Page 23 of Resurrection
I nod toward the fresh glass. "You and the bottle getting along?"
His eyes are bloodshot as hell, and I know what he’s going to say even before he does.
"None of your damn business." His voice is low and biting. I remember the dark look on his face when I told him I was leaving for LA. How he tried to act like he didn’t care then either. I remember a lot of things. They all rush back at once.
He has that same dark look right now.
"You might want to slow down," I suggest softly, even though he's correct. His drinking isn't really my concern.
"Right. Tyler Brady knows what’s best for people in this town."
"Come on, I’m serious. It’s not a good look for a sheriff."
He tightens his jaw, and I know I’ve hit the nerve I was aiming for.
I expect an angry comeback, but instead, he grabs the drink and downs half of it. There’s no point pushing this any further.
"Well, suit yourself."
"Fuck off, Brady," he grumbles without looking at me.
"Alright. Catch you later." I turn around, ready to leave. Arguing with someone who’s clearly three sheets to the wind is useless.
"Hey," Adri calls.
I glance at him over my shoulder.
"Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my sister?"
I say nothing because I plan on doing the exact opposite.
I can’t seem to get Naomi out of my mind now that I’ve seen her, now that I’ve talked to her. It’s like she tied me to this town with some invisible rope. And I don't plan on leaving until we figure things out.
The main question is, where and how do I start?
8NAOMI
"Did you talk to Kelvin?"I ask Sonia.
She’s by my side, checking messages on her phone while parents and kids hover around, talking with their mouths full. "He’s on his way."
"ETA?"
"Fifteen minutes."
I zip back and forth along the table, checking off my mental list: forks, napkins, vegan options, emergency cupcakes. And Kelvin is bringing more drinks because of a smashing incident early this morning that cost us two boxes of bottled water.
Otherwise, we should be good through the rest of the afternoon.
In the corner, two boys are sword fighting with paintbrushes. Another kid licks chocolate off his sleeve while his mom pretends not to notice. It’s perfect. The noise, the colors, the feeling of barely organized chaos.
"Where are the utensils?" a woman in bright pink asks, eyeing the table.
I smile and wave to a tray with plastic folks, spoons and knives, but my eyes land on a boy and his dad across the room. Dad's way too dressed up and way too familiar.
Lachlan Pratt.
And just like that, I'm no longer having fun.
