Page 78 of Love Me Fierce

“Faster!” someone cries.

Another parent comes to help, pushing one of the bars while running alongside. Faces blur and some of the kids shriek in delight. I keep my eye on Matty, but my mind is spinning as fast as the merry-go-round.

The easy choice is to stay at The Meadows. I can’t afford to throw away that kind of money.

There might be a loophole to fight the lease so I can move out sooner than April but researching that option will take time. Meanwhile, it’s not like I can move back to the trailer. It’s still the mess I walked away from Tuesday, and I haven’t bought a new mattress yet. Or even thought about replacing the couch.

So, it looks like I’ll have to stay at the cabin a little longer. Would the Rumseys let me stay until next weekend? That would give me enough time to clean my unit, get a new mattress delivered, and launder everything the intruder touched.

Do I apply for the bungalow and hope I find a way to break my lease? If I don’t apply, I’m sure someone else will snatch it up. But itwouldn’t be fair to apply only to bail if I need to stay at The Meadows.

Grrr.

The dad helping spin the merry-go-round slows it for the kids who want to get off, snapping me back to the playground. Matty jumps down and reaches for my hand. It helps soften the frustration grating at the edge of my thoughts.

I may only have Mateo, but he’s enough.

Though what about Everett? The thought catches me off guard.

You’d drive all the way out here for a kindling emergency?

I’d drive faster for a kissing emergency.

This should not make my heart pitter-patter in my chest. I’ve been safe inside the walls I built. They’ve sheltered me, protected me. But they’ve also kept everyone out.

“What should we bring to dinner with Everett and Logan?” I ask Matty when we get to the car.

“Watermelon,” he replies.

I laugh. “Okay. Anything else?”

He peers up at me with a mischievous grin. “Cookies?”

Once we’re at the store, I let Matty push the cart to the produce aisle. He picks out the biggest watermelon, then I grab fresh tarragon and fixings for a salad. After we sniff several of the bread options in the bakery, Mateo chooses the artisan potato loaf, then I steer us to the wine section. But when I arrive, it feels all wrong.Earth to Vivian!I can’t bring wine to dinner with a cop, not if I plan to drive afterwards. Not that Iwoulddrive if I’ve been drinking.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to settle my rampant thoughts.

Get. A. Grip.I can bring wine and not drink any.

Maybe bringing beer is better? And I’ll pick up some sparkling juice or nonalcoholic thing, too. I’m scanning the beer selection when another shopper stops behind me.

“Vivian?”

I whirl around. “Oh, hey Shawna.”

Her straight dark hair is loose about her pale face. At school, she usually has it pinned back in a twist. She’s traded her usual pencil skirt and pumps for a fitted t-shirt that reveals a stripe of her stomach, tight jeans, and cowboy boots.

“Mateo, this is Shawna. I work with her at the middle school on Tuesdays.”

She flashes Mateo a smile. “Hi, Mateo.”

“Hi,” he says in a meek voice.

Shawna gives my cart a scan. “Big plans tonight?”

“Just dinner with—” the word freezes on my tongue for a moment “—a friend.”

“Nice.”

---