“They don’t get stolen?”
Joshua laughs. “This is a small town. It’s not like D.C.”
I huff a dry sound. “You’ve got that right.”
The city has always been my sanctuary. Its pace. Its convenience. Its anonymity. There, I’m just another face. Invisible. Forgettable.
That’s not the case here. People know who I am. Theyseeme. They stop to talk to me. Are genuinely interested in how I’m liking my time here in town.
And it doesn’t feel as suffocating as I thought it would. The place has grown on me.
Or, more accurately, one woman in particular has grown on me.
“Did you watch the parade when you were little?” I ask.
“We did. I looked forward to it every year.” He peers into the distance, a nostalgic gleam crossing his expression. “Afterward, Mom would take me to see Santa at the hardware store, and I’d tell him what I wanted for Christmas. She always made sure I got it, too.” He beams, then his smile falters, shadows flickering across his features. “I’m sorry. I always seem to bring her up. Don’t I?”
“Joshua…” I slow my steps so he meets my eyes. “It’s okay. Talk about her whenever you want. I didn’t know her that well. Or at all, really. I was young and made more bad decisions thangood. But I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk about her around me.”
He gives me a smile that looks so much like my own it jars me. “Thanks.”
We wind through the crowd until he veers down a narrow side alley.
“Where are we going?” I ask, confused. “I thought we were watching the parade.”
“We are,” he says over his shoulder, his mouth curving into a sly grin. “From a much better spot.”
I follow him toward a door in the back of a brick building, where he inputs a code and leads me up several flights of stairs before emerging onto a rooftop. But it’s not a normal rooftop.
It’s strung with white lights, warm against the picture-perfect blue sky. Patio furniture and high-tops are scattered across the terrace, long tables withhors d’oeuvresplaced along the walls. A bar glows in the corner, golden light spilling over bottles of wine and beer. The air is alive with laughter, clinking glasses, and the crisp scent of spiced apple and pine.
“Where are we?” I ask as I take in my surroundings.
“The Wicked Hop,” Joshua answers. “You remember Dylan, who lives next door to you?”
I nod.
“One of her older brothers, Jude, owns it. Every year, he invites close friends and family to watch the parade from up here. Food, drinks, best view in town. I hope this is okay,” he adds quickly. “If you’d rather watch from down below, we can. I just thought?—”
“This is definitely better than being in the crowd,” I respond. “I don’t think I’d like the parade as much if I had to stand down there.”
“Me, neither.”
He takes me around, introducing me to faces and names that clearly mean something to him. Friends who’ve become family. People who anchor him here in a way I’ve never been anchored anywhere.
But all I can think of is Claire.
If she’ll be here, too.
After all, everyone Joshua has introduced me to has asked about her.
And her roommate, Dylan, is already here.
Maybe she’s working. If she planned on being here, wouldn’t she have come with Dylan? Wouldn’t Joshua have said something?
Or am I just overthinking it, as always?
I do my best to push down all thoughts of Claire as Joshua introduces me to Dylan’s older brother, Hayden, who seems to be about my age. But as I shake his hand, I feel that same prickle of awareness I do whenever Claire’s around.
