Page 22 of Good Directions

My phone buzzes again, earning me another smirk. “That Eliza?”

I look at him confused. How does he know my best friend’s name?

Oh wait, he saw my texts. Shit!

“None of your business.”

He replaces the floorboard in record time, kicking the rug back into place and popping back onto his feet. Stalking over to me, he stops right in front of me, looking down. My pulse skitters, betraying me.

“You can text her back and tell her it’s definitely the second part.”

The second…oh, that jackass…

No. It for sure is not. Whatever part of me ever thought about kissing him earlier has disappeared. The smugness radiating off him is more than enough to push anyone over the edge. Much more of this and I can’t be held responsible for my actions. And I’m pretty sure a jury of my peers will understand.

Justifiable bitch-slapping.

“The more you open your mouth, the less I’m sure anyone actually does that willingly,” I snark.

“Some girls do.”

For crying out loud…

“Sawyer! I grabbed us a pizza, I…oh!” Miss Belle stops short, just outside the door, her eyes wide as they land on her son. “So that was your truck. What are you doin’ here?”

“Glad you know what I drive, Mama,” Anton replies with a chuckle.

“Anton Wright Hayes,” Miss Belle scolds, not skipping a beat. Same as when she was talking to Ken at the diner, her sweet Southern demeanor flipped to zero tolerance faster than Superman’s speeding bullet. “Do not get mouthy with me.”

Anton goes still, both the grown man and the little boy inside him taking the reprimand wholeheartedly.

“Came by to get this,” he tells her, holding up the notebook. “We’re adding something new this year.”

Miss Belle rolls her eyes, holding up her hands in surrender. “I don’t want to know. Truly. You stayin’ for dinner?”

Anton tosses me a glance, our eyes locking for a second. I do my best to keep my face plain. To not give him any indication of what I want. Or any kind of fuel to continue to mock me. He has more than enough already.

“Nope,” he answers, not taking his eyes off me. “Wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Suit yourself. But then stop being rude to our guest and get out of Sawyer’s room!”

Anton nods, giving me another wink, then turning to go. He pauses briefly at the door, kissing his mother on the cheek, then disappears down the hall.

I hold my breath, waiting for him to reappear, like a bad jack-in-the-box. He doesn’t, though, and after a long moment I exhale, my lungs burning as I let it all go.

“I apologize for that. Despite how it may seem, he was raised better than that,” Miss Belle says, stepping into the room.

“You’re Belle Hayes,” I mutter.

“I am. Did you not know that?”

I shake my head, more than a little embarrassed to admit that I’m just now figuring this all out.

“Oh.” She walks in, gently sitting on the bed next to me. The mattress barely moves under her weight, as if even her sitting is the smoothest move on earth. “Well then, let me introduce myself properly. I’m Isabelle Huxley Hayes, but everyone just calls me Miss Belle. I’m married to Auggie, mama to Gus, Milo, Anton, Huxley, Jace, Ewan, and Willa—in that order—and grandmama to no one yet. Although Auggie and I are secretly hoping that changes soon now that some of the kids have started to settle down.”

“Nice to meet you.” I nod. “I’m still just Sawyer Brown of Hurricane Shoals.”

“Everyone’s favorite spring break destination. In fact, that’s where Willa and her friends went junior year. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Dustin Wild, but⁠—”