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Within minutes, I park on the street in front of Rosenberg’s Deli. Skylar stands inside next to the door, smiling when she sees me approach.
“Hey, girl,” I greet, pulling her in for a hug.
She embraces me with equal strength. “Hey.” Then she releases me and takes a step toward the order line. “I’m starving.”
We place our orders then find a table. Though we arrived earlier than the lunch rush, the deli is quiet. Too quiet.
Like every other food establishment in town, some days are busier than others. Select times of the day are busier than others. Rosenberg’s always has a line, whether it’s for sandwiches, deli meats, premade salads, or heat-and-eat meals. There is always someone roaming the small selection of groceries.
Not today. One other person waits for their lunch, but not at a table.
“Feels like we’ve entered some parallel universe,” I say, peering out the window at the empty sidewalk.
“Right?” Skylar follows my line of sight. “Where is everyone?” She unwraps her straw and takes a sip of her Dr Pepper. “Law is freaked out, too.” Light green eyes hold my steely blues. “Made me promise to check in with him anytime I leave or arrive somewhere.”
Skylar and Lawrence’s relationship is still young, but I’ve never seen someone as fiercely protective of another person the way Lawrence is with Skylar. He gives her freedom to spread her wings while simultaneously keeping her close.
Our night out at Dalton’s six months ago went from a girls’ night—with the possibility of hooking up with a guy—to the start of their relationship. I watched him eye-fuck her from the opposite end of the bar as we sipped our drinks. When we hit the dance floor, he rescued her after a wrong move that led to a sprained ankle.
Their relationship turned heads and stirred up gossip, but I loved watching my friend fall hard and fast.
Love may not be something I’m actively seeking, but a part of me wishes I hadmy person. Someone who would drop everything when I texted or called. Someone who wanted every available minute of my time and craved my affection.
But in the same breath, having someone consume such a large piece of my heart terrifies me to no end.
“We should all check in with each other until this passes over. Especially if we’re alone.”
Skylar nods as her eyes lose focus.
In record time, our food is delivered to the table. We eat in relative silence as a few other patrons come in for lunch, somber smiles on their faces when they look our way.
Sick of the silence but unsure what to talk about, I speak what’s on my mind. What’s on everyone’s mind. “Why do you think someone killed her?” I keep my voice low.
Skylar dunks her grilled cheese in her soup over and over. “Your guess is as good as mine.” She shrugs. “Why does anyone do crazy shit like that?” Bringing the softened sandwich to her lips, she pauses. “’Cause something isn’t right with their mind.” Then she bites into her sandwich.
I hum. “True.”
I guess there is no appropriate explanation as to why people commit heinous acts. But part of me is curious what makes the switch flip in their heads. What moment triggers them to think it is a good idea to hurt or take another life.
“I hate that this happened,” she says, setting the spoon in her now empty soup bowl. “I hate that one person has the power to darken countless other lives with their actions.”
Her words revive memories from my childhood. Memories that, no matter how many years pass, will always haunt me. Memories of the darkest time in my own life I see clear as day when I close my eyes. And one specific memory I wish would fade away rather than suppress all the good memories before it.
I drop my chin to my chest, close my eyes, and inhale deeply. One breath at a time, I shove the dark memories down, down, down. Force them into an invisible box in my mind labeledDo not open.Push past the dark days that followed the worst day of my life. Swallow past the emotion suddenly clogging my throat as I try my damnedest to shake off the past.
“Hey.” Fingers squeeze my hand. “You okay?”
One more deep breath.
I lick my lips, open my eyes, and lift my gaze to meet hers. Concern tugs her brows in as worried eyes flit between mine.
“Yeah.” I flip my hand over and grip hers tightly. “Old memory.”
“About your dad?”
Skylar was my first friend in Stone Bay. For years, I didn’t share much of myself with anyone in town. But she was patient and kind and always there when I needed a friend. She stuck by my side on the good and bad days, solidifying the foundation of our friendship each time she wrapped me in her arms while I cried. At the time, she had no idea why I cried so much. She didn’t ask, which made me love her more. And when I finally felt strong enough to share my story, she held my hand and listened without interruption.
Only a select few in Stone Bay know about my dad and what happened to him. I don’t want anyone’s pity, and neither does Mom. We choose to celebrate the good times we shared with him.
