Page 30 of Texas
“Your kind. What do they call it? Dykes on bikes?” he spits. “I call it perverts. Sinners pretending to be saviors. You think you’re protecting women? You’re destroying families.”
I take a step forward. Just one, but it’s enough to make him flinch. “Say that again,” I murmur.
He puffs up, emboldened by the crowd at his back. “You don’t belong here. You and that homewrecking bitch inside—”
That’s when I see them. Two sheriff’s deputies across the street, leaning against their cruiser, arms crossed, and watching. Waiting. They’re not here to protect the clinic. They’re here to see if I give them an excuse to bust me, to put me in their little jail and throw away the key. I breathe deeply but I don’t move.
“Not gonna swing?” Tyler taunts. “Afraid of what happens when someone swings back?”
I smile but it’s not friendly. “You’re not worth the bruises.” He opens his mouth again, but then the clinic door opens, and Kristin steps out. She’s in scrubs, her hair pulled back, eyes sharp and steady. She walks straight to my side, not touching me, but close enough to send a message.
Her voice is calm. “This clinic provides basic healthcare to women who need it. Pap smears. Prenatal care. STI testing. Birth control. Cancer screenings. We don’t perform abortions here—”
“Yet!” someone shouts.
“But we do give women choices,” she continues, louder now. “And that seems to be what you’re really afraid of.”
There’s a murmur through the crowd. One of the older women clutches her bible tighter and shouts, “Isaiah 5:20 — Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil.”
Kristin doesn’t even blink. “Thank you for the reminder,” she says. “Because I’ve seen the evil. It’s in the way women are silenced. The way they are controlled, even hurt, and then made to feel like it’s their fault.”
The crowd shifts. Some look uncomfortable. Some still look angry. Tyler’s face is red now, but he’s not talking. Not with Kristin standing there like she owns the fucking ground she walks on. Suddenly, a silver Mercedes pulls up to the curb in front of the clinic, making all of us step back, and sure as hell, Will Cleveland steps out. He’s wearing aviators with tailored slacks, and a white button-down rolled to the elbows. He walks with that easy, polished confidence that makes people mistake him for decent. He doesn’t look at me.
Instead, he walks straight up and puts a hand on Kristin’s back. Slides it around her shoulder until his arm is draped across her like a leash. “Folks,” he says, voice warm and oily. “Let’s remember to keep this civil. My wife is only trying to help.”
Kristin goes still under his touch. I see it. The way her eyes go flat. The way her spine locks and I hate Will Cleveland like I never thought I could. If he senses it, he is good at hiding.
“She’s a good woman,” he continues to the crowd. “She’s always cared deeply about this town. About its people. Let’s not turn this into something it’s not.”
And just like that, the crowd starts to back off. There are a few murmurs, and a few glances. One by one, they drift away. Some are still holding their signs. Some tuck them under their arms, like maybe they’ll try again another day.
Will turns toward me now. His smile is sharp. “I’m surprised to see you here.” I say nothing. “Seems you’ve made quite the impression. On my wife. On this town.”
I tilt my head. “You always show up late to a problem, or is that just for effect?”
He chuckles. “Cute. But I’m going to keep this simple.” He steps in close. Too close. His voice drops low, just for me. “You need to leave. Now. Pack up your little saddlebags, hop on your bike, and ride off into whatever sunset you crawled out of.”
I don’t blink. “Or what?”
“Or this gets worse,” he says with a smile. “For her. For you. For everyone.” Then louder, for the deputies still watching, he says, “Appreciate your help, officers. Everything’s under control.” Turning back to Kristin, still trying to play the part, he leans into her. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside—”
She shrugs him off. “I’m not your sweetheart,” she snaps. “You don’t get to tell people what to do. Not anymore.” Will’s smile doesn’t falter, but I see it. The crack in the mask as Kristin steps closer to me. “Reggie is my friend. And she can stay as long as she wants.”
Will looks between us. “You think this town’s going to support an adulterous lesbian running a women’s clinic?” he hisses just loud enough only we can hear him. “You think they’ll forgive that? You’re not a hero, Kristin. You’re a scandal waiting to happen.” Then he straightens, fixes his cuffs, and walks away. The deputies watch him go. One of them glances at me, like he’s still hoping I’ll lose my temper, but I don’t. Not today. Kristin exhales beside me and I see her hands are shaking.
“You okay?” I ask.
“No.”
“Good,” I say. “Because there’s nothing okay about this.”
She turns toward me, her face flushed, jaw tight. She looks like she’s holding it together by sheer force of will. “You know what the worst part is?” she says, voice low. “He still thinks he’s doing me a favor.”
I glance at the Mercedes pulling away. “He’s not used to being told no.”
“He doesn’t hear it,” she mutters. “He just rewrites it in his head until it sounds like yes.”
We stand in the shade of the clinic porch, the heat still thick around us. I look at her and she’s trembling, but not from fear. It’s from adrenaline. The kind I know you only get after a near-miss. “You need to go inside,” I say. “Cool off. Drink some water.”
