My stomach growled as I stepped in line, surprising me that the stench of old Mick didn’t completely kill my appetite. I spun around and eyed the small selection of pastries and snacks. Shrugging, I decided the lemonade would be sweet enough to combine with a little something salty. I grabbed a corn dog with the tongs stationed beside the display and shoved one into a paper bag. Beat down and stale as they looked, they couldn’t possibly be any worse than prison food.
“Welcome to Country Corner, can I take your—ohhh!” The goth teenager behind the counter interrupted herself with a wide-eyed stare before quickly forcing that trademark boredom back in place. “Well, well, well—Kash Lawson. As hot as ever, I see.”
I blinked, then squinted. Nope, not a clue. She would have been nine, maybe as old as eleven or twelve when I was arrested. I didn’t make a habit of checking out kids and thick as the eyeliner was around her eyes, I wasn’t going to make a habit of checking her out now. “Large lemonade and a corn dog,” I said.
“Is that all you want?” She dropped her voice suggestively and ran her black-rimmed eyes over my body. Jesus H. Christ, what has this town come to?
“Yup.”
“Oh come on, Kash—I heard that men get all kinds of horny when they’re in the big house.” She bit her lips at me and winked.
“The big house, huh?”
She nodded earnestly. “Oh, yeah. And all that sexual tension has to go somewhere, right? Let me throw you a bone. Or—” She bit her lip and giggled. “Vice versa.”
I kept my face blank and stared at her. She was damn persistent—it took an entire thirteen seconds for her to get the hint. She jabbed a black-clawed finger at the register, punctuating her anger with a snarl.
“$9.95,” she said sourly.
I winced. Inflation’s a bitch. But I paid her the money and she snatched it from me, then scribbled on my receipt before handing it to me.
“Have a terrible day,” she said.
“You too.”
She moved on to her next customer without another word, but kept shooting burning glances in my direction. I looked down at the receipt and rolled my eyes. Her handwriting was round and cute, like every preppy little girl in high school. You’re toxic and I love it. Call me.
Hunter would have. He would call and take her out and show her a nice time and tell her that she deserved better. He’d run a whole therapy session on her and have her broken down crying and screaming affirmations into the wind by the end of it. Then he’d drop her off at home and forget all about her.
I was never good at that crap. If someone wanted to ride the danger wave, sure, I’d help them. But I wouldn’t ride it with them, and I wouldn’t talk them out of it. I didn’t figure it was any of my business, just like she wasn’t any of my business now. Girls like that were damaged ever since the day they were born and it didn’t take a damaged man like me to fix them. Hell, even therapy didn’t have a chance.
I took my food outside. Not just for the novelty—prison wasn’t well-known for picnic lunches—but for the vantage point. There was a single exception to my “don’t get involved” rule, and there was a good chance she’d pass by this way. At least I hoped the chances were good. She hadn’t answered any of my letters or phone calls, but I imagined it would have taken her at least this long to scrape the cash together to leave this dump.
Shadows lengthened in the dull afternoon as I sat watching the town go by. Occasionally someone would try to strike up a conversation with me, but I brushed them all off. It didn’t matter to me whether they wanted to fight or congratulate me for getting away with murder. I was bored of the conversation and there was only one person left in the whole world whose opinion of me mattered.
Prison had given me the gift of patience, something I’d never developed before. Evening fell soft and purple as the storefront lights flickered on, and still I sat dawdling over my warmed lemonade. The corndog was long gone, but that head-sized bucket of too-sweet lemonade had at least another hour of dawdling left in it. The church across town rang its bell six times and my muscles grew more and more tired with each ring. Waiting out here, despite the lack of exertion, was getting exhausting. I took another sip of my drink and rubbed at my eyes. So many thoughts pounded my mind. So many things that didn’t need to sit. That didn’t need to become bigger than the burdens I was already carrying. Of course, they were all things I would have to approach one way or the other. Questions like – where do I go from here? What does life have in store for me? Is starting over even possible? Hard questions.
A lone figure stepped onto the sidewalk down the road from me, coming from the unpaved, disorganized collection of quarter-acre lots at the back end of town. The distraction was just what I needed to pull my mind away from my wayward thoughts. Though, if I were to be honest with myself, she was the biggest and the most important question I had. At least it felt that way.
I allowed my eyes to follow her, to take her in, examine what I could see of her from head to toe. She was taller and thinner than I remembered, but she moved the same way. That rippling sway
