I shift to move around them, but a hand stretches out and grabs my wrist, above the edge of my sweater. May’s nails are ragged as they dig in, and I suck in a breath at the small pain. “I—,”
I don’t get a chance to finish.
The wet spatters across my face as I stumble back, only May’s grip on my wrist stopping me from falling.
There’s an audible gasp from Elsie, and then I’m pulling my wrist away, cradling it as May wipes her mouth. “I know what you did to my boy.Murderer.”
The hissed word may as well be a scream. My back slams into the wall of the grocery store, my head hitting the brickwork with a thud as shock steals my breath.
Shespatin my face.
The back of my eyes begins to burn. Elsie is wrapping her arm around May’s shoulders, cooing at her and glaring at me as she begins to lead her away, back up the street. Brett’s motherglances back at me once more, the cloud replaced with anger that drains even as I watch. She sags against Elsie as the woman carefully helps her.
No. Not the May Rivers I remember.
It takes me a minute to push myself upright. To tug down my sleeve, and wipe at my face. But it feels like a brand, her anger. As if everyone else will be able to see it, spattered across my cheek.
I don’t want to be here any more than they want me here.
The small bell above the grocery shop door tinkles as I push it open. The store is well-stocked, the closest superstore in the next town over along with Dr. Abram’s clinic. Enough for me to pick up some essentials and some fresh stuff to get through the next few days.
Behind the counter, Henry, the beta that runs this place with his wife, stiffens. I pause, waiting for the refusal. But he doesn’t say anything. Just turns away as I grab a basket and head down the aisle.
I’m alone, and I wait until I’m out of Henry’s sight to stop. My bandages are itching again, the skin beneath burning with a familiar pain, and I suck in a breath as I rotate my shoulder to try and stave it off. My hands are shaking.
No. My whole body is shaking, trembling, my heart pounding, and I lean forward, bracing a hand against my chest.
It’s nothing I haven’t had before. But not recently. And not fromher.
I haven’t seen Brett’s mother. Not once. Maybe, I’d hoped—
But no. May hates me as much as everyone else does.
Of course she does. More.
Murderer.
I mentally curse Rick for his fucking uselessness as I heft the basket again. If he wasn’t such a dick, I could keep hiding. Tryto maintain whatever peace I can for as long as I can, until the doors of the Center close behind me for the last time.
But instead, I feel as if I’m on display for public consumption. I take a deep breath.
You can do this, I tell myself.This is nothing in comparison to everything else.
So why does it hurt so much?
Oscar
Slowing to a walk as I get to the high street, I tug out one headphone and check the timer on my watch.
Two hours. And yet it’s notenough. Not enough to calm the rush of thoughts inside my head, each of them battling for dominance until I can’t think clearly.
It feels as though I haven’t had a single clear thought since Brett died. Glancing up, I realize I’ve stopped next to the memorial, and my muscles stiffen again.
I fucking hate this thing. Charles insisted on it, Theo and Nia’s reluctance ignored in favor of a lavish, expensive statue in the middle of our town barely two months after his death, as if any of us could fuckingforget.
But nobody would say no to Charles. Not when his money funds half the employment in Widow’s Peak. There aren’t that many opportunities up here, but the construction work happening barely half a mile away keeps many of the men in jobs.
So the statue went up. Everyone in town attended the ceremony, politely ignoring May’s wailing over the sound ofCharles talking about everything Brett could have done if his life wasn’t cut so tragically short.
