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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat. I could just see myself trying to lure this delicious smile from him in the future with other illicit ideas. Sawyer, you want to smoke a joint? Sawyer, let’s go tip some cows. Sawyer, let’s go see the neighbor’s cougars.

31

31

Sawyer was a terrible driver. We almost made it to Marjory’s unscathed, but while he was parking, he hit a cement cylinder holding a light post. First came the loud crunch of our headlight cracking, followed by plastic shards pinging like rain onto the pavement.

Hands in his lap in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead, he said, “I suck.”

“You’re right, you totally suck,” Emily said. “Your phone fell under the seat, Mom.”

“It’s fine, Emily. I’ll find it later,” I said, irritation edging my voice. She always had something to say. It was my fault though. This was my bad idea. I touched his shoulder. “You’re supposed to suck your first time. And, it’s a headlight. A cheap fix. Put the car in Park.”

He put it in Park. “Dad’s gonna be pissed.”

“First of all, Dad has several busted headlights under his belt. Second, when is Dad ever pissed? Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. Seriously. Let’s get donuts.”

“Not hungry. I’ll wait here,” he said, his tone sharp, his fingers already tapping away at his phone.

I considered pushing, but bit my lip. It was probably better that he wasn’t coming in since I wasn’t here only for donuts. “OK, we’ll bring you a donut. Let’s go, Em.”

Marjory’s Greasy Spoon and Donuts stood between Auntie’s Antiques and the Touchdown Bar on the corner.

Dawn had worked here.

I found myself wondering, how had Dawn Young moved through this town, through this building where she’d worked? Had this high school girl walked into work with a swing in her hip, or had she walked in as if her pockets were filled with rocks? Had she been the kind of young woman who didn’t mind taking up space and some of your time, or had she tried to make herself as small and invisible as possible? Had my mom dropped off Dawn Young in this parking lot, and someone from the bar on the corner talked her into their car? That bar probably hadn’t existed back then. What businesses had touched walls with Marjory’s three decades ago?

The bell jingled as I opened the door, giving me a shiver of anticipation. I expected a cool wave of air conditioning, but it was hotter inside than outside. Nice. I never liked shivering in air conditioning in the summer anyway.