It’s nowhere to be seen.
I fill my lungs to capacity, then exhale slowly.
I still have twenty minutes of my break left to burn, so I take my place in line at the snack hut, then order a sweet tea and a hot dog. I’ve pocketed my change and am drizzling mustard over my lunch when a low voice says my name.
I whirl around, my hot dog falling from my hand and somersaulting to the pavement. Mustard splatters across my Vans.
Damon is standing in front of me.
“Whoops,” he says.
I stoop down, dizzy,sick, and pick up the mess. I toss it into a nearby trash bin, then retrieve my sweet tea from the counter, careful not to spill because we don’t do lids or straws at the park. Feigning indifference, I meet Damon’s gaze and say, “Excuse me.”
He doesn’t move.
His brother sits on a bench across the path, apparently bored. There’s a snack hut bag and a pair of drinks beside him. Damon must’ve caught sight of me when I got in line and told Cole to stay with their food.
I try to step around him. He shuffles to the right, blocking my escape without drawing the attention of the dozens of people milling around.
There’s a nasty gleam in his eye.
His father relocated the boys to Sugar Bay from Crestview, a small town near the Alabama border. I’ve never met the man, but I’ve heard he’s scary. According to Gabi, Damon’s parents’ marriage was tumultuous. A year before the move, there was a physical altercation that left his mom hospitalized but unwilling to press charges against his dad. Instead, she cut ties and moved to Charlotte. I’d never judge a woman for seeking safety, but it’s hard to make sense of a mother who flees a dangerous situation and leaves her children behind.
I used to feel bad for Damon.
I don’t anymore.
“Where are you running off to?” he asks.
“I need to get to my post.” I gesture to my T-shirt. “I’m at work.”
“You can spare a minute. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I wonder why,” I say caustically.
He drops the pleasant veneer, sliding a step closer. The hairs on my arms prickle as I try to convince myself that he won’t touch me in front of witnesses.
“Talk to Gabi lately?” he asks.
“You know I haven’t.”
“She said she ran into you at Publix. She said you told her I was a liar.”
Did he track me down to confront me about this? I wouldn’t put it past him.
I clutch my sweet tea with both hands to keep from slapping the shit out of him.
His eyes roam across my face, from the beads of sweat collecting on my forehead to my bottom lip, snagged between my teeth. His smile spreads. “I didn’t lie, Piper. I didn’t have to. Gabi saw what she saw. She drew the most logical conclusion. All I had to do was agree with her.”
“You’re such an asshole.” I hurl the accusation hard; it rings in my ears. The guests in listening range turn to stare. So do Travis and Adam, the guys working in the snack hut. Adam looks peeved by my unprofessionalism—as ifI’mthe problem—but Travis seems concerned.
I want to sink into the sidewalk.
I give Travis a nod to let him know I’m fine, though I’m very muchnotfine. Damon tips his chin at the guys like,It’s cool; we’re pals,then reaches out. I don’t know if he aims to pat my arm or squeeze my shoulder or ram his fist into my biceps like he did to his brother, but I can’t stomach the thought of him touching me, even for decorum’s sake.
I spring back.
I let my cup fly.
