Buried in a Book (Novel Idea, #1)

I rolled over, squinted at him, and then let my heavy lids fall shut again. “What time is it?” My words came out in a gravelly mumble.

“Eight. Didn’t you tell Officer Griffiths you’d be at the station by nine?”

I rolled over, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into the numbness of sleep. Only the fact that I would see Sean again prompted me to reply, “Okay, I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

Under the streaming water in the shower, last night’s events played through my mind. The image of Carson hovering over me with the needle made me shudder. I turned the shower knob, coaxing the water to turn hotter, and tried to focus on the memory of sitting by the campfire instead of being trapped inside Marlette’s cabin with a killer.

Not long after Sean left, Jasper and Trey had secured my Vespa onto the bed of the community’s Ford F-150 pickup truck. Jasper handed Trey the keys and told me to take care.

Back at my mother’s, I had called Sean and told him I’d come to the station in the morning. Trey had insisted on staying the night. He waited until I slipped into bed before tiptoeing down the stairs to fill my mother in on what had transpired on the mountain. I’d drifted to sleep to the murmur of their voices, feeling comforted and protected by their presence.

Now, as I wiped the shower steam from the mirror, the bruises on my neck glared an angry plum color in the reflection of the damp glass. The imprints left by Carson’s hands were like a brand, a sign of how close I’d come to losing my life. With Carson in custody, was it really all over?

Gingerly, I did my best to hide the marks beneath a layer of creamy foundation. I then tried to decide what to wear, though this seemed to be an insurmountable task. All I wanted was the familiar comfort of my loose gray sweats, but their color reminded me too much of Carson’s cold eyes. Besides, I needed something more appropriate for work. In the end, I chose a pair of navy slacks and a cream-colored tunic that I accessorized with a patterned silk scarf to cover my bruises.

As I stepped out of my room, coffee and pancake aromas filtered up the stairs. I slowly made my way to the kitchen, determined to face this day as though it were any other.

My mother’s voice drifted out into the hall.

“You’d best pick the right time to tell your mama,” she cautioned. “She’s gonna have a hissy fit when she hears your plan.”

“Yeah,” Trey agreed. “I’m thinking now’s not the right time.”

“For what?” I asked, stepping into the room. They both looked at me with wide eyes. Sitting at the table, my mother sipped from a mug decorated with gold and silver astrological signs. Trey stood at the stove with a spatula in his hands. The frying pan sizzled. I was too stunned to say anything more. My son was cooking breakfast!

“Um.” Trey turned back around and flipped pancakes. “I’ve decided not to go to college,” he said to the stove. “I’m staying at the co-op.”

“Trey, you can’t! The co-op isn’t a career choice; it’s an experience!” I sputtered. “You can’t support yourself with an experience. Think about your future.”

“Now, sug.” My mother stood and poured me a cup of coffee. “Sit on down and have your coffee. You’re strung tighter than a banjo. The boy is simply explorin’ his options.”

I took the mug and attempted to compose myself.

“Okay, Trey, what are you thinking?”

Rather than answering, Trey placed a plate in front of me. “Here, Mom. I made blueberry flapjacks. Your favorite. And this syrup is from the co-op. Eat up.”

I picked up my fork and put a piece of his creation in my mouth. Tart blueberries burst in the cakey sweetness of the pancake, and I nodded appreciatively, cutting another wedge off with my fork. “Delicious, Trey. Thank you. But making me breakfast doesn’t get you off the hook. You know that college—”

“Mom, please.” He sat down across from me. “I like it at Red Fox, and I’m only just discovering what I’m good at. I don’t want to quit right now. College would totally disrupt my journey of self-discovery and—”

“Journey of self-discovery?” I exclaimed. “What kind of mumbo jum—” A glare from my mother made me stop midsentence.

Trey snatched his opportunity and stood. “I’ve gotta go. I have to make a delivery this morning. Talk to you later.” He kissed my cheek and was out the door.

I glowered at my mother. “You’re encouraging him to take this flight of fancy, but in this day and age, he needs to go to college if he wants any kind of secure future.”

“He’s still a young colt, Lila. He’s got plenty of time to have a little fun before he gets stuck behind some cubicle like a racehorse in a stall.” She began to clear dishes from the table. “Let him sow his oats for a while.”