I read the note again . . . and then again. Each time my brow pinched tighter. I glanced up at the few words I’d managed to get out during my break, then let my face fall into the pages of the notebook as a groan escaped me.

I sat down right there, behind the greeter’s desk of Mama’s Café, and rewrote the small part I already had, and added the words that were now flowing to my fingers because of the smallest change this stranger had made.

Who listens to your sad songs

The shoulder that you cry on

Out on that ledge you walk on

When you’re sinking

Who knows your keeps your secrets locked up

When I’m there’s no one you can trust

I know it’s much more than just wishful thinking

Just say the words and I’ll be there

The last line I threw in because of the stranger’s note, and smiled to myself at the words. Then below their note, I wrote my own response:

I’m sorry if I scared you, but I’m not suicidal. (I believe that’s what you were thinking?) This is actually about a pseudo-relationship with a guy. I appreciate your words, and I believe anyone who had been thinking of ending their life would have loved receiving your note. As much as I want to know who this heroic stranger is, I need to get home. However, I will leave this here in hopes that you find it, and that it gives you peace of mind.

I stood and placed my notebook on top of the desk with a note below asking for the notebook to be left there. Then, despite the way my body rebelled at the action, I forced myself to walk away from my notebook and out of Mama’s Café.

Chapter Four

Charlie

May 30, 2016

I PULLED INTO the alleyway beside the warehouse minutes later, my mind still reeling from the stranger who had taken the time to write to someone they didn’t know. I brought Jagger’s car to an abrupt stop when I saw Keith dart from the warehouse to the front of my car, where it still sat from that morning.

I watched as he disappeared behind the propped-up hood of my car, and my stomach dropped.

I looked around the alleyway, but saw only Grey’s car in its usual spot. I tried to think if I’d seen any other cars parked on the street on my way in, but I’d been so consumed in another’s words that I hadn’t been paying attention.

My fingers danced anxiously on the steering wheel as I contemplated leaving, or finding another way to get into the warehouse—like a window—where I wouldn’t have to walk past my car, and eventually I blew out a harsh, determined breath.

For all I knew, Jagger was attempting to figure out the problem with my car again. Doubtful, but not completely improbable.

But no matter how many times I told myself that my brother was there, I knew better. I knew who was standing behind that hood. And just the thought of seeing him made my stomach clench and my body tremble.

I pulled Jagger’s car behind mine and shut it off. With another deep breath in, I stepped out and walked toward the sound of my son’s animated voice. Each step felt weighed down and harder than the one before it.

When his voice wove between Keith’s words, I faltered.

This was the problem with Thatch. There were no strangers in this town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business. And there was nowhere to hide.

Shops closed down if the owners wanted to go spend time on the lake, and businesses made house calls.

Like the auto repair shop: Danny’s Garage.

Like the mechanics there.

Especially when the owner’s son was Deacon Carver.

Maybe I needed to leave. Take Keith and find a place to live somewhere outside this town. Because attempting to hide from the guy whose family practically owned Thatch was proving to be impossible.

“Aliens came from a spot in the sky.”

“Aliens!” Deacon said in a shocked voice. “Where?”

Keith sighed. “They’re not here anymore. I’m Iron Man. I made them go back.”

Deacon sighed dramatically. “Kid, I don’t know what the world would do without you.”

“I know,” Keith said seriously. “But that’s why no one can fix Mommy’s car, not even you! Because aliens hurted it.”

I walked into their view in time to see Deacon fighting a smile, his mouth slightly open to respond. But his large frame tensed when he caught sight of me, and his mouth fell into a sneer.

Irrational, betraying heart.

“Mommy!” Keith shouted as he barreled into my legs.

“Hey, honey,” I said softly, and ran a hand through his hair as he began talking a mile a minute.

“Mommy, Deaton’s tryin’ to fix your car, but I told him he couldn’t fix your car. Because the aliens came after it. Right, Mommy? But I’m Iron Man and I made them go away so they can’t come after any more cars.”

“I heard. I could’ve sworn I was woken up by Captain America this morning.”

He sighed. “That was like, five years ago!”

“Oh, of course,” I said as I fought my own smile, and turned us toward the warehouse. “Why don’t we go inside so Deacon can work?”

My son’s face fell, but it was Deacon who responded.

“He isn’t bothering me,” he said in a gruff voice.

There was an odd pang in my chest as his words from the day before mixed with his implication then. Embarrassed heat crawled up my face, and despite how hard I tried not to, I looked over my shoulder at the angry scowl on his face.

Light brown eyes were narrowed on me, as cold as ever.

Again, the way he looked at me made me feel as though I deserved his anger—and I wanted to hate him for it.

“Keith, go inside.”

“But—”

“Go inside,” I whispered, but my tone left no room for discussion.

After an exaggerated huff, he trudged into the warehouse.

My embarrassment and hurt and anger snapped with the sound of the door shutting. “What did I ever do to you?” I demanded through clenched teeth, and turned to fully face Deacon as he pushed from my car, and rose to his full height.

“To me? Not a damn thing.”

A frustrated laugh burst from my chest, but my eyes pricked as tears gathered in them. “Then why have—why are you—I don’t understand . . .” I trailed off, fumbling for the words as he slowly closed the distance between us.

For each step he took toward me, I took two back.