“Have you seen your mom since you’ve been back?” I cautiously asked.
She shook her, head and I could tell that she felt terrible about the direction our conversation had gone in. But she had no way of knowing. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and logged into my Instagram account.
“Did you ever follow me on Instagram in high school?” I asked.
“No, but don’t take it personally. I didn’t really care for social media or have many friends. I was an outcast at Beverly Hills High. But I had heard that you were the model kid with the thing for goofy socks.”
“Yes! And it’s okay you didn’t follow me; I’ll catch you up to speed,” I said with a smile and laughed that she knew me as the ‘model kid with the thing for goofy socks.’
I scrolled through my pictures until I reached my ninth-grade year. Setting the phone on the center of the table, I scooted closer to the table and began showing her pictures of my socks. I chatted about the different kinds of socks as we scrolled through the pictures. She commented on some of the team photos of me with the track and soccer teams.
While I kept scrolling, James rubbed his hand over my lower back. I felt like he was proud of me for talking so much, and I knew that he understood that when Salem cried, it wasn’t my fault. I had hoped, at least.
We laughed about the high school mascot that would go to spirit assemblies while I kept scrolling. When I reached the top, my stomach sank when I saw Eli. Salem suddenly covered her mouth and leaned back in her seat.
“Salem? What’s wrong?” Garrett asked.
She stared at my phone, and then she looked up at me.
“How do you know him?” she asked.
I frowned and looked down at the screen to see if there was someone else in the small thumbnails on the twelve pictures on the screen. There were only a few pics of Eli and me.
“E—” I couldn’t even finish saying his name.
The strangest sensation of heat and cold washed over me all at once. My voice was gone, and my throat was dry. James’ hand stopped moving on my back, and Garrett was trying to get Salem to talk.
“Salem, do you know that man? Garrett asked.
She wouldn’t reply to his questions, but she looked at me like I was the worst person on the planet. Or at least, that was how it felt. I needed to leave before things got worse.
“James,” I murmured his name and looked at him. I thought he saw the desperation in my eyes as the chills ran up and down my spine while beads of sweat formed on my forehead.
“Garrett, I think we had a productive lunch. I need to get Brandon home.”
“Very productive lunch,” Garrett agreed.
Great. Wonderful. So glad they got whatever the fuck they wanted out of this.
James flagged down the server and asked for the bill, and then he and Garrett both tried to pay for it. I’d fucking pay, just let me out of this goddamn booth.
“How do you know him?” Salem asked me.
She could ask it all fucking day long if she wanted to, but I was done talking. I reached for my chest to hopefully settle the pounding.
“Hmm?” she prompted again.
Keep asking, girl. You’re done getting anything from me.
“Were you a friend of his?” she asked snidely.
“Salem, sweetheart. You’re pushing. Relax and respect him. He went through what you did and is recovering too.”
I wasn’t recovering. I didn’t need to recover.
“Garrett, he knows about the man who sold me to Sebastian.”
Fuck! I was going to be sick. I reached for James and clutched his forearm.
