Page 32 of Lucky Strike

“Bria,” whines Liam, kicking his legs in protest. “I’m not gonna get a sunburn!”

He goes limp as I put him down, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Aww, come on. It’s been a good day.”

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I don’t want to go home.”

I scan the densely packed crowd surrounding us. The men have disappeared, but I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. Am I being paranoid? Seeing them over and over can’t be a coincidence, right? “We’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Promise?” he asks.

“I’ll do my best. We have the whole summer.”

He folds his arms, his bottom lip jutting out so far that I’m worried he might trip over it.

“Come on, let’s get ice cream. I’ll give you a piggyback ride.” Switching my backpack to the front of my body, I squat down so Liam can climb on. “Ready?”

Securing his legs, I make a game of it, skipping and jogging across the grass until he’s cheering me on. We’ve nearly made it to the sidewalk when Liam squeezes his legs around me like he’s the jockey to my horse. “Ice cream, Bria! Ice cream!”

Shit, right. Satisfied the weirdos are nowhere to be seen, I hurry over to the ice cream vendor and order Liam an ice cream sandwich. “Keep the change,” I tell the woman, even though it was a ten. “Thanks!”

“Thanks!” Liam echoes.

Peeling the wrapper halfway down, I hand him his treat. “Don’t get any in my hair, okay?”

“Okay.”

We’ve taken two steps when someone yells “watch out!” way too close. I whirl around clunkily as a shirtless blond guy comes within inches of me, diving for a football. Catching it, he rolls around the grass with a triumphant shout.

“Oh,” breathes Liam, patting my cold, sticky temple. “Oh nooo.”

The blond jumps to his feet, wincing probably at the ice cream dripping from my hair. Or maybe the murderous look on my face. “Woah, sorry.”

“You should be,” I snap, my face hot.

“You should be!” Liam growls as the guy jogs off. “My ice cream sammich!”

I glance at the ice cream vendor, where a small line is forming. There’s an SUV parked on the street near the Common, and inside I see the man with the ponytail. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Ma always says I’m too nervous for my own good, that a steady diet of true crime podcasts has made me unreasonably suspicious, but you know what? I’d rather be paranoid than dead.

Tightening my grip on Liam, I hurry to the sidewalk and, after lookingboth ways, cross the street. I reach into the front pocket of my backpack for my house key and jam it in, glancing at the street behind us, at the SUV. Trembling, I dart inside and slam the door shut. Liam slides down my back, the remnants of his crushed ice cream sandwich still in his fist.

Willing my heart to slow, I slip off my backpack and set it at my feet. “I’m so sorry about your ice cream, buddy.”

He frowns at the side of my head. “Is your ear cold?”

Cringing, I touch it. “No, but it’s sticky.”

I peek through one of the narrow windows beside the front door. The SUV is gone.

Nola setsa bowl of ice cream down in front of Liam. “There you go, love.”

He digs in, all prior disappointments forgotten in the face of more sugar. “What d’you say?” I prompt.

“Thank you, Nola!”

“You’re welcome, sweet.” She rubs his back as she glances my way. “Bria, I need your help with something.”

“Sure.” I follow her into the walk-in pantry between the kitchen and the laundry room.

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