They’d done their best to keep things under the small-town radar. Mark’s truck was parked at Riley’s for hours, but most people knew he was working on her house, often while she wasn’t home. True, people speculated, watched, smiled, but nobody knew enough to come out and say that Mark Rivers and the art teacher were an item.
Thursday night while painting, Riley got a call from Yvette.
“How are you doing?”
The concern in her voice confused her. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Have you been watching TV tonight?”
Riley’s sense of self-protection knotted in her chest. “No. Why?”
Yvette sighed. “First off, Eyes on Hollywood is a guilty pleasure—I admit that.”
Riley tightened her grip on the paintbrush in her fingers.
“But they were doing a segment on Gavin Darrow, that actor from—well, I’m guessing you know. Anyway, he’s getting married to that actress—again, I’m guessing you know who—”
Riley’s heart dropped, and she sat down.
“—and they always do that part about who the actors were linked to in the past and . . . Honey, I had no idea. They said your father’s name, and then they showed pictures, and I know you’re a private person—”
Riley’s head spun as Yvette went on. This couldn’t be happening. If Yvette had seen it, then who knows who else had? Gavin could’ve at least warned her or—
“—my first thought was that you’d need a friend. No wonder you picked up and moved here, after being under a microscope like that. Of course, that show sensationalizes everything. You’ve obviously wanted it kept quiet, and I just had to warn you that it likely won’t be quiet anymore. I wanted you to know I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” she answered numbly. How much had been shared on TV? What pictures had they used? She rubbed at her aching chest, her eyes burning. “It’s in the past.” Gavin was getting married. To the woman she’d caught him with.
“Does Mark know about Gavin?”
Mark. Memories of all the side-glances and scrutiny from the people of Miracle Creek flipped through her mind, all the questioning looks at her and Dalton, all the conjecture about her and Mark were suddenly amplified. She remembered every car that slowed as it passed by, every eyebrow that rose, and every look of judgment from Dalton’s admirers, people watching on their porches like they had their own Eyes on Hollywood. And now this. It would be a match on a gas leak. A leak she couldn’t patch up no matter how far she ran.
And Mark would go up in flames with her.
She struggled to breathe. She didn’t want it. Any of it.
“He knows some,” she answered. “Not enough.”
“Will you talk to him before the memorial tomorrow?”
She dropped her head to her hand, not knowing how to answer.
On Friday afternoon, the day of the memorial ceremony at the park, Mark sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the bulletin board he’d covered with cards and drawings and the picture of him and Jay. He turned the glass doorknob over and over in his hands while his speech lay next to him on the bed, read a hundred times.
A knock sounded. “Come in.”
His dad entered and sat down next to him. “How’re you holding up?”
He cocked an eyebrow, and his dad nodded.
“You’ll be fine. I know Jay would appreciate this.”
“Are you kidding? He’s getting a good laugh. ‘Look what I got Mark into.’”
His dad chuckled. “That sounds about right.” He patted Mark on the shoulder.
“I’ll be okay, Dad.”
“Good to hear it.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I wanted to run by you.”
“You sound nervous.”
“Probably because I am. I figured I better start practicing what I preach. I’m asking Yvette to go with me to the dance next week.”
Mark arched a brow. “You asking my permission?”
His dad paused and then chuckled. “Heck no. Just wanted to let you know so if I disappear for a few minutes after the ceremony, you’ll know what I’m up to.”
He gave his dad a smirk. “Glad to see your priorities are in line.”
His dad slapped him on the back. “They are. You have a lot to do with that. What do you need me for anyway, right?”
Mark lowered his head with a smile. “Right.”
His dad stood up, heading for the door.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Yvette’s great.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” He cocked his head. “Are you picking up Riley for the ceremony?”
He shook his head. “This is something I need to do on my own.”
“I guess I can understand that. See you downstairs?”
Mark nodded. His dad turned to go.
“Dad? Have you heard if Gainer’s taking Riley to the dance?”
His dad made a sound of exasperation. “Not that I’m aware of. Yvette asked me why you hadn’t asked her yet. I had no answer. Got one for me?”
Mark didn’t.
“Hey,” his dad said gently. “You’ll do great up there today.”
The door closed, and Mark thought for a moment, smoothing his fingers over the glass.
He knew of an estate auction Riley would love out near Orondo. Old stuff like barn wood and old clocks and stained glass. Maybe he’d ask her to the dance then.
He reached for his phone to text Riley.
Can I take you somewhere tomorrow? I promise no blood.
He set his phone down and pushed his hand through his hair, the callouses on his palm brushing against his scars. He sighed. What was he doing? He couldn’t get her out of his head. He didn’t want her out. He craved her like water. But he felt it. Something coming. Something he should be bolting from. He didn’t know if it was fear or insecurity or self-preservation.
His phone buzzed.
I’ll see you after the ceremony. We can talk then. Good luck today.
He smiled. Riley made him forget he was scarred. And that was worth any storm coming.
I know a lot of you think I’m a hero.”
Riley wrung her hands, as she’d been doing since Mark had ascended the platform next to the veiled memorial. Miracle Creek had come out in full force, with who-knew-how-many from
