Page 12 of Slash & Burn

My heart started to hammer and I swallowed dry air.

“We’ve got a really good one for you today,” I went on, forcing myself to speak despite the wobble in my voice. “I think you’re going to be pretty pleased with our selection.”

I turned awkwardly, trying to avoid the questioning eyes of the camp’s program director, as I reached for the copy we’d set on stage.

“Have any of you heard of this one?” I asked, bringing the book up to face the crowd, and noticing with embarrassment that my hands were shaking too hard for anyone to read the damn cover. “It’s a new book, but everyone loves it.”

A hushed murmur started in the back of the crowd, and bodies shifted, as if people were about to actually get up and leave because Grady hadn’t shown. If I could have smiled while puking, that’s what I would have been doing. I tried to project a beam of determined fervor at the kids and adults now entirely distracted in front of me.

“There!” someone shouted and an arm stretched out to point in the direction of the parking lot. I peeked over my shoulder at the director, who looked just as confused. She shrugged and I faced the crowd again, determined to press on.

“Let’s get started, okay?”

“He’s here!” a little boy called out, jumping to stand up on one of the log benches.

Another boy jumped up beside him and his expression erupted. “Holloway is here!”

In a wave, the whole crowd began to turn and look, leaning and standing on tip toes to see over the rest. I was blocked from whatever they were seeing by a stand of thick pines, but I heard the roar of an engine entirely too close to the stage area, and then a car door slammed.

Grady came jogging around the trees to a sudden uproar—every parent, child, and camp counselor clapping and yelling as if Beyoncé herself had just arrived. He was in a pair of gray slacks and a crisp white button down, and his hair looked like it was wet. Even still, he managed to look polished and poised, clearly unaffected by his tardiness like I was.

Beside me the director sighed so loudly I could hear her over the crowd’s noise, and part of me took offense at the depth of her relief, even if I shared it.

Grady took the stairs in one big stride, his size and grace as irritating to me as everything else about him now. And he only made that feeling run more potently through my veins when he flashed his wide, perfect-teeth, mussed hair, million-dollar smile at me before turning to face his adoring fans.

It was, perhaps, wildly unfair for me to hate that he was being given this attention, while at the same time wanting him there for that exact purpose. But he’d let me down. He was meant to shield me from the crowd he was now so confidently commanding with his mere presence. And he’d failed. Even if just for a few minutes, he’d left me on my own. In front of all these people. It was my worst nightmare come to life and it sucked to admit I’d always thought Grady of all people would never have let that happen.

“So, sorry I’m late,” he apologized, not even bothering to look back at me when he said it. “I would never miss this chance though, so I’m so glad I got here in time. Do you all still want to read some books?”

The kids screamed and the parents beamed, and I handed Grady the book with as much of a smile as I could. His gaze lingered on me for only a fraction of a second, and I wanted to believe it held remorse, but he was too quick, turning back to take his seat before I could be sure.

He finished the program and took questions for half an hour, never once looking anything but professional. I knew he’d been given media training when he joined the league, but Grady would have hardly needed it. He’d been a skilled operator since he was thirteen years old and charmed my mom with a batch of homemade cookies into agreeing to let Joey go to an ice fishing derby for the weekend, three hours away, with only his eighteen-year-old cousin as a chaperone.

The man could have charmed the pants off a mannequin. And he knew it.

By the time the counselors had corralled the kids into their cabin groups for lunch, and the parents had been shooed away by the program director, it was just he and I in the tiny cabin gathering our things. Or more accuratelyIwas gatheringmythings. Grady didn’t need any things, because all he had to do was show up to do his part.

“That went pretty well, right?” he asked, swiping his fingers through his short brown hair.

I tossed a dismissive glance over my shoulder, refusing to even acknowledge that lame bid for praise. Hadn’t he gotten enough from everyone else? When I was done packing up, I went to leave, shuffling past his wide frame blocking half the door.

“Hey,” he said, jogging after me. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Ah, so you do realize your lateness affected me too? Cool.” I kept walking, heading for my car, and shaking my head as we walked past his, parked up on the lawn like he’d come speeding in to save the day. The fact that thatwaswhat he’d done, as far as I was concerned, only soured my mood further.

“Jill, stop. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

When I got to my car, I flung open the passenger door and tossed my tote bag inside.

“You knew how important this was,” I said, keeping my eyes down.

As I shut the door and went to move around him, he blocked my path, bending his knees so we were at the same level. His brow was hanging low, his mouth curved into a frown.

“I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you just have been here on time? Like you promised?”

A sigh deflated him, and he turned to sag into my car. “I slept through my alarm.”

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