“Well,” I snapped, “if it isn’t the prodigal son.”
His smirk deepened. “Quite the pair, don’t you think?”
I noted the satisfaction on his face, the motive of his grip. “You did this on purpose,” I accused, and basked in his inability to deny it as he spun me around. Little mastermind.
“Now the whole town’s seen us together.” Our bodies separated with a turn, and we linked arms once again.
I knew he played a ridiculous little game, but as much as I fought the burn in my cheeks, my own lips curled. “Whatever are they going to say?”
“Whatever shall we do?” he asked.
The music began to drop and drift, a couple notes hung on the verge of strumming fingertips.
“The only thing left to do,” I said, twirling into his chest as his arms guided me back into a dip. He hovered above me, panting slightly between glances from my eyes to my lips, awaiting my solution. “We fight to the death.”
Laken nearly dropped me. He felt so familiar. His arms, his eyes; I could’ve stood there forever if I didn’t know better.Fuck. Pull yourself together, McCarthen.
So I did—physically pulled myself up from where he’d dipped me. Typically, I hated interruptions and speaking with people I went to school with, but with the way Laken breathed against me and couldn’t remove his eyes, I felt thankful Eliza Hamilton walked up.
“Laken,” she cheered. “Reece…” she mumbled.
Bitch.
Both of us took a step back as though pulled from some magic hex of a bullshit trance. Turning away from one another, I faced the light-brown-haired, freckle-faced wretchfrom my childhood. Eliza stood with her big brown eyes and heart-shaped face, practically gazing at Laken. At least my searing veins were quickly extinguished.
“I heard you’d returned,” she spoke tohim.
There was a reason for my discontent with Eliza. She’d always been like this, disrespectful. She wasn’t agirl’s girl. And I refused to tolerate it.
“As much as I’d love to stay and chat”—I faked a smile—“I’m not going to.” Giving nothing but a quick nod, I walked away and didn’t look back.
I left them behind me, the sun lowering as I halted at the sound of a young child’s cry. In the field, a little girl crouched with a bleeding knee and her concerned mother at her side. It wasn’t that I enjoyed profiting off people’s pain… but I did have healing cream to sell.
Of course, I healed the girl’s scrape first and only made the sale when her parents insisted on buying a jar. And because talk spreads fast, I sold two more before it was time to get the kids home. I knew selling three jars of cream, no matter how expensive they were, wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a start. A start of reinserting myself as the sanctuary’s owner as well.
What surprised me was how thankful they were the sanctuary was making healing cream again. Because my father had stopped long ago.
Scouring the festival for Mia and Micah, I forced my eyes elsewhere every time I caught a glimpse of Laken. Which was more often than I’d like, as if I couldn’t help but onlysee him. Micah I easily found throwing the ball around with his friends. And Mia, I followed the high-pitched sound of young teenagers laughing. One step after the other, I moved. I kept moving. I didn’t think about my ex. I definitely didn’t look for him or who he talked to.
Hate him, I reminded myself. I hated him. I hated the way I could feel the ghost of his hands around my waist. I could almost convince myself we fell together so smoothly because we belonged that way; however, I knew Laken talked with ease with everyone. And that made me hate him more.
Walking the kids home might’ve been the only thing that kept me together. I dropped them off, promised Ruth to be at her bakery when the week resumed, and sighed with relief at the thought of being done with the day, finally on the way home. Leaving the Stillers’, I hugged tight to the other side of the cobblestone road, hoping to avoid any other human interactions. And I nearly made it.
Until I heard him call my name. Stopping in my tracks, I looked up to the heavens, silently mouthing, “Fuck.” I loosened my fists.
“I should hate you for that,” he said breathlessly as he caught me.
Innocently, I batted my eyes. “What do you mean? She seemed so excited to see you.”
Laken’s own eyes narrowed on mine, but not so innocently, because he knew exactly what I played at.
He fell into step with me as we made for the house.
“I’m surprised you didn’t punch Eliza, you know, givenyour liking for it.” Laken walked with his hands in his pockets, his eyes set on the horizon without a worry in mind.
“I don’t like punching people,” I clarified. “I like seeing you in pain.”
A soft laugh rumbled in his throat. “Here I was thinking you just liked to see me. You always were violent.”
