It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, I’d recognize Luc Dubois’s lady-killer dimples and Superman hair anywhere. The same can be said for Cash Armstrong’s broad shoulders and loose-hipped swagger.
“Cher? Who are dey?” Jean-Pierre’s voice is laced with concern.
I know I’m as white as a sheet. I felt the blood drain from my face. And if I continue to suck in huge gulps of air, I’ll hyperventilate. The world is already buzzing, my vision going bright and crackling around the edges.
Bending at the waist, I plant my hands on my knees and force myself to breathe normally.
“What in da world?” Jean-Pierre comes over to solicitously rub my back.
Once I’m sure I’m not about to keel over, I stand. “The dark-haired one saved me,” I manage, although my throat feels like someone shoved a wad of cotton in there. “The blond one stole my heart.”
Jean-Pierre’s eyebrows reach for the sky. He knows what happened way back when. One night after a blind date from hell and one too many glasses of wine, I came home and spilled the whole sorry tale. Or…at least the relevant bits about my teenage pathos, melodrama, and love life. Theotherstuff? The stuff that cameafterCash left and Luc was forced to escort me to prom? I’ve never breathed a word aboutthatto anyone except to repeat the story Luc and I agreed on.
Although, the not talking about it hasn’t made the memory fade. It’s as sharp as ever. A razor-toothed monster that lurks in my nightmares.
Turning back to the railing, Jean-Pierre watches the ghosts of my past make their way up my street. I realize I’ve grabbed the heart-shaped locket that hangs around my neck. When I glance down, I see the infinity symbol tattooed on the inside of my wrist. Both are souvenirs from a time long gone. A time I thought I’d never get the chance to revisit.
That change in the air? Pretty sure it just blew my way like a High Plains twister.
“So,” Jean-Pierre murmurs, “after all dis time, your boys are back in town.”
