I mumble something noncommittal, picking up a candle to avoid her gaze. The label readsSpring Shower, but all I smell is smoke and suspicion.
We move on but the stares don’t stop.
I catch snippets as we pass?—
That’s her?
Didn’t think John would actually take her in.
Looks just like her mama—poor thing.
By the time we reach the line for the coffee Sutton has been craving, my pulse is thrumming in my ears. Sutton’s chatting about the band lineup, but the words barely register. All I can think about is how fast I can get back to the truck without making it obvious I am running.
That’s when I hear it.
A man’s voice, low and rough. “Didn’t think I’d ever see the day they let you walk the streets again, Sadie. Not after what you did to good ole’ John.”
I freeze.
He’s older, weathered by sun and time, his hat pulled low over his eyes. He’s the type of man you see leaning against fences in old Westerns. Only this one is looking right at me.
“Excuse me?” I manage.
His eyes narrow, taking me in like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. “Don’t you pull that shit with me, Sadie. You don’t belong here.” He spits on the ground like I am some kind of curse he is warding off. “Better watch out if they see you. End up like that friend of yours.”
My throat tightens. “I’m not Sadie,” I tell him hoarsely.
He steps closer, voice dropping to a rasp that curls like smoke. “Always were a bullshit liar.”
“Listen—” I don’t get the rest out. A hand clamps around my arm, pulling me backward.
John.
His expression is carved from stone, his jaw locked so tight I can hear the grind of his teeth.
“Merrick,” he greets the old man. “See they let you out of the nursing home again.”
The man tips his hand, unbothered. “Just giving ole’ Sadie here the warning that you best not find her out an about. Too late now, I guess.”
“This isn’t Sadie, Merrick,” John informs him flatly. “This is Peyton. Our daughter.”
Merrick snorts derisively, one side of his mouth pulling up in a nasty sneer. “Should get rid of her like you got rid of her mama.”
John steps forward once. Just once. “That’s enough, old man.” His one step is enough to make the man take pull back. The air between them is charged, electric, like before lightning strikes. With one last sneer, Merrick spits on the ground at John’s feet before turning and stomping away.
Sutton finally catches up; concern etched across her face. “John? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he tells her sharply. Then to me: “We’re leaving.”
I plant my feet. “No. What is he talking about? What did my mother do?”
“Drop it.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
There is no anger in his eyes, but something else too. Shame.
That scares me more than the stranger’s words.
He doesn’t give me the chance to pursue it further before he starts walking back toward the truck in tense silence. I follow behind him with Sutton at my side, the festival noise dimmingbehind us. My hands shake as I shove them into my pockets. Every whisper, every stare, every half-truth about my mother crashes into like a wave.
