Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

own always took so much effort; I’d tried to get some here and look who showed up.

“So,” I said. “We’re going to give him time. He’s got his phone. I’ll text him later and see if you guys can go over.”

“Will you come with us? When we go see him?” Charlie had a way of asking questions that by themselves seemed innocent, but if I read into them, I’d get mired in a load of trouble. Again, the kid was keeping me honest.

“Not this time, Charlie. Your dad told me what he wanted, and I’d like to respect his decision. But he loves you very much, and I’m certain he’ll have time to see you today.” So confident was I Theo wouldn’t make the kids suffer for the sins of their mother.

“Okay.” Charlie leapt from his chair and looped his arms around me. “What’s the plan for today then?”

Thankfully, Charlie got caught up in what the shape of the day would be. He gathered the girls together, found Delia’s and Lexie’s wind jackets and sneakers, and with as much patience as he could muster, helped Mom and me prepare snacks for the afternoon. As we hauled everything to the wagon, I looked at my little man with warmth and love and wondered if this separate family would not become the new normal for us.

Chapter 27: Theo

 

Space. Is that what I’d called it? Space to think. Fuck that. Space wasn’t going to help me any more than time would, and I’d used that word too. My wife wanted someone else, and I wanted to crawl under a rock and never come back out. Actually, that was too tame a description for what I wanted to do. A bullet to the heart would hurt less than this shit, wouldn’t it? And a bullet to the heart at least would be instantaneous. Not like this. Liam might beg to differ, but he wasn’t here to argue. Hadn’t been for a while. My chest threatened to cave in, and I streamlined my breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three.

A few more seconds passed, and I heaved myself off the bed before pounding the wall of my room at the Inn. Not enough to damage the wall but enough to scrape the skin of my knuckles. Again. Shit. Sleep hadn’t been within my reach—flickering images of past and present Walloon memories featuring Sadie had kept me awake—and my reflection in the mirror told the story of a crazed man. Hair up at odd angles, shadows beneath his eyes. A man ruined by his wife’s words, strung together into news she wanted someone else. Andrew no less. Andrew fucking MacKinnon. What the hell? Had he known all this time my complicated relationship involved Sadie? Talk about a Lifetime movie. Sadie didn’t have all the details yet. What would she say when she found out?

But Andrew was here—I had seen him—and that meant finding him would be a possibility. My recon skills were second to none, and in this small village, it wouldn’t take long. He had to hear me out because I had to know: Who would stab a brother in the back the way he did?

First: a shower. Second: a trip to the general store. Third: a lambasting of Andrew MacKinnon.

The steam from the shower did nothing to tamp my nervous energy, so I dried off, threw clothes on, and slugged a cup of coffee in the lobby of the Inn. Texts from Sadie would go unanswered—if she sent them. But I knew enough about her to trust she would respect my wishes. For time. For space. That word again. My fingers shook as I gulped the last of my coffee and slid the cup away from me. A bite of bagel, and my day began.

The bell above the door of the general store chimed as I walked through the entrance. Mike looked up, concern flaring on his face.

“You okay, man? You look like shit.”

Mike had never been one to mince words. A decade of summer friendship had taught me that.

“Not my best day. Do you know a guy named Andrew MacKinnon? Tall, dark hair...”

“From around your neck of the woods. Yeah. He’s the librarian’s son, Pickles Martin. Great guy. Great kids too—”

“Well that’s just great then. Any idea where I’ll find him?” Thunder roared in my ears, and it took me a minute to realize it was the blood pushing through my body and not a late fall thunderstorm outside. I pressed a hand to my ear, hoping to lessen the noise.

“When he comes up, he stays with his mom. But he’s probably out and about right now. Usually has work over in East Jordan to attend to. I don’t have his number, but I’m pretty sure he’s over on East Street. Are you sure you’re okay? Can I help you with anything?”

“No. It’s okay. You’ve done enough.” Before I pivoted, I slapped the counter. “Sorry. Too much going on right now.”

“Well let me know—”

Sticking around to hear the rest of Mike’s words wasn’t part of my plan. Instead, I pounded the pavement and made my way to the library. His mom might be there. She’d tell me where he was.

A lukewarm breeze from the vestibule met my face as I opened the door of the library. Posters advertising every event and service offered in Walloon Lake lined the walls. Once I’d made it into the lobby of the library, a general hush, a calming, settled over me. The thumping in my head waned, and the constriction in my chest eased. Looking right and left, I saw no one. Where was everyone?

“May I help you?” a voice sounded. Not a woman’s voice, but a voice that sounded a little like Liam’s, or at least my memory of his voice. It came from a man, who stood to my right. Deep-set eyes, dark with interest. “You look like help is what you need.”

“Meaning?”

“Your aura is reaching out to me. You’re lost. You’re