Page 76 of Fighting

Traitorously, my mind runs through memory after memory of the last few weeks. Laughing. Touching. Playing. I had fun.

Damn it, I don’t want Mom to be correct. I want to scream. I want to run. I want him to hold me.

Before I can make up my mind, a mewing noise and a streak of blue darts by.

Startled, I bring a hand to my chest. “What the fuck?”

Turning so I’m safely tucked between him and the wall, he says, “Wait here. Let me get the little dude back to his home.”

It’s ridiculous, how much I like when he gets overprotective. The intruder is a damn bird, yet he acts as though he’s shielding me from a dragon. Heat pools in my belly, adding to my mixedemotions. Looks like horny Nessa has entered the chat. Great, just great.

I meander out of the maze, finding Millie with a large coffee, watching as Mateo reaches the kiddie section. From here, we can see his head bobbing over the wall of hay. He zig-zags all over, losing sight of the bird at different turns.

Mid-giggle fit, I point at the peacock flapping over the top of the hay. “Town tradition. Peacocks escaping from the pen at the most inconvenient times. What are you doing out so early?”

“I could hear the commotion from my apartment,” she says and points to the window over her storefront.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry about that,” I shrug sheepishly.

The bird perches on the top of the hay-bale wall, then runs from there. Mateo continues the chase, and a moment later, the bird hops down into the grass beyond the maze. He’s followed by my too-good-looking man, who rushes the wall and bursts through it like he’s the damn Kool-Aid Man. Bales topple over, thudding to the ground and drawing more attention from people wandering about.

Millie and I clap and cheer and whistle for him, and he takes a bow.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jim appears, face red, stomping over from his vet office with a tech on his heels. “You’re destroying the maze the folks of this town set up for the festival and being far too loud this early. This is ridiculous. And what the hell are you doing letting the birds out?”

He’s having a meltdown of epic proportions. His beard has grown out significantly since the last time I saw him. The dark circles and bags under his eyes are so large, TSA would require them to be checked. There’s a sour tinge of man-sweat in the air around him, too. He appears completely strung out.

Does he know that his plan isn’t going to work? Is that why he’s so out of sorts? Or is this something else? Fuck, I don’teven like this man, yet I can’t help but pity him, maybe even feel drawn to help.

Behind him, the tech has successfully lured the peacock back to his pen. Once the door is secure, she retreats into the office.

Jim snarls, “I’m going back to fucking sleep. This chaotic town would fall apart without me. I am going to win, and Peacock Springs will become a highly sought-after home for the wealthy. You’ll see.”

“Who. Was. That?” Millie asks, wide-eyed.

“That,” Mateo says, “was our esteemed mayor. The douche canoe James Kelly Junior, himself.”

Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I roll my eyes. “Sorry for the wake up, Millie. Mateo,” I turn to face him, looking at the mess before us, “let’s get a move on with the hay so we can change before volunteers arrive.”

Now that I’ve mentally prepared the day’s to-do list, my shoulders relax. Having tasks to focus on, then checking them off, is how I am going to survive this day.

thirty-three

Nessa

The world takeson a peachy glow as the sun dips lower in the sky and the event wraps up. I meander the aisles, relishing the scents of hay and popcorn in the air. Between the hay and sunshine, the morning’s mud is now caked earth.

Families linger at the tall wooden photobooths, taking pictures of their children’s faces centered in oversized painted sunflowers. A few feet from there, Shua is inside a pen with a litter of golden retriever puppies.

I step inside and sit next to him, bumping his shoulder. “How’s your volunteer experience, mister?”

The puppies climb all over him, licking and nipping, making us laugh. He passes one of the dogs to me, and I cuddle and coo as I stroke the golden fur.

“Amazing. Today wasa-may-zing. These are the last puppies available.” He puffs out his chest, making direct eye contact, looking so much wiser than his sixteen years. “I made a decision too.” He peers around, then ducks his head, and in a low voice says, “I’m going to become a vet.”

Mirroring his tone, I ask, “Why are we whispering?”

“Because I’m going to be way better than Dr. Kelly,” he says.

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