Coming Home Again (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 1) by T.I. Lowe Read Free Book Online Page B

up
spending the night on the blame bathroom floor. What an idiot. The crick in my neck and my sore back rebels against
movement, but they eventually allow me to rise off the floor and go straight to
the shower. I release the towel that is haphazardly wrapped around me and step
into the hot spray, trying to wash off the restless night. I don’t ever sleep
well. Most nights, I end up roaming around the condo with a nagging
restlessness keeping me company. Last night was a bit rougher than my norm. Too
many memories chasing me around, and let’s not forget about the stupid alcohol
idea.
    After the
shower, I down two aspirins with an entire bottle of water. By the time I’m
dressed, the resolution to not go to Bay Creek is firmly in place. I am on the
verge of a complete meltdown and it’s just not worth it. I pack my bag with
determination and head back to Lucas and to my safe life—the only place I
should be.

 
    Okay. So not even
a half hour down the taunting road, I find myself making a U-turn and start
heading back south. Ugh. I have to do this. This unpleasant task has to be
followed to the very end. It’s time to face all the demons and just have it
out—no-holds-barred.
    Two more
long frustrating hours pass before my stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten in
well over twenty-four hours. I pull off the interstate and find a quaint
country diner. As I walk through the door, the aroma of savory eggs and sausage
frying sends my stomach into a mean growl. The smells remind me of a local
diner set right on the beach in Bay Creek. It is rightfully named the Beach
Shack because it resembles a dilapidated beach shack with well-worn clapboard
siding and a rusty tin roof. It serves the best biscuits and gravy I have ever
eaten. It’s tradition for locals and tourists alike to indulge on the greasy,
delicious fair before hitting the beach for the day.
    This diner
is pretty neat as well. It resembles an old farmhouse with blue gingham
curtains and tablecloths and roosters perched around the perimeter as though
they are keeping an eye on the place. The old wooden floors creak when I enter
as though to welcome me. The hostess, who is wearing a gingham apron and an
old-fashioned farm dress, greets me and escorts me to a table near the front. I
end up ordering biscuits and gravy to compare to my childhood memories. They
are okay, but not as rich and creamy as the one back home. Home ? Yep, I just slipped, didn’t I?
    I sit for a
while and overanalyze my slip-up. Boy oh boy. I can’t believe I called Bay
Creek home. Honest mistake, I suppose. Speaking of which, it’s time I stop
lollygagging and get on with it. Well… Soon. I’ll head out soon .
    While I try
talking myself into heading out, I end up ordering a fudge brownie, hoping it
will give me the boost I need to get back on the road. The decadent treat
reminds me of an amusing memory and I sit at that table and laugh loudly with
myself over it. That laugh has been the only thing to feel right in these last
few days.
    I did get a
bit of revenge on ole Jean over the ordeal with Julia. Jean’s only other
indulgence besides fine wine is fine gourmet treats. Well, let’s be more
honest—her whole life is an indulgence, but gourmet treats are close to the top
of the list. Of course, local gourmet isn’t good enough for the brat. She has
to have her decadent treats delivered all the way from New York. She had
discovered the most scrumptious cookies on one of her many vacations without us
and had set up a monthly delivery of the treats. Great, right? For Jean maybe,
because no one else was allowed to eat any. These little fudgy jewels are
double chocolate chip cookies with tiny chips of toffee and almonds nestled
throughout in rich chocolate goodness. They are made from the finest
ingredients, and this is evident in the price tag. I thought about ordering my
own box over the years, but the allure of them isn’t so great when not being
told it’s forbidden. Isn’t it funny