Chapter Thirteen

MAGNOLIA

It’s been a couple weeks since the fateful weekend I confessed most of my past to Simon, but I’m still guarding some secrets that are close to my heart, telling myself those are for another day.

It’s not that I want to keep things from him, but I know telling him will only change the way he thinks of me, and I’m not ready to lose whatever it is he and I have.

Over the course of the last two weeks, Simon not only taught me how to drive, but also had me added to his insurance. I was worried that since I had a gap in coverage the rates would skyrocket, but somehow Simon was able to get me an affordable price. We argued over how we were going to split the payment—I told him we should each pay our own portion, while Simon argued we should half it down the middle. I told him that wasn’t fair, because he shouldn’t have to pay more than he was paying prior to adding me, and thank the Lord, he finally listened and agreed to my suggestion…though I’m pretty sure he never deposited the cash I gave him for the first month of the policy.

Regardless, it’s something else to hit the road knowing I’m no longer a danger to myself or others. Being able to get up and go whenever and wherever I fancy is the most precious kind of freedom. For that alone, I’m forever indebted to Simon McAllister.

Today, I’m using my newfound freedom to meet the girls for a late afternoon coffee date and a little shopping. I still majorly suck at parallel parking, so I forgo the open spot in front of Dream Beans, our local coffee shop, and head a few blocks down out of the way to a small parking lot. It’s easier, and the walk in the fresh spring air will do me good.

By the time I make it to Dream Beans, little beads of sweat dot my hairline along my forehead. It may only be March, but it’s gearing up to be a brutal spring that’ll only give way to an even hotter summer. I always thought it was hot in Charleston, but South Carolina has nothing on Dogwood, Alabama.

That said, I’d gladly live in the middle of an inferno if it meant Grant couldn’t touch me ever again.

When I step through the door, the cool air in the coffee shop makes my skin turn to gooseflesh. Wrapping my arms around myself, I scan the funky little café, looking for my girls. Luckily, they’re loud as hell, which makes them hard to miss.

I step up to the reclaimed wood coffee bar to place my order. “Welcome to Dream Beans. What’ll you have today?”

Offering the barista a timid smile, I spout off my order. “Just a small coffee with room for cream, please.”

She taps on the touchscreen order pad a few times before telling me my total. “That’ll be two dollars and fifty-six cents today.”

I fish out a five-dollar bill and tell her to keep the change.

“Your coffee should be ready in just a few. We’ll call your name when it’s up.”

I thank her before winding my way to the table in the back where Seraphine, Myla Rose, and Azalea are all seated. “Well, look who finally made it!” Seraphine hollers as I approach.

Ducking my head, I smile at them and take the seat next to my cousin.

“Where’s Brody?” I ask Myla Rose.

“With Cash’s mom. I swear, she can’t get enough of him.”

Her words make me smile. If there’s one thing in this life I know without any uncertainty, it’s that her son is well loved.

“Gotcha. That’ll certainly make shopping easier.”

“Who cares about shopping!” Azalea scoffs. “I want to know about you and Simon.”

Internally, I cringe. Ever since seeing him hold my hand at Azteca’s, they’ve been on me about him. I’ve skated by at the salon, avoiding them by busying myself with clients, but I have a feeling the jig is up.

“There’s n-nothing to say. We’re…we’re friends.” I try to sound strong and convincing, but it’s hopeless. I sound about as strong as a sapling in a hurricane.

Azalea smirks at me, and I know she’s about to tear my story apart. “Just friends, huh?” She tilts her head, assessing me with her striking green eyes. “Hey, Myles, do friends hold hands?”

Myla Rose shakes her head no, a small smile lighting up her face.

“Do friends live together? Buy each other cars?”

“W-wait a minute!” I interject. “I…we don’t live together, we’re roommates, and Simon didn’t b-buy me a c-car, he helped me buy one. Yes, some money came out of his p-pocket, but I’m gonna pay him back!” My cheeks are red, and my skin is hot by the time I finish. I don’t want Simon’s friends to think I’m some leech, attaching myself to him and using him. The very thought horrifies me.

Azalea opens her mouth to speak, but the barista calls my name before any words can tumble out. Thank God.

I shove my chair back from the table and stalk over to the counter.

“Sorry that took so long. We had to brew it fresh.”

“N-no problem.” With my back still turned to my friends, I take small sips of the hot beverage, trying to get my emotions under control.

I flinch when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Mags,” Azalea says, her voice pleading. “I was only joking. Please come sit with us.”

I nod, eyes down, and follow her back to the table.

Our conversation usually flows effortlessly, but thanks to my outburst, we’re silent. Even though I’m mortified, I know I need to apologize. “I’m s-sorry for—”

The words are hardly out of my mouth before Azalea cuts me off. “No! You have nothing to apologize for. I was pushing, and I shouldn’t have. You and Simon aren’t any of our business.”

I reach across the table and give her hand a quick squeeze. “It’s just…” I release a long sigh. “I don’t want y’all to think I’m u-using him. I like him so much, but he and I…it’s complicated.”

Myla Rose’s eyes spark. “I know all about complicated, Mags. Complicated isn’t always bad.”

“Plus,” Azalea says, “we would never think that.”

Seraphine nods. “That man is way too smart to be used, and too pigheaded to do a damn thing he doesn’t want to do.”

I laugh because Seraphine’s statement is so true. “He can be very stubborn.”

Myla points the straw of her drink at me. “For real though, and I’m not trying to poke or prod, but you couldn’t pick a better man—you know, other than Cash.”

“Or Drake,” Azalea chimes in, causing us all to giggle.

“I know he’s a good man, and he’s a good k-kisser too.” The words slip out, shocking us all. Seraphine and Myla Rose both gasp, Azalea smirks, looking like she wants to launch a full-scale investigation, and I drop my head into my hands, desperately trying to hide my burning, crimson cheeks.

Seraphine’s the first to break up the awkwardness. “I’m sorry, but say what?”

“I don’t think I can r-repeat it,” I say with my hands still shielding my face from view.

Gently, one of the girls peels my hands from my face. I keep my eyes clenched shut—anything to delay the metaphorical firing squad I’m about to face.

“C’mon, open your eyes,” Myla Rose murmurs, using her mom voice.

Not one to be left out, Azalea adds her two cents. “For real, girl—out with it!”

I inhale a deep, cleansing breath and start from the beginning, explaining how it started as little touches here and there and somehow grew into hot and heavy make-out sessions. “But, I’m not sure where it leaves us, or if it even means anything.”

“Magnolia.” Myla Rose speaks my name softly, her big brown eyes boring into mine. “I’ve known Simon since I was seven years old. He’s not the kind of man to do something without meaning it. He thinks before he acts, and he acts with intention.”

Butterflies attempt to take flight in my belly at her words, but I lock their cage tight. I don’t want to get my hopes up, and if the past has taught me anything, I’m not the best decision-maker when it comes to matters of the heart.

“Maybe, m-maybe not,” I murmur before draining the last dregs of my coffee.

“No maybe about it,” Myla Rose insists. “Now, who’s ready to shop?”

We stand and gather our belongings then make our way toward the door, stopping only to toss our empty cups into the trash can.

“Where first?” Azalea asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The girl loves to shop.

Seraphine is quick with a suggestion. “What about Ooh La La? I saw on Facebook they just got a new shipment of swimsuits!”

“Ugh. The thought of a two-piece after having Brody? Mortifying,” Myla Rose laments, but all the same, we set off toward the boutique.

The short, one-block walk passes quickly. Azalea immediately finds a ruby-red bikini with more strings and straps than I’d know what to do with.

Seraphine walks the perimeter of the shop, stopping and inspecting a few different suits before finally grabbing two to try on. “Do you think either of these will look good on me?” she asks, holding one in each hand. They’re total opposites. One is a tribal-style white bikini with beading and fringe, and the other is a royal-blue strapless one-piece. Given her tall, lithe figure, I’m willing to bet either one would look amazing, and I tell her so.

Azalea and Seraphine both head to the fitting rooms while Myla and I work up the courage to pull something to try on. Finally, she bursts out laughing. “Why are we being so weird? Seriously, it’s just us. No one will be in the fitting room with us. If it looks bad, who cares! No one has to know!”

I smile, because even though we’re hung up for completely different reasons, she’s right. Who cares? Grant isn’t here to tell me I need to lose weight or that I look like I’m “asking for it.” Nope, he’s nowhere in sight, and it’s high time I stop letting the ghosts of my past control me.

With a newfound sense of determination, I march straight over to the suit that caught my eye when we first walked in. It’s gracing the mannequin in the window, and while I’m aware it won’t look the same on me, I’m willing to try.

Swimsuits in hand, Myla and I beeline to the dressing room, and we’re in luck, because there just happen to be two rooms open. Myla takes the one on the left and I step into the other, pulling the heavy curtain closed behind me.

I keep my back to the mirror as I quickly shed my clothes—save for my undies—and step into the one-piece suit, shimmying it up my body. I take my time, adjusting the thick straps on my shoulders, pinching and pulling the suit away from my body until finally I’m satisfied.

Pinching my eyes closed tight, I pivot around to face the mirror. Whoa! is my first thought, followed quickly by I actually look good—really good. The design is simple, solid black with a subtle V-shaped neckline and horizontal mesh-filled cutouts on the sides. Classy and modest with a touch of sexy, it’s perfect.

I’ve never felt sexier, to tell the truth. Here’s to moving forward—to finding me again. Who knew something as simple as a swimsuit could spark something like this within me?

I quickly shuck off the suit, re-dress, and step back out into the main boutique area. Azalea and Seraphine are seated on a bench with shopping bags at their feet.

“Which did you go with?” I ask Seraphine.

She shrugs her shoulders. “Both.”

“Guys?” Myla Rose anxiously calls from behind the curtain of her dressing room.

“What’s up, sister-girl?” Azalea calls back.

“I just…” She flings the curtain back. “Does this look awful?” Myla stands before us in a flattering high-waisted bikini. However, instead of your typical triangle top, she’s wearing a long-sleeved rash guard top that stops just below her bust, leaving only an inch or two of her abdomen revealed.

Azalea stands and walks over to her best friend. “You look fan-fucking-tastic. Your hubby is gonna swallow his damn tongue when he sees you in this—hell, little Brody might even wind up a big brother after Cash catches sight of you.”

Myla’s eyes sparkle. “Really?” We all nod back at her. “Okay then! Let me change and we can go.”

Once Myla and I are checked out, we all step out in the evening air. “Good Lord, where did the sun go?” Seraphine asks.

“It’s almost six o’clock!” Azalea informs us.

“Oh. My. Stars! I told Cash’s mom I would be back by six to get Brody!” Myla Rose exclaims, a worried tone coloring her words.

“You better hurry then,” Seraphine says, hefting her purse higher up onto her shoulder.

“See y’all at the salon,” she calls over her shoulder while hurrying back to where she parked Bertha, her big green Land Cruiser.

Azalea gives us a wave with her fingertips and scurries after her. “That’s my ride!”

“Guess I better get home too,” Seraphine says as we walk back toward Dream Beans. “I’m sure Dad’s nurse is ready for a break.”

“How’s Uncle Dave doing?”

Seraphine lifts the left side of her upper lip. “His heart is getting worse by the day—struggling to keep up. His medication isn’t doing much to help either.” I know she hates talking about her dad, so I’m shocked by her open honesty.

I wrap her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, S. Let me know if I can do anything.”

We pause when we get to her Rav-4. “I will, Mags. You know that.”

“I know.”

She looks around, as if searching for something. “Where’d you park? Want me to walk you to your car?”

“I’m just down the street in the public lot, and no, I’m fine. There’s just enough sunlight left.”

Seraphine looks like she doesn’t quite believe me, but she doesn’t argue. “All right, be safe. Love you.”

“Love you more.” I press a kiss to her cheek and set off toward my car.

The walk is only a few blocks, but the sun is sinking below the horizon fast. The thought of being alone after dark has my belly pulling tight. Sure, Dogwood seems safe, but you never know. I power walk the last block, feeling uneasy when I notice the light for the parking lot is out. I fish my cell phone from my bag as I approach, my fingers ready to call for help if the need arises.

You’re just being paranoid. I try to convince myself, but the closer I get, the more obvious it becomes that something is actually wrong.

“Oh my God.” My voice breaks as I take in my new Honda. The back windshield is smashed, and the two tires I can see are slashed.

Frantically, I call the first person I can think of.

Simon answers on the first ring, skipping right over any kind of greeting. “Goldilocks, you wanna bring home dinner?”

My pitiful whimper stops him short.

“Magnolia, are you okay? Where are you?” I tell him my location. “Okay, I’m on my way. I’m gonna stay on the phone with you, so don’t hang up.”

“’Kay,” I whisper into the phone, too terrified to speak any louder. What if the person—the monster—who did this is still here?

“I’m walking out the door now. Is there somewhere nearby that’s still open?” he asks, his tone calm and soothing.

“I-I see something with l-lights on. I’m n-not sure what it is.”

“Okay, good. Go there and have them call the police.”

With my phone pressed to my ear, I dash to the store. I barge through the doors, not bothering to check where I am or the name of the business.

“Namaste and welcome to Elements.” The cheery blonde-dreadlocked receptionist greets me without looking up from the computer screen in front of her. “Are you here for our group class or—” Her words stop when she glances up and takes in my disheveled appearance. “Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

“S-s-someone v-vandalized my c-car,” I stutter out. “C-can you c-call—”

She finishes my sentence for me. “The police? On it!”

I wrap my arms around my waist. “Are you c-c-close?” I ask Simon.

“Less than two minutes away.”

On shaky legs and with even shakier breaths, I all but collapse onto the small couch in the reception area of the yoga studio, the sounds of Simon driving and the receptionist talking to the 911 operator fighting for my attention.

Overwhelmed, I pinch my eyes closed and do my best to block out everything but the sound of Simon’s voice. He’s my port in this storm, and I know I won’t feel safe until I’m with him.

“I’m here, Goldilocks,” Simon says, breathing heavily into the phone before disconnecting the call. He rushes into the studio, drops to his knees in front of me, and wraps me in his strong arms. Finally, I feel safe.

I don’t realize how hard I’m sobbing and shaking until Simons starts murmuring to me in hushed tones, telling me I’m okay now, and that he won’t ever let anything hurt me.

I lean farther into him, clinging to the comfort only he can give me. My fists wrap tightly around the material of his navy-blue hoodie, holding him close. When the sounds of several car doors slamming shut filter through the air, Simon attempts to pull back, but stops when I whimper and refuse to let go.

“I’m not leavin’ you, Magnolia,” he whispers, still rubbing my back. “But we gotta go outside and talk to the police, okay? I’ll be right beside you.”

Reluctantly, I nod and pull back, giving him room to stand. Simon immediately takes my hand in his and leads me outside to where the officers are waiting.