Page 3 of Turn of the Tides
Colbie’s gaze darted around the bar frantically. “Presley?Presley!” she practically shouted.
I dropped the pencil I’d been using to work on the staff schedule and raised my hand in the air. “I’m right here, crazy.”
“Oh, thank god you’re here. I was going to try calling or texting, but I lost my phone again.” That had to have been the third time this month. I loved my best friend dearly. We’d been thick as thieves since I moved to town back in middle school and she’d been more than a little scatterbrained the whole time.
“Uh...” I held my hands up at my sides. “I’m always here at this time. Where else would I be?”
She gave me a start when she grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me into her, hugging me so tight my ribs groaned and my lungs nearly popped like overinflated balloons.
“Colbie—” I croaked, but she cut me off.
“Shh,” she cooed in my ear as she petted the back of my hair. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s all going to be just fine, I promise.”
“Jeez, Colbs, loosen up, would you?” I managed to squirm out of her hold and sucked in a deep breath. “Good lord, woman. What’s gotten into you? You’re acting even crazier than usual. Shouldn’t you be at work right now?”
“I just came from there. I’m on my break right now.”
I raised my brows and teased, “And you didn’t bring me a coffee? Rude.” Colbie worked as a barista at the local coffee shop, Drip. The girl might have been a tad flighty, but she could make one hell of a cup of coffee, and the owner, Monica Killborne, liked to claim that she couldn’t run the place without her.
She looked at me with wide, bewildered eyes. “Wait. You haven’t heard?”
I shook my head, my brows dipping in confusion. “Heard what?”
“Shit,” she hissed before clamping her mouth shut and rolling her lips between her teeth.
“Colbie,” I said, warning in my tone. “What’s going on?”
She began shifting from foot to foot anxiously, “Um . . . well . . .”
I swiveled around on my stool, pinning her with a look. “Start talking.”
She let out an exasperated puff of air. “All right. Well, Iwasworking at the coffee shop earlier, and Monica told me something.” She paused again like she was building up the courage to finish. “Then a bunch of customers came in and were all talking about it. I didn’t believe it at first, but then Luna showed me an article on her phone.” She rolled her eyes. “I could have looked it up myself if could find my freaking phone?—”
I held up my hand to stop her from saying any more. “Colbie, babe, you’re rambling. And your phone probably fell under the driver seat of your car again.”
She smacked her forehead. “Gah! I didn’t even think to look there. I should go check now.”
I grabbed her by the elbow before she could take off. “Colbie, focus.”
Her attention returned to me. “Right.”
“What did you see in some article that had you rushing over here to check on me?”
Her face pulled into a wince. “It was about Beau Wade.”
Tension poured into my body, coating every muscle and joint until I felt as stiff and brittle as a stale pretzel stick. It took serious effort to keep my expression neutral, to not give away that my blood was suddenly cold and my heart was racing, but I managed. I’d gotten really good at it. I didn’t have much of a choice, after all. Not in Whitecap.
Beau Wade was this town’s golden child, the good ol’ small-town boy who went on to make it to the bigtime. The famous football player everyone could brag about and be so damn proud of.
It was as if going pro was reason enough for everyone to forget all about the spoiled, entitled little shithead who got off on relentlessly tormenting those he felt were beneath him. For some reason, I had been his favorite punching bag back then. All through middle school, high school, and into college, that prick had taken special exception with me, going out of his way to make my life a living nightmare.
For all the love he got from everyone in this freaking town, that was how much I hated the bastard. The best day of my life was when he’d been drafted into the NFL, all the way to Arizona. I didn’t even care that he was getting to live his dream by going pro like he’d always wanted, because it meant he wasleaving. I mean, sure, it might have been nice if justoncethe asshole got what was coming to him instead of everything he freaking wanted, but finally, I’d get some peace from the never-ending ridicule and teasing. I didn’t have to worry about the one-upmanship and competition—the childish games he always forced me into, time after time, whether I wanted to play or not.
I hummed, trying my best to come off like I didn’t care as I looked back down at the schedule I’d been working on before Colbie burst in like a psychotic hurricane. But if there was one person who could see right through me, it was Colbie. She’d been there every time Beau made me cry or rage or any of the other unpleasant things he made me feel.
“What about Beau Wade?”
“Well, uh . . . he—he’s coming back.”