LITMIR.BIZ

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thought twisted his gut. This one little fact, his belief that Shayna would have clued Cristine in, worried him more than anything else.

      Glancing again at Zoe, he couldn’t help but wonder how she and Cristine would get along. Both women thought of themselves as Shayna’s best friend. They couldn’t be more dissimilar, except for the fact that they both loved her.

      Cocking his head, he listened to low murmur of voices as Zoe and Mrs. Bell talked in the kitchen. The sound brought back old memories. As teens and young adults, he and Zoe and Shayna had spent a good bit of their time hanging out at the Bells’ house. Partly because of Mama Bell’s amazing cooking, and partly because the place always felt warm and welcoming, Brock had come to consider it his second home.

      As nostalgia filled him, he grimaced. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed those days. Or that part of them, at least. He was over the Zoe part. Completely.

      A few minutes later, he heard the sizzle of the frying pan, and then the heavenly smell of Mama Bell’s fried chicken filled the air.

      On cue, his stomach growled, making him grimace at himself. Suddenly the delectable fried chicken had become a gateway to a past he’d put behind him. Life had been...good. He had a routine, a rhythmic sameness to his days that felt soothing, and maybe just the tiniest bit boring.

      Not anymore. Now that very same peaceful existence had been turned on its ear. He didn’t like change. Never had. But starting with Shayna’s abrupt disappearance, his ordinary life had been thrown into upheaval. He’d tried searching for her, just as he had for Zoe when she’d left. Both times, he’d found nothing but heartache.

      Now Zoe was here. Zoe, whom he’d loved more than life itself.

      And, though she had no idea, he owed her. It had been because of her prodding that he’d gone to broadcast school after graduating high school, because of her bugging him that he’d applied for an internship at a radio station in one of the largest markets in the country. He’d been accepted right after she abandoned him before their wedding. Of course, fate had other ideas. As he’d been packing to move to New York City, his father had suffered a massive heart attack and died, leaving Brock to pick up the pieces. Someone had to run the feed store and take care of his younger sister Eve, who’d only been thirteen at the time.

      Reluctantly, Brock had given up his dreams. He worked occasionally on the night shift at a local country music station, when he wasn’t running the feed store. Unlike Zoe, he’d stayed right here in Anniversary, where he had family and responsibilities. His aging mother and baby sister depended on him, as did the local farmers and ranchers who relied on the feed store for their supplies.

      While it wasn’t the life he’d wanted, it was the life he had. Brock believed he’d made the best of it. He’d even managed to find a sort of happiness. Or so he’d thought, until he’d seen Zoe’s face again.

      He could only hope Shayna showed back up. Maybe then Zoe would go home, Mr. Bell wouldn’t feel compelled to leave, and life around Anniversary could return to normal.

      Except for one thing. Seeing Zoe again had reopened that aching, empty space inside his heart, the place only she could fill. He’d managed to forget how much he missed her. Until now.

      And he sure as hell didn’t like it. Not one bit.

      If not for the tantalizing scent of the chicken frying, he’d have already made an excuse to leave. Instead, he was still lost in thought when Mrs. Bell reappeared in the doorway. “We’re just about ready. Are you going to join us?”

      “Yes. Sorry.” He set the flyer down on the coffee table. “I was just...thinking.”

      Mrs. Bell smiled sadly and touched his arm. “You miss her, too, don’t you?”

      Startled, he swallowed. It took a second, but he realized she meant Shayna, not Zoe. Again, guilt squeezed his chest. Instead of answering, he ducked his head and headed toward the kitchen.

      A heaping platter of perfectly golden fried chicken sat in the middle of the table. Keeping his gaze locked on that rather than Zoe, who stood at the stove stirring something, Brock took a seat. His mouth watered.

      “That looks wonderful, Mrs. Bell.”

      “I made rice and butter beans to go with it,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Marshall’s late. He’d better get here soon or he’s going to miss his favorite meal.”

      Brock debated whether or not to mention that Marshall had been in to the feed store, but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t running interference for the man.

      Zoe moved closer, taking a seat directly across from him. He looked up, unable to help himself, and his mouth went dry. With her delicate features and full mouth, she’d always been beautiful—now she was exquisite. Her skin glowed against a soft curtain of sable hair. She was polished and fashionable in a way that only served to remind him she didn’t belong in Anniversary.

      “Help yourself.” Mrs. Bell pulled out her own chair, passing Brock a bowl full of plump butter beans. “You’ll have to take a plate to Eve. Her apartment is on your way home. I know how your sister loves my fried chicken.”

      “Everyone loves your fried chicken,” Zoe teased. Her lighthearted tone reminded him of the old Zoe, the one who’d spent the day at the lake with him, worn old cutoff shorts and one of his ratty T-shirts, and let the sun warm her freckled nose. Now, as far as he could tell, not a single imperfection marred her perfect, creamy skin.

      “I wonder where Marshall is,” Mrs. Bell mused again. “It’s not like him to be this late without calling.”

      “Try his cell,” Zoe said, wiping her hands on one of the paper napkins piled in the center of the table.

      “No, that’s all right.” A shadow crossed the older woman’s face. “He’ll come home when he comes home.”

      Zoe stared hard at her, then returned her attention to spooning rice and butter beans onto her plate. When she’d finished, she slid the bowls over to him, taking care not to accidentally touch his fingers.

      He was glad, he told himself. Damn glad.

      Silence fell while they all dug in. The crispy chicken had been cooked exactly right, and the seasoning made the flavor explode in his mouth. He had three pieces and could easily have had more, but he didn’t want to appear gluttonous.

      “That was wonderful,” he said, putting down his fork and pushing his plate away. “I’m stuffed. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

      “Oh, you’re welcome, dear.” Mrs. Bell looked from him to Zoe and then back. “So.” Her smile looked a bit forced, and her voice sounded overly bright. “Zoe tells me you and Shayna were splitting up.”

      He glanced over at Zoe, who shrugged.

      “We were.” He cleared his throat. “She was planning on moving out. I’m sorry she didn’t tell you.”

      “Apparently there were a lot of things she didn’t tell me.” Her mouth twisted and for one awful minute he thought she might cry. “I just wish she’d told me where she was going, if she did leave town like everyone seems to think. She sure didn’t take an awful lot with her.”

      Brock nodded. Only a few of Shayna’s clothes were missing. A weekend’s worth, both he and Cristine had estimated. Not enough to account for the amount of time she’d been away, but indicative of the fact that she hadn’t intended on returning to the apartment right away.

      Zoe reached over and covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “Don’t worry, Mama Bell. We’ll find her, I promise.”

      Her words had Brock clenching his jaw against the urge to tell her not to make promises she couldn’t keep. But Zoe had always been impulsive and passionate. She truly believed what she said, he could tell. And who was he to say she was wrong?

      Assuming Shayna wanted to be found.

      Zoe

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