Chapter Five
When are you coming back to LA?
Kat stared at the Facebook message in her inbox and sighed. She wished she had an answer to that particular question, but at the moment, she had no idea. Would she go back to LA at all? It would make sense. She had come to Heron’s Landing to care for her grandmother, but now that Lillian had passed away, she was just kind of hanging around, perpetually in limbo.
I’m not sure. But I’ll let you know, she wrote, hitting enter before she could rethink her response to her ex-boyfriend’s question. She and Marcus had dated for close to three years while she’d attended UCLA and then worked as a computer programmer. Their breakup hadn’t been messy or bitter; in fact, it had been a mutual decision. She was moving to Missouri, he wasn’t, neither wanted to do long distance. So they’d parted ways and that was that.
Kat sighed again. Was that her life, then? To be logical, practical, but without passion or any real emotion? Her list of boyfriends wasn’t extensive, sure, but none of them had made her feel anything beyond a low-level kind of love. The kind of love that only snagged at your heart; the kind of love that didn’t burn you if it ended. Instead, you were left empty, wondering if you’d been in love in the first place.
Kat shook herself. Now she was getting ridiculous over a one-off Facebook message. Marcus hadn’t been the love of her life. So what? Maybe she wasn’t cut out for such a thing. Maybe it was a myth.
Then again, thinking about Gavin Danvers, she had a feeling it wasn’t a myth. The way he’d kissed her had been nothing like any of the kisses she’d received from other men. His kisses had made her yearn. Not just for sex—but that was there, too—but to wrap herself in him. To meld herself to him and never let go.
It was both strange and terrifying. Getting off the couch, she went to the kitchen to make some tea, mostly for something to do. But even as the kettle boiled and she placed the teabag in her mug, she thought about that kiss. She thought about the look on Gavin’s face, and how he’d looked at her with desire and something like resignation. She had a distinct feeling that any kind of relationship with a man like him wouldn’t be uncomplicated or low-level. It would sear her to her very soul.
As the evening waned on, Kat found herself looking at the page where she still hosted her contentious video game. The comments rolled in, and for the most part, she avoided reading them now. She’d considered taking the game down, but the very stubborn part of her refused to give in. Why should she be scared of a bunch of Internet trolls who probably lived in their mothers’ basements and hated women simply for existing? She wasn’t going to apologize for posting a game making fun of men like that. At any rate, she was getting enough revenue in ad money that pulling the plug didn’t make sense. She’d collect her money from these guys’ tears and laugh all the way to the bank.
She was about to close her laptop for the night when an email popped into her inbox. Seeing the subject—READ IMMEDIATELY—she had a feeling it was spam. She was about to delete it, but curiosity got the better of her. It always did.
To Whom It May Concern:
Fuck you BITCH. I’ll find out where you live and then you’ll be sorry.
Kat stared at the email, breathing harder. She read the words over and over again and her heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy. Slapping her laptop shut, she fought tears. It was one thing to get insulting comments via email; it was another entirely to be receiving threats.
She crawled into bed, but not without getting a knife from the kitchen to hide underneath her pillow for the entirety of the night.
The weekend dawned bright and gorgeous, with autumn edging the leaves with oranges and yellows. After much deliberation, Kat decided to delete the game, but she had a feeling it was too late. She knew as well as anyone that nothing on the Internet could ever be completely deleted. Hoping that it would deter some of the lazier trolls, though, she heaved a sigh and deleted it, making certain to leave as little a trail as she could manage.
She refused to let that email ruin her weekend. She walked to Trudy’s, which was the one café in the tiny downtown of Heron’s Landing. Main Street was barely a street, but it hosted Heron’s Landing’s various shops: a general store with apartments above it; Trudy’s café; a hardware store; a craft shop that exploded with Christmas paraphernalia, usually by October 1. Today, there were quite a few tourists wandering the street. Heron’s Landing felt like it was stuck in time, and after touring the vineyard, many tourists came downtown to experience the town’s particular type of charm. Kat smiled as she watched an older couple trying to take a selfie in front of a huge elm tree. As she passed by, they waved at her, and she became their photographer for a few moments.
“Thank you, miss,” the older man said as she handed back his phone. “Still can’t figure out these new phones. Give me a rotary phone any day of the week, I say.”
His wife snorted. “You couldn’t dial my number right on any rotary phone, Ernest! Honestly, he’s been useless with technology since he was born.”
Ernest’s eyes twinkled as he looked at his wife. “And yet you still married me.”
Kat walked on, hands in her pockets. Seeing that couple reminded her that love could be stronger than what she’d seen personally. Her own parents had divorced when she was
