Page 81 of Red Flag, Green Light

Mars is here, and he’s making the worldsafewith his presence. He’s scattering this town with childlike wonder and my favorite flowers.

Mouth dry as Sweet & Salty, a local bakery I’ve never been to, comes into view, I say, “Am…I a project?”

His head lifts, eyes wide on me. “You?”

“Because of that whole…terrified to leave my house thing. You woke up one morning and said,Ah yes, today I’ll try my hand at curing agoraphobia.”

His jaw locks, and he catches my arm, stopping me in front of a candy store. “I woke up one morning and said,Stop being a—” He swears. “—wuss, Mars. Walk into that woman’s house and tell her you love her.And then, as you know, I was still a—” He repeats the swear. “—wuss anyway. You’re not a project. You’re the woman I’m going to marry. And as the woman I’m going to marry, you deserve everything. Including the luxury of never, ever, needing to be afraid.” He squeezes my hand. “I don’t care if your agoraphobia gets ‘cured’ or not, Ceres. I care to become a person you are unsettled to live without. I want to create such a level of peace for you that you can’t even bear to be without me in your own home.Thatis what I’m after. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Nothing more?” I ask.

“Is there something more than your full physical and emotional dependency on me? If so, my apologies. I misspoke. I want that, too.”

Leaning in, I kiss his cheek, then we continue the rest of the way to Sweet & Salty, hand-in-hand.

The second the bell on the door chimes, the calm moment between us shatters.

“Iordereda blueberry scone!” an old man roars at the woman behind the counter, whose nametag seems to say Vivian.

“And I’ve told you,” Vivian remarks, “we are out of blueberry scones for today, Mr. Ferris.”

“It’s one in the afternoon. You havehoursbefore you close. You shoulddo your jobandmake another batch,” Mr. Ferris growls. “I’ll put this whole place under with one scathing review. I have a reputation in this town. People listen to the Ferrises.”

Vivian’s eyes roll toward the ceiling. “We can’t make another batch this late in the day. We bake in the morning, and when we sell out, we sell out. You should have come earlier.”

The man sputters, slamming his hand on the counter as I slip from Mars’s side. “I couldn’t help but overhear that there was a blueberry scone shortage today?”

Vivian’s eyes cut to me, then behind me, and widen when they land on me again.

“Stay out of this!” Mr. Ferris snaps.

I smile. “I’d be happy to make some blueberry scones this afternoon and share them with you.”

Mr. Ferris sneers. “I don’t need your patronizing, lady. This woman will do her job, or I’ll destroy her business.”

I droop. “But…if you do that, there’s no chance of blueberry sconesanyday.”

This ancient man shifts his full weight to me in order to hover, threateningly, an inch above me. “If you know what’sgood for you, you’ll shut your mouth.”

“I appreciate the service industry too much to shut my mouth, sir. If you won’t calm down for civility’s sake, do it for the blueberry scones in your future.”

“Or,” Mars notes, behind me, casually, “do it so I won’t kill you right where you stand.”

Mars cuts in front of me, drawing Mr. Ferris’s eyes and separating me from the formaldehyde scent of a man already halfway in the grave.

“You,” Mr. Ferris hisses. “I have a lawsuit ready for your brother. He destroyed my truck.”

Mars tosses a card and catches it atop his stack. “You don’t say?” he asks, conversational. “Where’s the proof?”

“I have footage.”

“Do you?” Mars flicks his gaze up. “Are yousure?”

Mr. Ferris sputters. “Y-yes, of course I’m sure. It’s about time this town steps up and puts you and your rotten brother where you both belong—behind bars.”

“Are you aware how long legal processes take, Mr. Ferris?” Mars steps closer, towering a mild two inches above the man. “Days…weeks…months…years, usually. I wonder what I could do to you within the span of a fewyears.” His cards snap together. “Walk away with your life…and check on that footage, why don’t you? I’m real curious…if it still exists.”

Mr. Ferris clenches his fists at his sides and plows past Mars, opening his mouth in front of me.

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