The Road to Rose Bend by Naima Simone (best book club books of all time txt) 📕

“Shut up.”

The new voice, sharp and furious, had Jenna spinning around and Sydney’s gaze landing on Eva Wright. The older woman stood in the doorway of city hall, her small frame stiff with the anger that lined her face and crackled in her voice. She stepped forward, the door slamming shut behind her, and advanced on Jenna. Though she had at least five inches on the older woman, Jenna shrank back, alarm flashing across her face before she assembled her expression into a polite mask that didn’t fool anyone. Least of all Eva, who only glared harder.

“You’re a nasty piece of work, you know that, Jenna Landon?” Eva snapped.

“Ms. Eva, I don’t know what you mean...”

Eva snorted. “Don’t even try it. I overheard enough of the poison you were spewing that this,” she circled a finger in front of Jenna’s face, “won’t cut it with me. I would say you ought to be ashamed of yourself, but we both know that would be a waste of breath.”

“But Ms. Eva,” Jenna said, trying to placate the woman again. “I was just being honest with Sydney...”

If possible, Eva’s glare burned hotter, and she nearly vibrated with anger. “It kills me when people try to wrap up their cruelty in that big bow of ‘just being honest.’ What would you know about honesty? Truth is given in love not spite. Something you know nothing about. You were intentionally trying to hurt this girl, and for what? To make your own petty, small existence better? Take your nice/nasty self out of here before I lose every bit of the Christianity I’m holding on to by the chin hairs.”

Jenna’s shoulders snapped back, her chin following suit. “You can’t talk to me like that,” she snarled. And if agony wasn’t still throbbing inside her like a fresh wound, Sydney would’ve rolled her eyes. Again.

“I just did.” Eva harrumphed. Holding a hand up between them, she flicked her fingers. “Now get out of here. Run home to tell your daddy what I just said. And make sure you add that maybe if he’d put a paddle to your ass you might not be the spoiled brat you are today.”

Maybe it was respect for her elders that bridled Jenna’s tongue. Or maybe it was a very real fear of this intimidating woman. Either way, Jenna scowled, then charged down the city hall steps, probably to do just as Eva predicted—running home to tattle to Daddy.

God, later, when it didn’t hurt to breathe, Sydney would look back on this and fall out laughing. Right after she traded high fives with Eva Wright.

“Sydney. Honey,” Eva murmured, moving forward and clasping Sydney’s elbow. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Sydney joked. But the hoarse tone and her inability to force a smile caused the teasing to fall flat. “She was telling the truth, wasn’t she?” she asked Eva.

Before the other woman even answered, her sad gaze confessed, telling Sydney everything she needed to know. “Honey, you should be having this conversation with Cole, not me. And definitely not with Jenna Landon. Let me take you to him,” she gently offered.

“No,” Sydney barked. Then, immediately regretful, she softened her voice. “I’m sorry, Ms. Eva. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. But no. That’s okay. I can find him on my own. I... I’m going now.”

“Sydney, please,” Eva insisted. “You shouldn’t be driving in—”

“I’m fine. Really,” Sydney interrupted. Again, not intending to disrespect the older woman, but she desperately needed to leave. To get away before she crumbled right here on the city hall steps.

“Okay,” Eva conceded, worry still heavy in her kind brown eyes. “But promise me you’ll talk to Cole. Don’t let Jenna poison what you two have.”

What they had? What did she and Cole have? At best, a mutually beneficial arrangement. At worst... At worst a fake friendship based on secrets, half-truths and pity.

No, Jenna couldn’t poison something they’d never possessed to begin with.

But instead of explaining all this to Eva, Sydney nodded, rummaging for a reassuring smile. And failing.

“I promise.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

THIRTY MINUTES AFTER Cole received the frantic call from Eva Wright, relaying what she’d witnessed between Jenna Landon and Sydney, he pulled up outside the home he’d spent five wonderful years in with Tonia. His heart pounded, momentarily deafening him, as he opened his car door and stepped out. All the moisture fled from his mouth, and he stopped in front of the hood, for a moment, his feet frozen to the street.

He hadn’t been to this house since after the funeral two years ago. Hadn’t been able to cross the threshold of the home where he’d planned a future with such hope and joy. His future and his family had both been snatched away from him, and while this house stood as a cruel reminder of all that he’d lost, he hadn’t been able to sell it. It was theirs—his and Tonia’s. To get rid of it—to allow another happy family to live in it when they couldn’t—felt like a betrayal. So, he’d closed it up. Except for the cleaning woman he’d hired to go through it once a month, no one entered his home.

And now the front door was wide-open. From his position on the street, he could just glimpse the mantel in the entryway with a vase of long-dead flowers.

Grief, pain and anger, welled up inside of him—so much he damn near shook with the overwhelming cascade of emotion. No one should be there. No one. Not even him.

His fury propelled him up the walk and stairs to the porch. And finally, into the house.

Memories plowed into him, and he shot out a hand, flattening it against the entryway wall to steady himself. Dragging in several deep breaths, he tried to wade through the images of him and Tonia here in this home—sharing breakfast, watching television, hosting family dinners, laughing together, preparing the nursery—and shoved off the wall. He shifted forward,