Forget it. Case closed, as far as the court of public opinion was concerned.”

 

I shake my head. “Maybe it’s a matter of Christopher not coming to town because he brought so much bad publicity to the club, then.”

 

“That was my assumption, yeah. I’ve always had the impression he’s not closely affiliated with the club anymore, too. Maybe if he were, they’d be more willing to have his back.”

 

I think about this. That makes sense, doesn’t it? They’re shunning him, just as much as the town is. Oh, he’s so alone. I wish he would call back.

 

I hear a noise outside. My head turns automatically. Carly smiles, a little sadly.

 

“You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?”

 

I nod, miserable. I can’t deny it.

 

“Why don’t you go to see him instead of waiting for him to call you? Take matters into your own hands. You have the right. I mean, it’s your life. Isn’t it?”

 

She has a point. Why can’t I go to him? What’s the worst that could happen? He could throw me off his land. Big deal. I’d leave if he wanted me to. I know he wouldn’t hurt me. I know more than ever he’s not capable of that.

 

“I guess I will,” I agree. “Once we close up. I refuse to leave you holding the bag. I’ve done enough of that lately.”

 

“It’s okay,” she says, waving a hand. “What else would I be doing? Nothing. I love coming here.”

 

I smile. She’s such a rare treasure. “Then maybe you should leave early. You handled the entire rush by yourself today.”

 

“That wasn’t such a big deal either. Customers know when I’m here by myself, they need to calm the hell down and wait their turn. I don’t go for impatience. I’ll deliberately go slower if you give me a hard time.” I laugh. She can get away with that. She’s known them her entire life.

 

“So you’re staying? That’s what you’re telling me?” She nods. “Why do I feel like you’re guarding me somehow?”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Yes, you are. What’s up? Do you think I’m in trouble or something?”

 

Her eyes cloud over. “Not in trouble. Just…you need a little time to recover from the stuff that people were saying in here earlier today.”

 

We haven’t gone into this yet—in fact, I’d forgotten entirely. “Right. What were they saying?”

 

“Oh, come on…”

 

“You can tell me!”

 

“People always say that, until they hear.”

 

“Wow. Is it that bad?”

 

She shakes her head. “Not terrible,” she says, “but not very nice.”

 

“Please. I think I have the right to know what they were saying.”

 

“Amanda…you can’t un-hear things like this. I don’t want it to color your opinion of the people here. They’re genuinely great people. You’ve said it yourself a million times. It’s just they’ve been living with this club hanging over their heads for a long time. They tend to jump to conclusions because, let’s face it, there’s not much you can put past those guys. There’s literal proof of the things they’ve done.”

 

“I get it,” I tell her. “I’ll take it with a grain of salt.”

 

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, looks at the ceiling. “The main thing I heard was a ‘still waters run deep’ joke. You know. This whole time, everyone’s been wondering about you. Why you don’t date, why you’re so quiet. Such a pretty girl, why doesn’t she have a boyfriend? Now it’s, oh, because she likes bad boys. Who’d have imagined that from her? Still waters run deep. You know, with the wink and the nudge. The rolled eyes. It was kind of stupid, especially after the first or second time I heard it.”

 

“That’s it?” This seems tame considering the way she built it up.

 

“Yeah, I mean, with different variations every time. See, one version of the story was he spent the night. Another is you two have been shacking up together since you moved here. There are a dozen shades of gray in between. Get it?”

 

“I get it,” I say, my voice grim. “Well, let them say anything to me. I’ll very firmly but politely put them in their place.”

 

“Amanda…” Carly looks concerned.

 

I hold up a hand to stop her protests. “Listen. They need to know the sort of person he is. I’m not just talking out of my ass here either. I’m not some lovesick schoolgirl. Facts are facts. He saved my life. He saved me more than once, honestly.” My face clouds over as I remember the way it felt last night. I was so scared. Christopher came and made it all better.

 

“What’s wrong?” Carly stands, walking around the counter. My memories are clouding my mind at this point. “What are you talking about? More than once—what does that mean?”

 

I look at her, sizing her up. I’ve trusted her before. Can I trust her again? Then I remember how good it felt to finally get my past off my chest when I confessed everything to Christopher. There’s shame in secrets. Once those secrets are out in the open, the shame is gone. You might even wonder why you were ashamed in the first place.

 

“Sit down,” I tell her. “I’ll pour you another tea. I have a story to tell you.”