Page 24 of Just Can't Fall for the Enemy

“Tell me what this is about,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“You obviously don’t feel comfortable with my being in town. I’d like to know why.”

She sighed. “I’m not great at pretending, am I?”

“On the contrary. You’re excellent. I, on the other hand, am terrible at reading people. It’s something I need to work on. Unfortunately, that means I need you to explain.” I nodded to her. “Please.”

“It’s not you, exactly,” she said hesitantly. “It’s your audience.”

That was the last thing I’d expected her to say. The surprise distracted me from the stifling heat baking my insides. “I don’t follow.”

“But they do, and that’s the problem. When you left Yakima, Washington, did you pay attention to what happened afterward?”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your groupies took over the hotel you stayed at, terrorized the poor woman at the desk, and vandalized some vehicles in the parking lot. The guy who let you camp out in his field among the goats that one night? He had to hire security to protect his property because people kept trying to steal his animals simply because you petted them.”

Oh yeah. The “goat camping” episode. “I feel for the guy, but I can’t help what people do after they watch.”

Anger burned in her eyes. “Reno, Nevada. A group tried to race along the freeway at midnight to re-create your experience. Two cars hit each other and sent both drivers to the hospital.”

That one I’d heard. The news made me sick at heart for days. “I lectured them about that at the beginning of the next episode.”

“What about that skate park you visited in Milwaukee? The one with the teen who got hurt in that fight?”

Skate park? This was news to me. “Okay, but teens fight at those things all the time.”

“Then there’s the fire in Jamaica—”

“I get it,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. Jill handled my social media accounts, and I rarely watched the news, so maybe I needed to change that. “Wait. Did you say there was a fire?”

She smiled grimly. “Just over half of Huckleberry Creek’s residents once lived in big cities. They came because, here, we take care of each other. We protect one another. We can’t keep bad things from happening, but some of the worst disasters hit when some of us left the safety of Huckleberry Creek for out there,” she said, waving past the trees, “or when an outsider brought danger to us. Maybe not intentionally, but their fault nonetheless.”

It all came together now. “You think my followers will descend on your town and hurt people.”

“They’ve done it everywhere else. Why not here?”

“You believe that driving me away before I can expose this town will keep you safe.” I cocked my head, suddenly seeing her in a new light. “You aren’t the grumpy old man defending his lawn. You’re the mama bear protecting her cubs. The question is, why do you feel so responsible for them?”

She put her face in her hands as if embarrassed. I’d hit some kind of nerve, I guess, because she sat like that for a long time. A trickle of sweat ran down my neck as I waited.

“It’s time to leave,” she finally said, finality in her voice.

I groaned inwardly. “I appreciate how much you love your town, but I really think we can work this out. If I give some kind of disclaimer—”

“No, I mean I need to get out. I feel dizzy.” She dropped her hands. Her face looked redder than before, her gaze distant.

Then her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed into the water.

Eleven

A headache loomedbehind my eyes like a distant storm. Above me, a shadow blocked the sunlight. Trees? And a face. I really liked that face.

The face sighed in relief. “You scared me, Sophie Goodman. I thought I’d have to summon those old lifeguarding skills from high school.”

No, no. I did not like that face. Or I did but wasn’t supposed to?

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