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I was ready to pay a visit to Mina Lee. Daniel wanted food. Now, I know teenage guys like to eat. Teenage wrestlers really like to eat. Well, unless they're trying to get into a lower weight class, but Daniel never does that. So, it wasn't surprising that he'd want to grab food.
"I feel like fish," he said. "Let's swing by Pirate Chips."
"Hard to eat fish and chips while you're driving," I said.
"We'll dine in."
He started toward the sidewalk. When he realized I wasn't following, he turned.
"You don't need to talk to her about Serena," I said.
"What?"
"I'm the one who wants answers, not you. I get that. I can do this alone."
"I'm not--" He cut off the word with a snap. "I'm tired of playing the grieving boyfriend, okay? It's been a year, and still everyone makes me feel like--"
He stopped and turned his back.
"Makes you feel like what?" I moved up beside him.
"Just ... stop doing that, okay? Stop pussyfooting around the subject of Serena. Stop treating me like I'm dying of a broken heart. Stop making me feel like I should be." He rubbed his mouth. "That didn't come out right. I don't mean ... Of course, I miss her. She was a friend. A really good friend. I'm just ..."
"Tired of being treated like the heartbroken boyfriend when you want to move on. Is that why it's not working with Nicole? You feel guilty because you want to date again?"
He threw up his hands and let out a growl of frustration that made passing tourists decide the other side of the street looked much more interesting. As he watched them cross, his growl turned to a laugh.
He shook his head at me. "The only thing holding me back from dating Nicole is a complete lack of interest, okay? As for Serena, I want answers, too. I've wanted them for a while, but since we weren't discussing it--and, yes, that's partly my fault, not wanting to upset you--I've never said so. I do want to talk to Mina Lee and see what she knows, and the only reason I'm stalling is because I've got something to say first. It's going to piss you off, and I'd really rather be sitting in a public place when it happens."
"So I won't storm off?"
"Exactly."
"I'd never do that, Daniel." I stepped closer and looked up at him. "You have the keys, and it's a very, very long walk--"
I snagged the keys from his pocket and took off. I easily darted around a gaggle of senior citizens nearly blocking the sidewalk. Daniel didn't have as much luck, and I heard him apologizing amid gasps and harrumphs. I raced toward the harbor. I was rounding the local theater, planning to circle back, when Daniel's shout pulled me up short.
I turned. He barreled toward me, his eyes wide with alarm. Right, like I was falling for that one.
I started to run again. I should have been able to outpace him easily. I always could. But the next thing I knew, I was being tackled. He knocked me into an alcove, both of us hitting the wall, then collapsing to the ground.
"Stay down!" he said.
Not much chance of doing anything else with him on top of me. But when I glanced up into his eyes, I saw that the panic wasn't fake. He looked around as if expecting a posse of armed gunmen to round the corner at any moment. When footsteps sounded, he tensed, muscles bunching, prepared to leap up and defend us against--
Two preteen boys passed the alcove. One of them saw us and whispered to his friend. They grinned our way and shot Daniel a thumbs-up.
When they'd gone by, I pushed him off me.
"Okay, I might have overreacted," he said as we sat up.
"You think?"
He pushed to his feet and looked around. "I thought I saw someone."
"Where?"
"I--I--" He looked around. "I don't know. Down there maybe?" He pointed along the wharf. "I was running after you and it happened so fast, I didn't get a good look."
