Luckily, the decision is made for me when Mr. Filbert leaves a message that there's been a cancellation tonight, since I told him I'd like to sneak in a few extra lessons whenever possible. There isn't time to go home first, but he said I can use one of his guitars. After sending Dash a text so he knows not to pick me up, I hurry straight to my lesson, glad that I brought a hoodie today, since it's turned windy today.
My practice has definitely been paying off, and songs are becoming more recognizable. Mr. Filbert beams as I play a slightly uneven rendition of an old campfire tune. "Very good. See? Practice brings familiarity, which brings comfort, which brings smoothness. You're doing great, Bridget. Keep at it. Next week I'll give you something new."
The breeze picks up as I walk down the driveway, and I pull my hoodie tightly around me. I could easily call Dash for a ride. Of course I don't want to bother him, but I could. That knowledge gives me a warm glow that spreads through my chest and protects me from the wind.
It feels like my heart has shifted into place for the first time, and I know I can't keep hiding my situation from Dash. Starting off a new relationship by keeping any secret is wrong. But Mom has made me promise over and over to never tell anyone about our past, and to keep a low profile.
That would be tricky if Dash and I really were a couple. I can't very well hide if I'm standing beside one of the most well-known people in town. There would be photos all over social media, and the name Bridget is too noticeable. Maybe I should have changed my name to Emma or Jennifer.
My warm glow fades, and it's not just from the chilly wind.
Hurting Dash is the last thing I'd ever want to do. Lying to myself and thinking that there is a way we can be together isn't fair to him. To either of us. When I freaked out just from seeing his uncle near the forest, he knew that something was seriously wrong.
How can that be explained?
Yeah, I don't know if people are looking for me, so I have to lie low at all times. No big deal, you understand. Just a bunch of criminals.
The truth hits me like a punch to the chest.
This is never going to work.
With another sick, hollow punch I realize that the faster I end it, the easier it will be on everyone. Especially him. So I have to break up with Dash. Now.
Absolute dread lands in the center of my chest like a stone. I have no idea how I will even do that. Partly because I honestlydon't want to, and partly because I've never really been in a relationship.
The thought of looking into those passionate light brown eyes and telling him that I can't be with him anymore… Tears well up just picturing it.
The cold wind isn't helping to manage my turbulent mood. Reaching a corner, I see an alley with tall walls on each side. Perfect for blocking the wind. Looking around, it's not too dirty, and it runs across the full block.
Walking quickly, I pause about halfway through, hearing muffled voices. There's a slight mechanical noise, like a hum, then it dies down, making the voices clearer. There is a single parking spot behind an office building, likely for deliveries. My gut instinct to flee loses the fight against my curiosity to see who is hiding in the shadows.
Peeking around the corner, I see a parked car with the windows rolling down. I stop short when I see two men in gray suits.
Every muscle in my body freezes.
Since I was young, Mom always warned me to look out for outsiders, especially middle-aged men in cheap gray suits. That's what my father's "associates" always wore when they were doing whatever "business dealings" had landed him in prison. Even in a small town like this, seeing someone in a cheap gray suit puts me on high alert. Dad might still be looking for us.
Shrinking back so that only one eye is peeking out, a breath of relief finally flows through me as I recognize the car as the one beside Dash's property last night. If they're Oakton politicians, they're definitely not the people I'm most afraid of.
When my eyes adjust to the light, I see Lloyd in the back seat. His annoying droning voice is recognizable from his visits to Acorns. The volume rises, echoing off the brick walls surrounding the car. Out of habit drilled into me by Mom, I grabmy phone, turning on a voice recorder as I hold it out toward them.
"Now is the time to move," Lloyd says. "My nephews are all picking up local tramps. First the weird punk, now the pudgy one. Most likely gold diggers."
My jaw clenches.
An older man with a tacky neon blue tie shakes his head. "We don't care about your family drama. Just tell us how to get our hands on some of that land."
A younger man with a weirdly-shaped goatee says, "The trick to shutting up the tree huggers is to throw them a bone when it's convenient. Sure, it's nice to have a little park here and there, so give them that. Then you can develop the rest of the raw land."
"It's an old growth forest," Blue Tie says. "There will be pushback."
"Not if eighty percent is considered preserved, and only twenty percent utilized," says Goatee. "Since the brothers' share of the forest is being logged, we can make them look like the bad guys, while Lloyd here creates a much-needed subdivision."
"They aren't really logging," Lloyd sneers. "They're being respectful of the land and all that bullshit, just taking down select trees by hand."
"Don't worry," Goatee chuckles. "They'll slip up somewhere along the way. Everyone always does. We'll just catch them doing something shameful. Or associating with someone that we can exploit."
A dark chill runs through me. If they ever found out about my father, they would know that I'm, well, exploitable.
