Page 162 of The Friend Scheme
Maybe I should leave.
But then I see him in the distance, and it all makes sense. He’s wearing a light blue dress shirt and slacks. Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t see who he really is before.
He looksjustlike a rookie cop.
He stands. His mouth is hanging open, and he looks at me like he hasn’t seen me in decades.
My heart goes wild.
He slowly walks toward me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
He throws his arms around me.
He holds me tight, and my first thought is that I should push him off.
Instead, I sink into the hug.
God, how did I survive without this? How was I strong enough?
We hold each other. I rest my cheek on his shoulder and close my eyes. He smooths down the hair on the back of my head. For the first time in a while, everything feels somewhat okay.
I’m exactly where I want to be. With him.
We break apart.
“You look so good,” he says. “I knew coming here was a risk, but I’ve never been able to resist a handsome man. It’s my Achilles’ heel.”
I mean. That helps. He’s not totally off the hook, but it definitely helps.
“Thanks.”
I smooth down my shirt. I’m wearing a white shirt and my tailored black slacks. I wanted him to see me like this, as a reminder of who I really am.
A Miller.
I’m done pretending.
He narrows his eyes. “Are you okay?”
I shrug and stick my hands into my pockets. “How much do you know about what’s happened?”
“Just that the bar burned down. That’s all I know, I promise.”
I picture the open window of the car blocking our path. Then the sound of gunfire.
“Were you there that night?” he asks.
“I was.”
“I’m guessing it was more than a gas leak?”
“That would be correct.”
He nods.
