The Silent Waters Page 63

“Why do you think?”

He’s waiting for her to tell him to come home.

Cheryl’s eyes dulled, and her brows grow closer in thought. “Mom’s no better. Not trying to judge, but by the greasiness of her hair, and the swarm of flies following her around, I doubt she’s even showering.”

I snickered at my dramatic sister.

“Love is hard, isn’t it?”

Yup.

“That’s why I’m just going to get a cat. Cats don’t need anything from you except for food and a place to poop. That’s all I want from relationships, too. Give me some tacos and a toilet for the aftermath of tacos, and I’ll live happily ever after. I’m definitely going to get myself a cat. And maybe tacos for dinner. Will you come over and clean the litter box for me?”

No. Probably not.

“Okay then. I’m definitely not getting a cat.”

I snickered. My cell phone started ringing, and I answered using FaceTime.

“Hey, sis!” Calvin said, smiling into his phone.

I waved, and Cheryl popped over to be seen.

“Hey, Brother!” she shouted, waving.

“Ah, two for the price of one. Digging the dreadlocks, little sister. I’m out in LA with the guys for some meetings and stuff, and I only have a few minutes before the next one starts. But I was calling to ask for your help, Maggie.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“I called Brooks, and he sounded pretty wasted when he answered. He wouldn’t talk to me for long, but I think he’s in bad shape. I know he told you he needed space, and I know you were only giving it to him because he gave you your space in the past, but this is different. I get him needing time to collect his thoughts, but I don’t think that’s what he’s doing. I think he’s doing the complete opposite, and I was hoping you could go check on him.”

The answer was yes. If Brooks was lost, I’d be there for him. In a heartbeat. Sometimes, when people thought they needed space, they really needed anything but.

Drive me up there? I asked my sister.

She nodded. “Of course.” She rubbed her stomach. “Can we stop for tacos, first? Because—tacos.”

Raindrops fell over the small town of Messa as Cheryl and I pulled up to the cabin. We unloaded my suitcases and went to the front porch. I’d knocked on the door a few times, receiving no reply from Brooks. My stomach was in knots, thinking the worst thoughts possible. I was thankful that Mrs. Boone gave me a spare key when she heard I was coming up to stay with Brooks for a while.

Turning the knob, the front door opened, and Brooks was nowhere to be found, which was odd, because his car was sitting parked out front.

Maybe he walked into town.

I took out my board. You can go, Cheryl.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t want you here if he’s nowhere to be found…”

I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll call you if I need anything.

She was hesitating to go, but after some convincing, she drove off. I waited in the living room, sitting on the couch for Brooks to return, but he didn’t. After some time, I grabbed an umbrella and headed outside to walk into town as the raindrops kept falling. When I reached the local library, I hurried inside, taking my writing board with me.

The library was huge for such a small town, and made me feel as if I were back in my bedroom, surrounded by my favorite stories. As I walked in, a woman sitting at the front desk smiled my way. She had a sweetness to her, with her chocolate eyes and short gray hair. Her nametag read Mrs. Henderson. “Hi, can I help you somehow?”

I began writing. I’m looking for someone, and not sure if he’s been seen lately.

She snickered. “Honey, I know it’s a library, but you don’t have to be that quiet.”

I grimaced, and tapped my throat, and shook my head back and forth.

She frowned. “Oh my, you can’t speak? I’m so sorry. Okay, well, who are you looking for?”

Brooks Griffin.

She narrowed her eyes. “Now don’t come up into this town playing the sweet card, and then turn out to be a stalker of that poor boy. He’s been through enough already. The last thing he needs is someone coming up to bother him for an autograph or something.”

I’m a friend.

“Prove it.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone, and showed her pictures of Brooks and me cuddling together.

She smiled. “Seems like you both are close friends. Okay, well, it’s raining so he can only be in one place. Come on, follow me. I’ll show you. But if it turns out that those pictures are Photoshopped, so help me I’ll call Lucas. He’s not only the town cop, but he’s my husband, too.”

She grabbed her umbrella, then walked me out of the library and across the road to the coast of Lake Messa.

“You see him?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“There.” She pointed out to the water. “That tiny speck is him. Him and his tiny canoe,” Mrs. Henderson said, staring in the same exact direction in which I stared. Brooks was seated in the middle of the lake in his solo canoe. The rain was hammering against him, but he seemed unfazed by it all. “He only goes out there when it rains, never on the sunny days.”

I cocked my head to Mrs. Henderson, filled with wonderment, and she shrugged before speaking again. “A lot of the townsfolk think he goes out there during the storms trying to drown.”

I knew better, though. I knew the best place in the world to try to breathe was beneath the water.

As the rain let up I started paddling back toward the cabin. It was late, around eleven at night when the rainclouds decided to move on to their next town. I tied the canoe up to the dock and ran my hands through my soaked hair, shaking off some of the excess water.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself, freezing my ass off. I wanted nothing more than to walk into the cabin, change my clothes, and crawl into bed. Yet as I dragged myself closer to the cabin, my chest tightened, seeing someone lying on the porch swing, sleeping. Damn paparazzi. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried to camp out at the cabin to get information from me, but normally the town sheriff, Lucas, was good at getting them to stay away.

After hours and hours of solitude in the water, I couldn’t handle some creep sitting outside the cabin, taking photos of me.

I marched over to the porch and huffed. “Listen, you asshole. Don’t you have something better to do than take fucking pictures of—” My voice faltered off as a sleepy Maggie started to wake, alert and alarmed. She jumped in her seat a bit, startled, reaching for her neck. When her eyes locked with mine, her hands eased back.