Page 7 of Burning Ember
She points to my right hand.
“Oh, right,” I say.
After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, she motions toward my hand again. “Cute. For your daughter?”
For some reason I can’t explain, I hide the necklace behind me. “No. I-It’s for me.”
Her smile fades a bit as if she can sense the lie. She adjusts her purse over her shoulder and her gaze roams over me. Our eyes meet again, as she asks, “Are you okay?”
This time I want to tell her the truth. But I don’t. I nod and say, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then realizing I’m still standing in her way, I sidestep. “Sorry . . . I’ll just—”
She waves me off. “No worries.”
She steps up and scans the condoms. Like a homing beacon, my gaze zeroes in on the boxes her hand hovers over, and then nearly pop out of their sockets as she drops not one or two, but five large boxes of condoms into her basket.
Different kinds and sizes.
My throat thickens up as if filled with cotton.
Seeing my face she explains, “Um . . . they’re not all for me. My uh . . . friends wanted me to grab them some too.”
“Oh. Right.” But even I can hear the doubt in my voice.
After a long pause during which she studies me, she hikes her thumb over her shoulder. “Well, I guess I better get going.”
“Sure, me too.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I nod.
Then I just stand there and watch her leave. At the end of the aisle, she turns back, graces me again with her smile, and gives a somewhat hesitant wave.
After she’s gone, I sigh, and trudge off in the opposite direction.
For a moment, I’m caught up in the ‘what if’s’. What if my mother hadn’t left? What if Sundown had been able to support Will by herself? What if I’d finished school? What if I hadn’t been so desperate for help? Would I have fallen for Warner? Or was this always my path?
I don’t regret Will for a second, I’m happy to be a part of her life. I take pride in the fact I helped raise her. Supported her. Hell for a long while there, I’d been acting as her mother. But I still wonder if things could’ve been different? Did I make a wrong decision somewhere?
I hear static first, a split second before I run smack dab into a beefy chest. My eyes travel up over a black uniform, a fit torso and I quickly survey the badges and the patches on his arm.
Fear rushes through me like a freight train.
A cop. A city cop. But a cop nonetheless.
For a few seconds I’m paralyzed.
“Whoa, pretty thing. Look where you’re going. You could’ve hurt somebody.” I meet his eyes briefly, which are focused on my face. The side of his mouth is kicked up in a polite smile.
His nametag reads, “Officer Davis.” He has mouse brown hair cut in a flat top, and his ears stick out a bit. He looks like a drill sergeant. He’s not handsome per se, but not unpleasant looking either. His uniform is impeccably ironed. I’m close enough that I can smell the starch on his shirt.
Or at least I am until he bends down and reaches out. He stands and holds out a box of condoms to me. It’s not until then that I realize I dropped them.
“Uh . . . thanks.” I quickly grab the box and hide it behind my back. I attempt to scurry past him, but he catches my arm at my elbow and stops me.
A spike of fear runs my body.No. Please no.
My eyes slide over his utility belt and land on his handcuffs. Memories like on a film reel flash through my mind. It took hours to get out of the last set of cuffs that were around my wrists. I doubt I can do that again.
