Page 37 of Splintered Memories
Amosletoutalow whistle as his eyes scanned my studio.
“Wow,” he said, beaming and placing his hands on his hips. “You’ve really built something for yourself, haven’t you?”
A smile pulled at the side of my mouth, taking in my little slice of peace and comfort. The place that had been a refuge for so many years.
Amos approached the file cabinets on the opposite side of my filming set. I was collecting them, it seemed, though that hadn’t been the plan when I’d first started. My uncle tilted his head, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
I joined him, scanning the small white labels that had the names of different cases written on them. “I make a lot of hard copies while I’m researching a case,” I explained. “I know it would probably be easier and more ethical to keep everything digital, but…I just need paper.” I pressed a palm against a black cabinet. “I like feeling it in my hands. It helps me work better.”
Amos raised his brows, his attention going to those white labels. Some of the cases took up multiple drawers. The Shadow Stalker was currently taking up a whole cabinet by itself.
“Why not recycle the paper when you’re finished?”
I’d thought about that. I’d planned to do that in the beginning, but I’d quickly changed my mind.
“You never know when something won’t be there anymore.” I turned to Amos. “Everyone says the internet is forever, and maybe that’s partly true, but sometimes information gets deleted and you can never get it back. I also have copies of police reports that may or may not be in the public record.” I gave him a sheepish look. I’d gotten friendly with the local police department years ago. Brandon Whize—Detective Whize now—had long been a friend of mine. He trusted me with certain information. “I decided I wanted to keep all my notes and documents on the cases I’ve covered.” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m a bit paranoid.”
Amos chuckled. “Maybe.” His eyes bounced to the file cabinets. “This is really impressive.”
“Not really.” I waved a hand.
He gave me a hard stare, like he knew I was being stubborn. “It is. Accept the compliment. I’m proud of you, Emy.”
My heart swelled to the point I feared it would burst. I didn’t know whether Amos understood how much those simple words meant to me, but I hoped he did. I’d never heard them from anyone else.
I turned on my heel before that emotion threatening to clog my throat got any farther. “Anyway,” I cleared my throat and crossed to the cardboard boxes sitting in a neat row near the door, “I’ve already loaded the shade tent, but I need help carrying these.”
Amos nodded, and we got right to work.
I’d recovered fully from that awful stomach virus within a few days. The rest of the week and a half was spent finishing preparing for the Emberlight Festival. Amos graciously offered to help me transport all my supplies and assist me in setting up before he had to go back to the cafe, which was always busy on festival day.
It was early, but August had already left to prepare his team for the day, which was another reason why Amos was here: to make sure I got to the festival safely.
I hadn’t realized exactly how much went into the logistics of managing the safety of one person at such a public and crowded event. Since I’d gotten sick, and seen the toll this whole situation was taking on my brother, I’d decided to take my safety more seriously.
Which meant I was willing to workwithAugust, instead of ignoring and resenting him. I’d let him give me small, short lessons on self-defense and how to be on alert for danger when out in public. I started carrying a small canister of mace with me whenever I left the house.
I’d considered canceling my booth today. August had been right; it was dangerous and unnecessary. Yet, the thought of not doing it had something inside me withering. I loved connecting with the people who made my job possible. I loved giving back to those who watched my podcast and helped spread the word about lesser-known cases.
In the end, it had been August who’d convinced me to continue running my booth. He had spent so much time making plans for ensuring my safety today. I’d had to admit, the way he’d assembled a whole team and coordinated with the event staff to make sure they could keep everyone safe was impressive.
Luckily—and maybe it had less to do with luck and more to do with all that hard work and planning—but the festival started out perfectly smooth.
Amos and I had gotten my booth set up, and when he’d left to manage the cafe, Lark showed up to help me with the merchandise while I spoke with the people who stopped by.
August was close by, too. He wasn’t standing under the tent with Lark and me, but rather outside of it, arms folded across his chest as his eyes scanned the space, on alert for anything suspicious. It was strange seeing him like that. I’d gotten so used to his casual demeanor that seeing him look like an actual bodyguard was slightly unsettling. Or maybe it was the way my stomach reacted to those strong muscles straining against the tight shirt he wore…
“You’re staring again,” Lark muttered in my ear. A sly smile curled her lips.
I jumped and pulled my gaze away from August. “I’m not staring at anything,” I bit back, returning my focus to the line of people who had come to support me.
I wasn’t sure what had changed the last couple of weeks, but the strong dislike I’d forced upon August was slowly ebbing away. As much as I found him infuriating at times, he had given something the day he’d taken care of me when I was sick. He had given me a kindness that I didn’t take for granted. Whenever I looked at August now, I saw more and more good things.
What was really good about him, in particular, was that he was extremely nice to look at. I might’ve been indulging in a few more stolen glances than I should’ve been lately. If August had noticed, he hadn’t said a word.
“Are you sure you don’t mind helping me out the whole time?” I asked Lark as I returned from my line to steal a few gulps of water from my water bottle.
Lark waved a dismissive hand. “Of course. Mom and Jojo are totally fine running the Flutter Nook booth.”
