Page 58 of Kings of Sherwood

I stand up.

Maren’s head snaps toward us, eyes sharp now. Tuck goes quiet mid-laugh. Even the kid quits his fidgeting.

“You seriously gonna ask me that?” I say to him.

I step in close, close enough Zayn has to look up just a little. He doesn’t flinch. Or answer.

“You know where I come from?” I ask him.

He blinks, jaw tight. “No.”

“Louisiana. Grant Parish. Place called Colfax. Heard of it?”

His brow furrows. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “A race riot, or something?”

“Amassacre,” I correct. “Easter Sunday, 1873. Black men murdered for just trying to vote. Fuckin’ KKK burned the courthouse down with men still inside it and shot the ones who surrendered.”

Silence falls heavy across the deck.

“I grew up near that damn history marker. And my Mama would say, ‘Don’t you forget what they’ll do when they think you don’t belong. And don’t youevertreat people like they don’t belong.’” I take a step, get in his face a little. “And I don’t. ‘Cause I’ve seen what it leads to. So don’tcomeat me with that shit.”

I exhale through my nose. Zayn doesn’t say anything.

And no fucking wonder. I’m...

...acting like a goddamn lunatic.

I pull back. Run a hand through my hair. Close my eyes.

“Shit,” I mutter. I open my eyes again. Look around at everyone. At Zayn. Can I blame him, drawing that conclusion? A guy who looks like me being an asshole to a guy who looks like him?

“Touched a fucking nerve,” Will mutters.

No. Of course I can’t.

And I can’t blame him for what happened to Maren, either. Not if I really admit it.

“I’m...damn.” I shake my head again. “Sorry, man. That was...you’re good.” I dart a glance at Maren. “If she’s good, we’re good.”

Zayn lets out a long, slow exhale. “It’s cool. I get it. Thanks.”

Neither of us moves.

Fuck it, I think.

I stick out my hand. He shakes it.

“Truce.”

“Ça roule.” I nod, sit back down.

Things kick back into gear, more or less. I notice the kid staring all wide-eyed at Zayn, like he’s impressed or something, but the second I meet his gaze, he looks away fast.

Huh.

Zayn catches the look too but doesn’t say anything. Just grabs a beer from the cooler and moves off.

I lean back in the chair, beer resting on my thigh, and finally let myself relax.

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