Page 73 of One Life to Loathe

“I already bought tickets.”

“You did? What if I would’ve said no?”

“You weren’t going to say no.”

“You don’t know that. I could’ve said no.”

All I could do was shake my head. “Sometimes I think you like to be contrary just to be contrary.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s you.”

“Not today.”

The words must have hit home because she nodded. “Fine. You’re right. Let’s go on a trolley ride.”

WE SAT TOWARD THE BACK OF THE TROLLEY.Sam was shorter, so I insisted she take the window seat. That allowed me to serve as a buffer should it be necessary. Sure, Salem wasn’t a hotbed of crime. I wanted her safe beyond all else.

I tuned out the tour guide. I didn’t really care whereHocus Pocuswas filmed. I was just happy to be able to hold Sam’s hand in public and relish her warmth. She took it all in, her eyes filling with excitement, and I just floated on the feeling her smile filled me with.

There I was being happy again.

Between tour highlights, I could feel Sam studying my face. She was one of those people who didn’t bother to hide her expression unless she was doing a scene. That’s how I knew she was having deep thoughts.

“Just say it,” I said after about fifteen minutes of her sneaking surreptitious glances.

“Say what?” She was the picture of innocence.

“Whatever it is you’re chewing on over there.”

“How do you know I’m chewing on anything?”

I fixed her with a pointed look. “I know. Just say it.”

“It’s not a statement. It’s a question.”

“Okay.” I waited.

“I’m afraid to ask it,” she admitted. “I don’t want to ruin our day.”

“You can’t ruin our day by asking a question. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer the question, but you can ask whatever you want.”

“Okay.” She licked her lips. “There’s a story out there about you and your parents.”

My heart constricted. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew about the story—it was out there for anybody to find—but it wasn’t something I talked about. Ever.

“Never mind,” she said when I sat in frozen contemplation. “I’m a donkey. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

That snapped me out of my dark thoughts. “You’re not a donkey. That’s me.”

“I can be a donkey if I want to be a donkey.”

That nudged a small smile out of me. “I just don’t talk about it.”

“Okay.” She immediately turned toward the street view. “Don’t you just love these old houses? I would love to live in ahistoric home one day. I know you have to jump through hoops if you have one, but I think it would be worth it.”

I let my gaze wander over the lean line of her neck and sighed. “It wasn’t the first time.”

She looked troubled when she turned back to me. “What wasn’t?”

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