Page 61 of The Weight Of Falling
“Come on, anyone would be upset if they were treated like a suspect.”
“Then let Owen do his job,” he says firmly. “If Bobby didn’t do it, he has nothing to worry about.”
I swipe my thumb across a stray water droplet on the counter. “Owen said it was probably just kids.”
“I know what he said.”
“But you don’t think it was random?” I ask hesitantly. “Just the wrong car at the wrong time?”
“I’m not sure,” he says slowly. “But I want you to take every precaution you can right now.”
My mouth goes dry. “What kind of precautions?”
His mask slips for a second. Just enough for me to glimpse something move across his face. Worry? Maybe fear? He watches me with his hands jammed in his pockets, as though to stop himself from reaching for me.
“Keep your phone on you. Lock your doors, even during the day. And if anything feels off, I want you to call me. I don’t care what time it is, you call me.”
I stare at him, taken aback by the urgency in his voice. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”
“I’ve seen how things can escalate,” he says simply.
That’s all he offers, but it’s enough to raise unsettling questions into the silence between us.
What things? What is he not saying? And why does it feel like there’s a story behind his silence?
“Kenzie,” he says forcefully. “Promise me you’ll call.”
I’m unsure what to do with this strange swell in my chest, this ache of being protected so fiercely by someone who is still a mystery to me.
“I promise,” I finally whisper.
“Thank you.” He tries for a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a little paranoid because it’ll be a real hassle trying to find another fake fiancée to keep Farah at bay.”
It’s meant as a joke, his own attempt to use humor to ease the tension, but his worry has seeped into me and I can’t find it in me to return his smile.
“I’m sorry about all this,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t think any of it is helped by all the attention we’ve drawn to ourselves. My little stunt on Main didn’t help either.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “That was reckless of me. Reckless and stupid. From now on, we need to make more of an effort to keep things between us low-key.”
“If that’s what you want.” My words are small and thin, like they’re stitched together from fraying threads.
“That’s what I want,” he says brusquely, pushing off the kitchen island. “Lock the door behind me.”
“I will.”
He lingers for a second or two longer, like there’s something else he wants to say. Then he turns and walks out the door.
I flip the deadbolt into place, but nothing about this moment feels secure. Not the lock. Not the quiet. And definitely not the questions he’s left behind.
24
I nearly collide with Brianne outside Beth’s Bakery. She’s holding a takeaway coffee and her eyes light up when she sees me.
“Kenzie, you look amazing,” she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. The faint scent of jasmine and lavender lingers around her. It doesn’t surprise me, considering she runs the flower shop on Main and possesses an uncanny gift when it comes to anything green.
I glance down at myself. I’m wearing jeans, a dusky pink sweater, and my hair’s in a ponytail that’s more practical than polished. “You might be the only person in town who could call this amazing,” I say with a laugh. “But I’ll take it. Thank you.”
She studies me for a moment, head tilted. “No, seriously. There’s something different about you.” Her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “You have a glow.”
“A glow?” I echo.
