Page 2 of To Have and to Scold

I tried a pixie cut once. In fourth grade. And it looked like a yorkie wearing a beehive wig. It wasnotsophisticated like McKenna’s.

But I digress.

My ex and his new girlfriend, my cousin, are sitting right there, looking at me with wide eyes, like they heard my scream and are glued to their seats in awe.

I freeze. You know that fight, flight, freeze, or fawn thing? That’s me. My feet are sealed to the ground, my hand still outstretched to the gate to the boardwalk, my mouth gaping open.

“Dallas?” Holden says, offering a bit of a laugh, as if to say,oh boy…can we avoid a scene, please?He’s wearing a bright orange T-shirt and board shorts.

“Are you okay? We heard the ruckus over there.” McKenna scrunches her brows together in mock concern. How do I know it’s mock concern? Because I’ve known her since I was born, that’s why.

Holden joined us on a family bungee jumping excursion to celebrate our grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary—yes, my Grandad and Noomi are cool like that.

McKenna got scared and started freaking out at the top of the crane thing and who comforted her?

Holden. I witnessed the shared laugh between them as he gave her a pep talk so she could go through with the bungee jumping.

And that’s when I knew that McKenna and Holden would eventually fall in love.

I finally find my voice, the memories of that bungee jumping moment of clarity searing through my stomach like a combo of Pop Rocks and spicy, neon-red Takis.

“I was mildly accosted by a llama. But I am all good. Really, really good.” I give up a giggle that sounds about as foreign as if I’d suddenly tried to speak in Italian. Then, “What are you two doing in Willow Cove? I should have you over to my new place!”

“New place? You live here?” Holden asks, his brows going sky high.

“Yep.” I’m nodding so vigorously that my neck spasms. “I start work on Monday.”

“Wow!” McKenna drawls in her natural, Georgian accent. “Congratulations on finding something.”

“What are you guys doing here?” It’s then that I realize my hand is still outstretched to the gate, in midair, my fingers curled in some odd, witchlike pose. I drop my hand and the blood starts to rush back into it.

“I grew up coming here with my family, remember?” Holden says. “McKenna and I thought we’d go on our own spring break vacation here.”

I do remember him telling me he used to travel to Willow Cove in the summers with his family, but I couldn’t have known that would mean he would bring McKenna—the cousin who didn’t even tell me she’d started dating Holden. I had to find out from someone else.

“Well, text me and we can meet up if you want to!” Now my voice is reaching the highest of decibels. If I stay at this any longer, I’ll be at operatic levels.

I give a wave with my half-dead hand and step to the gate, head down, my smile as frozen as my feet once were.

I’m outside the diner’s patio, my sights set on my car that’s parked an unfortunate hundred yards away. I catch a glimpse of a couple of guys in my peripheral vision.

“You okay?” offers the taller one as he comes through the gate, holding it open for the man behind him. He’s wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and leather slides on his feet. His eyes are velvety rich chocolate.

“That was some scream,” the other one says. They look like they could be brothers with the same dark hair and tanned skin.

I make another waving motion like I did to the server and to my cousin and my ex, like,no big whoop. “I’m fine.” I laugh. “Mythroat’s a little sore, though.” I realize I’m raspy. It’d better clear up by Monday morning.

“Can I ask what happened?” the tall one says, joining my stride down the boardwalk.

The shorter one looks like he’s holding back a smile—at my expense.

“You know, the llama was flirting with me, and things got a little—wet.”

The shame of it is hitting me. Not only for the unholy screaming I just did, but all of it. All the things during the past two weeks ofWhat in heaven’s name is happening to the dumpster fire that has become my life?are culminating right now. Tears are even threatening.

I clutch my middle, hoping and praying I can keep it together and the tomato bisque down.

The men start to laugh. “Sorry about Prince Harry,” the taller one says. “King tries to keep him in his pen, but he likes strutting through town like he’s in a parade.”

---