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On Joe’s other side were Tanner and Chris and Rico. They appeared to be wrestling, with Chris standing in the middle, holding Tanner and Rico in headlocks on either side of him. He was grinning, a big goofy thing that made me ache.
Next to Rico was Carter, glaring at the timber wolf, who had its tongue lolling out of its mouth. But his hand was on its back, fingers curled into the hair.
And then…
I saw me.
I looked different. My dark hair was shorter, the sides shaved with length left on top. My green eyes were bright, my glasses sitting crooked on my face. I looked loose and happy. I wore a leather jacket that looked a little big on me, with a patch on the front that looked like a raven. I thought it was Gordo’s.
I wasn’t looking at the camera or at any of the others.
I only had eyes for one person.
And oh, was he smiling at me as if I were the only thing in his entire world. Our hands were joined between us, and Kelly Bennett had stars in his eyes. He was taller than me, his head tilted downward as he watched me. I looked as if I were in the middle of telling a story he’d heard a million times. And even though it looked cold, he was wearing a thin shirt. No jacket. Peeking out from the collar was a dimple in the skin.
The top of a scar.
Without thinking, I reached up and touched my own neck. Rigid bumps extended down to the top of my shoulder.
It was a glamour, Jessie whispered in the storm.
All those times I’d thought I felt something there.
All those times I’d rubbed my neck, sure something was off.
I picked up the photo, bringing it close to my face, sure I’d be able to see whatever trick this was. Photoshop. It had to be Photoshop. It was the only thing that made sense. They’d lifted my image and put it in this picture.
But for the life of me, I couldn’t ever remember a time I’d been so happy.
The glass above my face was smudged the most, as if whoever sat at this desk had brushed a finger over it more than the others.
I was startled when the frame splintered in my hands, the glass suddenly filled with a spiderweb of cracks.
I felt weak.
Tired.
The photo slipped from my hands and landed back on the desk. The glass broke, and the back of the frame popped off as it bent. The photo landed facedown, and I could see words written on the back of it, though I couldn’t make them out.
I pulled the back of the ruined frame off, letting it fall on the desk.
I could see the words clearly now.
SUNDAY TRADITION
FEB 3 2019
I couldn’t breathe.
The walls were closing in.
I had to get out of here.
I had to leave.
I stumbled from the office and headed toward the front. I pushed through the other door just as the siren cut off midscream, and I was assaulted by images hung on the walls.
There I was, standing between Chris and Rico, my arms around their shoulders.
