When Snow Falls (Whiskey Creek #2)(11)
Author: Brenda Novak

When they finally began to disperse, Cheyenne breathed a sigh of relief. Callie had to open her photography studio by ten. Baxter had a long drive to reach his office in San Francisco. Ted was behind on his deadline. They all had work to do. Since this was the last day The Gold Nugget would be open until after the first of the year—not to mention the last day it would operate under its current name—Chey was just as eager to start her day. She couldn’t expect her short-order cook to wrap up breakfast alone.

But just as she slid out of the booth, Noah clasped her arm. “What will you do while we’re gone?” he asked.

She could tell by his sympathetic expression that he felt bad she wasn’t able to join them, so she mustered yet another smile—and prayed it was more convincing than the ones that had come before. “The same. Taking care of my mother.”

But with the way things were going she’d probably be burying Anita instead. And to make her Christmas even merrier, she’d most likely have to drag her sister back to rehab.

* * *

It was pathetic to drive past Eve’s house so many times. Especially because she’d left her mother alone in order to do it. But Cheyenne couldn’t seem to stop herself. She had to know what time Eve got home, had to see if Joe kissed her at the door…or was invited inside.

Eve lived on her parents’ property, but she had her own small bungalow in back, which afforded her enough privacy to be able to entertain a lover. As long as Joe parked his car off the premises, her aging parents would never notice if their daughter had overnight company. When they weren’t traveling in the motor home they’d bought when their financial situation still looked good, they went to bed early and, for the most part, let Eve visit them at the main house instead of trudging back to her place.

The fact that Eve would, no doubt, provide a detailed recap of the evening added to the guilt that troubled Cheyenne. They shared everything. But Cheyenne wasn’t planning to ask about Joe. She hoped Eve would be so caught up in getting ready for the cruise that they wouldn’t have to talk about him. She couldn’t continue to pretend approval and support when each word Eve said cut like broken glass.

Besides, she didn’t want to see the man she loved through Eve’s eyes. She wanted to see him through her own. She’d memorized every encounter they’d ever had, every nuance of his expression, tone and body language. She was hoping that would help her determine whether or not he was excited about Eve or merely being polite. He was nice enough to accept a dinner invitation from just about any woman.

Cheyenne should know how kind he was. He’d always made her feel good, despite the unkempt way she’d looked when they first met or the number of guys in Whiskey Creek who wouldn’t date her in the early years. Although Chey had never slept with anyone—Joe was the only man she’d ever dreamed of touching in that way—Presley and Anita had gone to bed with any man who showed interest. The Christensens were barely one step above J. T. Amos’s clan, who were always fighting and going to jail or getting busted for dealing drugs. At least the people in Whiskey Creek had learned to differentiate between her and the rest of her family.

She’d been listening to the car radio to pass the time, but the noise made her nervous. Turning it off, she pulled down the tree-lined dirt road that led to the neighbors’ farm and stopped just beyond Eve’s house. From there she’d be able to tell when a car arrived. If she got out and stood hidden in the shrubs, she might even be able to ascertain what went on at the door.

Five minutes passed before she decided she couldn’t invade her friend’s privacy out of her own jealousy. Why would she betray the one person who’d brought some legitimacy to her life? Who’d convinced her that she could rise above her situation? Who’d made her whole in a way she’d never been whole before?

With a curse for her own weakness, she started up the Oldsmobile she’d bought from Henry Statham over in Jackson last Christmas and swung it around. But before she could drive out of the lane and onto the paved road, headlights appeared. A vehicle was cresting the hill.

Afraid it might be Joe and Eve and that they’d see her, Cheyenne backed up and switched off the car again. She had to remain hidden by the trees. The Olds was too distinctive; she couldn’t hope to drive by them and escape notice.

Sure enough, Chey recognized Joe’s white truck as it turned into Eve’s driveway, but she’d expected as much. Whiskey Creek was a small town of only two thousand. Not many people lived out here, in the country. With the older Harmons and their farmer neighbors asleep, it almost had to be Eve.

Curving her nails into her palms, Chey watched as the headlights went off. But when Joe and Eve climbed out, she made herself look away. What happened next was none of her business. She had no right to be sitting here, spying like some sort of obsessed weirdo. What kind of friend was she? Eve would make Joe a wonderful girlfriend, lover—even wife. He deserved the best, didn’t he?

She waited until they both went inside. Then, sick at heart because of what that might mean, she drove home. She needed some silence, some space.

Unfortunately, her mother called her the second she opened the door.

“Cheyenne? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” she called back, but hesitated in the small entry. She wasn’t sure she could make herself continue into the house. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see the reality of her mother’s condition, didn’t want to think about what was coming or when it might happen, didn’t want to take stock of the painkiller and know her sister had stolen more.

“I spilled my sippy cup,” Anita complained. “I need another bath.”

Chey gripped her purse tighter. “No problem. I’ll bring a wet washcloth.”

“That won’t be enough. It was juice. I’m sticky all over. And the bedding…it has to be changed.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, Cheyenne pressed her free hand to her face. Bathing Anita was so difficult. It took all her strength, despite her mother’s dramatic weight loss. And now there’d be two baths in one night?

She imagined Eve lying beneath Joe, imagined how he might be touching her, kissing her, and nearly crumpled to her knees. She’d fantasized about Joe ever since she’d met him, but much more since his divorce. It was her only guilty pleasure.

But now…she couldn’t even have that, not if he got together with Eve.

“Are you coming?”