Rayston Point Road || Editing

Chapter One

"Leighton, for the millionth time, I've driven up and down Rayston Point, and I haven't seen a single street even remotely close to Magnolia Lane!" I dropped my head back against the headrest in exasperation and ran my free hand back through my long, fringe bangs that hung almost to my eyes, which had started to stick to the edges of my forehead as the southern heat raged through the car, almost as old as I was and lacking in a functioning air conditioning. The air pulsing through the fan vents was weak and far from the cold I desired, and since I had pulled over on the main road, the absence of wind through the windows was unbearable, almost as miserable as the static-filled sound coming through my cellphone.

"Hold on, hold on," Leighton was saying, clearly talking through the speaker with the distant volume of her voice, made even less audible under the sound of her twins, my nephews, wailing in the background. "The mayor insisted on changing all the damn street names, the whole town is named after a freaking flower or tree or I don't even know what... and I can't for the life of me remember..." Her voice trailed off for a moment as something clattered in the background and the sound of one of the twins' screaming increased, and the sound of Leighton sighing was just barely audible over it. "Loren, hold on a minute, baby, I gotta call you back."

Before I could protest, Leighton had hung up, leaving me with a stark silence on the other end. Sighing heavily, I closed my eyes again as I piled my hair up at the top of my head with one hand and leaned back into the seat, reaching forward blindly with my other hand to adjust the vent by the steering wheel so the recycled air was blowing directly onto my face, although it still provided minimal relief.

It was past midday, but the sun still hovered high over my front window. I had been driving since long before sunrise to make it to my sisters' house, my home for the summer while I tried to escape the mess I had created at home, from my mothers' second round of mid-divorce tyranny, blamed exclusively on me this time, the remodeling of our vacation home that I had been banned from once my mother's soon-to-be ex-husband, Carl, served her with divorce papers, the not-so-golden boy who had all but blacklisted me from high society, to the letter I had written that was returned with a dismissive, two-line email. Leighton's house was the next best option- settled in a beautiful, yet small town, compared to the bustling city I was used to, and still located in a beachfront town. Even better, it was far enough for me to escape my mother's wrath.

The longer I drove, however, and the further south I traveled, the more unbearable the trip had become. I had already shed the sweatshirt I threw on over one of my ex's old rock t-shirts, the city air significantly cooler from when the sun was still hours from rising to now, in the mid-afternoon, Georgia sun, but my legs were still sticking to the worn leather seat, my light brown hair damp against my neck. My mother had called me five times, and texted me twice as many, although I had ignored all of her seething voicemails and novel-length text messages.

Not only had the early morning alarm, the heat and my mother's persistence left me exhausted and annoyed, but my car had barely made the trip, requiring an extra amount of caution and coaxing to turn back on after I stopped for gas the second time a couple hours ago, and I wasn't sure how much longer it would last idling on the side of the road.

Picking up my head the peer over my sunglasses at my surroundings, the baseball field I had parked next to outside the passenger side window, a river running parallel to the street to my left, my eyes finally landed on a sign for a coffee shop on the other side of the road, an easy walk from my torturous car. Even more promising, judging by the door I watched swing open and shut again as people entered, the place was air conditioned. It was an infinitely much more promising and comfortable place to wait for my sister to call me back, which I knew would take longer than just a minute, judging by the epic meltdown the boys were having in the background of our phone call.