Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Shane

A storm was coming.

The day might have been mild enough, hell there was a sun shining up in the sky, but the wind brought a bone-deep chill. The pleasant weather wouldn't last for much longer.

Shane could feel the change in the air.

And in his body.

A dull ache in his left knee was the ultimate sign that something wicked was on its way.

"C'mon, Pumpkin!" Shane frowned as he held open the passenger door. His dog jumped out and immediately sat down leaning her stout body weight against his leg. Shane reached down to give her a scratch behind one ratty ear. "Good girl," he told her.

Pumpkin was more than a good girl.

She was the best girl.

So many folks looked at a pitbull mix and saw only a monster. Not Shane. He'd seen a sweetheart who only needed a gentle hand and a patient mind. It had taken him years to earn her trust and loyalty. She was worth every damn second. Pumpkin was the best dog and best friend anyone could ever have.

He took one last squint at the sky. All that color up there was beginning to look a little less blue and a lot more gray.

"We'll make this a quick one."

He gave her the signal to go and Pumpkin took off like a shot through the tree line to find the only open gate. She knew exactly where they were headed and bounded off ahead at full speed.

Shane followed after Pumpkin and briefly touched the brim of his baseball cap out of respect as he walked underneath the cemetery's archway.

* * *

"Hi, mama."

He brushed a stray leaf from his mother's headstone before he set down the bouquet. It was a simple grave for a woman who'd been proud to live a simple life. Granite stone with a straightforward engraving.

In loving memory of Charlene Harding, beloved mother.

The cemetery was silent and still. On the last day of autumn, all that yellow birch and red maple had thrown off the last few leaves they'd been wearing. Pumpkin nosed through the colorful leaf piles, happy to amuse herself as Shane had his visit.

He put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat as he looked over his mama's plot.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, he considered the deed done. His mama visited. The flowers placed. He was free to turn around and head back home.

Yet Shane found himself frozen underneath the darkening sky.

He felt as if he should say something, but what else was there for him to say? He"d always been a man of few words and his mama had never been much of a chatterbox herself. And there'd never been regrets after her passing. No secrets kept close to the chest and no wishes to have done things differently. No unspoken confessions.

In the handful of years since her death there was only one sentiment: Shane had loved her very much and missed her something fierce.

Still, that feeling of wanting lingered.

He stared at the empty plots next to his dear mama's grave. Someday he would join her. The whole Harding family would be reunited. Well, most of them. His daddy should have been at rest beside her but that piece of shit had taken off long ago. Hightailed it out of town and ran away to the big city.

He'd left his wife and son to fend for themselves.

Shane didn't miss his daddy much at all. Though at times it bothered him that he'd died so far away and been buried in a place made up of strangers.

With his jaw clenched tight and his head held high, he let out a whistle. The wind carried his call across the rows and rows of silent headstones. He took a few steps back in the direction of his truck. He'd dawdled long enough and the last thing he wanted to do was let the upcoming storm trap him.

Or let the past catch up with him.

Shane whistled again, that one even louder and sharper than the last. Pumpkin still didn't show, but she did answer his call with a series of barks.

Shane's eyebrows knitted together. His dog didn't sound in distress, more like she was brimming over with excitement. She must have found herself a squirrel or something.

He set off after Pumpkin, passing quiet rows of tombstones and walking underneath balded trees. Shane huddled up his shoulders as he hiked up over a mossy hill, readjusting his baseball cap to make sure it was under no threat of being swept away.

One more wary look upward all but confirmed what he already knew: the storm was coming on fast.

"Pumpkin!" he called out. As Shane reached the hill's crown, he clapped his hands together and let out another whistle. He stopped and peered at the next plot of graves below. Down that way were the youngest townies who'd passed onto the afterlife. Those who'd met their ends only a few short years ago.

Fresh flowers galore and even a few balloons decorated those graves. Shane spotted something else new. Or more like someone. His mouth fixed into a frown as he watched his dog run circles around a slim masculine figure. Pumpkin made three laps before the young man held out an empty hand and she ran up to that stranger like he was no stranger at all.

Where in the hell did her sense of stranger danger go?

Shane hurried down the hill but was surprised by the other man rushing to meet him halfway. Pumpkin was hot on the stranger's heels, yapping away cheerfully, happy and excited as if all three of them were in the middle of a friendly game of chase.

He called out Pumpkin's name with another clap, but there was no putting a stop to her parade. She continued past him and went up the hill with her tail wagging a mile an hour.

At the top she finally sat down, panting hard and wearing a winner's smile with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.

"Her name is Pumpkin?"

"Yeah."

"Pumpkin as in the pie or the vegetable?" the younger man asked with an even more winsome smile.

"Just…pumpkin as in pumpkin."

The question startled Shane. He'd never given the name any special thought and didn't try to make nice with the man.

Or more like the boy.

He had a spotless pale face without so much as a single wrinkle. Shane wouldn't be surprised to hear he was a college boy, but he didn't bother to ask. No point to that. All it took was one glance down at the younger man's feet to glean who he was and what he was about.

Those weren't work boots.

A set of fancy leather loafers like that belonged to a man with no business being in a town like Hope Peak. No doubt that boy was one of those tourists. Seemed like the invasion was underway already.

Shane turned right around and started back the way he came. The stranger followed Pumpkin's lead: he didn't treat Shane like a stranger either. The boy trudged up the hill alongside Shane like they were old buddies.

"Milo."

"What?" Shane grunted.

"Milo Dawson. That's my name."

The boy gave his name like Shane was supposed to do something with it when he'd never even asked. Shane didn't care to know the boy's name. Just like Shane didn't care about those big brown eyes or a smile that was wide and bright enough to replace the missing sun.

No, no, he didn't care about any of that at all. That's what Shane told himself as they reached the top of the hill and paused there. Pumpkin went ahead and raced toward the bottom, but once there she sat down to let them catch up. He would have followed right after her if Milo hadn't stuck out his hand for a proper introduction. Shane's sense of manners finally caught up with him. He removed his hands from the pockets of his jeans and caught Milo's small hand and slender fingers in a handshake.

"It's nice to meet you."

Soft voice. Soft touch.

There wasn't an inch of roughness to be found anywhere on him. Shane had to wonder how Milo was able to move through the world without being torn to pieces. Even his eyes were soft. A subtle brown that reminded Shane of spring-fresh garden dirt.

"Yeah, sure thing."

Shane let out another grunt and kept on walking. He shoved his hands back into his pockets. His livelihood would never rely on the curiosity or naivety of tourists so there was little point to him faking friendliness.

"So, um. What's your name?" Milo prodded. He was undeterred by Shane's gruff behavior and eagerly fell into step by Shane's side as they went down the hill.

"Shane."

He gave up his name but nothing else.

Milo didn't seem to mind and had no problem carrying on the conversation alone, chatting away without a lick of hesitation. "I'm new in town. It's so nice here, I'm glad this is where I decided to settle down."

Fuck. It took all of Shane's self-control not to blurt it out loud. He swallowed the curse instead, his Adam's apple bobbing hard as he did. Shane didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. It was bad enough to hear the tourists were invading his home and using it for their vacation, but the idea that some of them might put down roots there..?

Shane didn't want to think about that.

And he didn't want to talk anymore to Milo either. He'd learned enough. Both about that boy and about the town's precarious future if rich folks started buying up all the land.

"And I'm glad I found you too, Shane. I think I got myself turned around. I'm looking for a particular grave. Would you know where—"

He cut off Milo's question before the boy could finish turning it into one. "No, afraid not. The grave keeper would show you the way, but he'll have taken off by now. What with the storm coming."

Milo's walk slowed as he cast a doubtful look up at the sky. "Surely it's just a drizzle?"

"A storm," Shane repeated and the need for repetition sowed an annoyance that made Shane's jaw click and his dark eyebrows furrow together.

Pumpkin knew it was time to go. She made a bee-line for the parking lot.

As did Shane. And so did Milo, thankfully, though Shane attributed that relief to the fact that he'd soon be alone.

All three of them made it to the cemetery's paltry parking lot. That was when Shane took note of the only other vehicle there. Milo, predictably enough, didn't have a truck. All he had was a little sedan, so clean and new Shane would have bet anything that the inside still smelt like a car dealership.

"Well. It really was nice to meet you," Milo called out as he fiddled with his keys. "I hope I'll see you and Pumpkin around town."

Shane flung open the passenger door to his truck. Pumpkin hopped into her seat, but let out a sorrowful whine as he closed it. She pressed her nose against the glass, all her attention focused on what Milo was doing over in his car.

The sedan might have been shiny and new, but it made an unhealthy clicking noise as Milo started the engine.

A miracle that the car had even got up the road there to the cemetery. It'd be another miracle for the car to make it back down and into town. The awful clicking stopped and then Milo's car didn't make any sound at all.

Shane stared at the sky and tried to summon his apathy. It didn't work.

Goddamn. He turned on his heel and stepped forward, rapping his knuckles against the side of Milo's door and spoke through the crack in Milo's window. "You ain't gonna make it outta here like that. C'mon, I'll give you a lift."

Milo nodded and finally had the decency to look embarrassed. "Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any trouble."

The boy might have been from the city, but he had a polite way to him. Shane was faintly surprised by that, maybe even a little curious, but those feelings were soon pushed away.

No time for idle chit-chat or false pleasantries.

"No trouble," he grunted, "but we gotta go."

Shane stepped back and held open the passenger door for Milo. Pumpkin's judgmental manner turned joyful. It'd be a tight fit with his dog and the boy all sitting in the front of the truck with him, but they'd make do. He shooed Pumpkin over and ordered her to sit in the middle to make space for their extra passenger.

"Hold on, I need my things."

"Be quick about it," Shane told him.

Milo fetched a backpack, a duffel bag, and a few other pieces of luggage out of his car. Shane would have helped, but hand to heart, he kept thinking each thing Milo grabbed must be the last. How had he packed so much shit into such a small car? All but the backpack were slung into the bed of Shane's truck, still plenty of room there despite Shane's stockpile from his trip to the store.

He only had to arrange a few things first. Shane did it in record time and thumped the hood of the truck before he got into the driver's seat. Milo squeezed the backpack between his knees as if the wind might blow it away.

"Let's go," Shane said as he started up the engine, "we got a storm to beat."