Page 240 of Worth the Trip

“Nyla.”

“What?”

“I like when you say my name.”

She stared at him, then deliberately returned to the table.

Malcolm laughed and finally walked away.

Beside me, Landon murmured, “He in there.”

I elbowed him.

“Mind your business.”

“Gladly.”

His fingers slid through mine.

I looked at my sister, who was suddenly far too interested in folding a tablecloth that had already been folded.

For once, I kept my mouth shut.

Some stories deserved the dignity of introducing themselves.

By the time the final Crème & Chill bin disappeared inside the refrigerated trailer, evening had wrapped Self Springs in string lights, warm air, and saxophone notes drifting from the stage. Families still lingered over final plates, while vendors broke down tents, and children chased one another between adults who looked several hours past ready to go home.

Nyla came from the trailer carrying two bottled waters while Malcolm followed with the folded canopy strapped across one shoulder.

I looked from him to her.

“Don’t, Noli.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were preparing to.”

“I was admiring your volunteer labor.”

Malcolm adjusted the canopy. “See? Somebody appreciate me.”

Nyla looked back. “You volunteered yourself.”

“And you ain’t stopped me.”

“I’m conserving energy.”

“Whatever help you sleep tonight.”

She handed me a water.

Landon appeared beside me, twisted off the cap, and gave it back.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Nyla made a face.