Chapter 4

The gym had been my sanctuary again that morning, in more ways than one. Not only was I happy to take a shower somewhere my brother hadn't been having sex, but it also gave me the mental boost I needed to get through another day.

I loved my family and was proud of the business they'd built, but there were days when I wanted to scream from the monotony of it all.

That was when I came here.

To my secret lair.

I chuckled at the thought of calling a musty old shed a secret lair. But it was. Originally, I'd gotten it just to keep all the stuff I didn't want to bring to Van's place but then I realized I could paint there. Mr. Donald let me use it for free since I usually helped him out with fixing the fence line on his property. So I just propped the door open a bit and ran a fan while I worked.

I feathered my brush against the canvas, blending the colors into a gradient. Usually after an hour of working on my latest piece, I was in a much better mood. Painting gave me an outlet for all my destructive energy. I could explode on the canvas and rage with color. Then after expelling all my emotions, I could go to work and shelve paint and cabinet hardware.

But today it wasn't working. I was just as unsettled as when I got here.

Maybe it was all the uncertainty with my living situation but as I stared at the canvas, I wondered what the hell I was doing.

Frustrated, I dropped my brush on the edge of the easel. Maybe I was wasting my time. The walls of the unit were now lined with finished canvases but that didn't mean they were any good.

I sighed.

For years, I'd lived and worked with no further goals than to have a comfortable life and maybe build a house one day. Lately though, I'd felt this uncertainty about the future. A restless longing for something different.

For a while, I thought Janelle could fill that longing. We'd gotten along well enough, and she enjoyed the same simple life. She worked two towns over as a receptionist at a small law firm. She was content to come home after work and watch movies or hang out with family.

I'd dated city girls before and usually they were cool with small-town living until one day they suddenly … weren't. Janelle's parents were locals, so she had the same deep connection to Violet Ridge that I did. I never had to worry that one day she'd decide this town was too small for her and leave it behind.

Janelle had only wanted us to take the next steps. It was a logical thing after being together for almost a year and living together for the last six months. I mean really, where else did I think things between us were going? You dated, you got engaged, and then you got married. That was how things were done, especially in small towns.

She hadn't done anything wrong expecting our relationship to follow that same predictable pattern.

I was the one who was changing.

I was the one wondering what else might be out there if I was brave enough to go after it.

Lately, I'd been thinking about what I was doing with my art. Was it enough for me to do it in secret and never show it to anyone? Some people created art solely for their own enjoyment and that was fine. Everyone didn't have a driving need to be famous or even to make money from what they created.

But was that enough for me?

Not having the answer to that question bothered me more than I cared to admit.

Not that it really mattered since nothing I was working on was coming out the way I intended. Every piece I'd done in the last month started well and then devolved into an unfocused mess. Rage painting was great for dealing with my frustration, but it wasn't anything I could display.

When my phone rang, I was a little too eager to snatch it up. Santana's picture flashed across the screen.

"Hey, sis."

"Where are you? Are you at work?"

Of course, that would be the first thing she asked.

"No. I don't go in until this afternoon. Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to tell you I found you a place to live!"

Tana's voice told me she would have been doing jazz hands if she'd been standing in front of me. Despite her excitement, something about the way she'd said it made me pause.

"You found me an apartment? That's great. Where is it?"

"Um, I'll send you the directions."

I stared at the phone after she hung up. That was weird even for Tana. In a town as small as ours, directions were a bit of a joke. There weren't that many houses in town that you'd need directions. Usually we would just say "the other side of Main Street" or "the houses by the train tracks."

My phone dinged.

TanaBanana

I really think this might be perfect for you.

TanaBanana

Keep an open mind, okay?

TanaBanana

The house is adorable.

I called Tana but she didn't pick up. With a sigh, I put down my paintbrush. I might as well go ahead and clean up early. I needed to check this place out. Otherwise, the suspense was going to kill me.

I loved my little sister but her idea of adorable might not fit mine.

When my eyes landed on the muddy canvas in front of me again, I stood up. Maybe it was time that I came back down to planet earth and got my head out of the clouds. Painting was fun but maybe that was all it was meant to be.

I didn't need some stupid art fair to know who I was. I was Hendrix Evers, son of the best parents ever and brother to some of the biggest pains in the asses ever born.

That was all I needed to know.

* * *

By the time I cleaned my brushes, it was just a little after noon. As I wiped the sweat from the side of my face, I realized that I was going to need another shower.

I'd been on the verge of calling Tana again when a text message had come through with directions. I hoped the owners of the place didn't mind me dropping in unexpectedly. Since Tana wasn't taking my calls, I couldn't even ask her to let them know I was coming. I definitely didn't feel like hearing my dad bitch about me being late again so I would just stop in quickly to see what was up.

Keep an open mind, okay?

If that wasn't a red flag, I didn't know what was. There was definitely something going on. I was picturing a little old lady with white lace doilies on all the chairs.

It was humid in the cab of my truck, so I rolled all the windows down. Hopefully whatever senior citizen I was going to meet up with wouldn't judge me too harshly for showing up sweaty and unshaven because I was far too curious to bother going home first to shower.

I stared down at the message again, my earlier hesitation coming back full force. The turn-by-turn directions were a dead giveaway that something was up. Otherwise, she would have just given me the address.

I hung my head. Lace doilies were definitely in my future.

Keeping one eye on the road and the other on the directions in Tana's text message, I carefully made my way through town.

From Main Street turn left on Sycamore Road.

Then keep going straight past the old mill.

Right on Oak Lane.

With each new turn, a strange sense of familiarity started buzzing in the back of my brain. Not that being familiar was unexpected; this was Violet Ridge, after all. But I had a sudden idea why Tana hadn't wanted me to know where I was going.

The last turn onto Cedar Avenue slammed the feeling home. I pulled to a stop in front of a faded blue Victorian. I hadn't been here in years and the last time it had been painted white, but there was no doubt that this was the place. Which made no sense at all because Gran Grace had been dead for about ten years and no one had lived there since.

Unless the house had sold?

I called Tana but it went straight to voicemail. "Tana, I don't know what?—"

Then I saw the car in the driveway. A sleek, black Audi sedan.

With New York plates.