Page 17 of Executing Malice
I lean down and press a kiss to her temple.
“I love you,” I tell her.
No response from her, but that’s okay. I’ll hear her say it back soon enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
LEILA
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It’s easy to lie when no one’s watching.
It’s easy to slip behind the cut-out version of yourself when everyone is too busy with their own lives.
In the handful of years I have memories of, I have perfected the art of fitting in. Blending with everyone else. Pretending I’m not missing whole parts of myself.
It’s weird missing something and not knowing what. The imbalance never fails to make my heart thump a little faster with anxiety. A restless patter akin to heartbeat.
But I can’t fix it. I don’t know how. I can only hope the person I seem to be missing, the person responsible for the ache in my chest will find me and put me back together.
For now, I kick open my car door and slip out into the crisp October morning. My simple, black flats scuff on the loose gravel making up the back parking area behind the bank. The change in scenery takes my brain a second to process.
I’m not hiding.
This is my town and I’m not letting some hulking man in a leather jacket and a motorcycle run meoff, but I am curious what he would do if I don’t show up to my regular spot out front. Would he leave? Would he come into the bank to check?
There’s a good chance he might actually not be there for me at all and I’m acting a fool, but the little thrill I get at possibly throwing him off brings a grin to my face as I fist my keys and start in the direction of the back door.
The morning breeze tugs at the hem of my skirt and scuttles up my naked legs. It’s a subtle reminder I might have to unearth my fall clothes from the basement. We probably have a handful of good days before winter hits.
Maybe it’s the cold snap coming off the lake, or maybe that’s just a fact of life in Canada, but winter comes quick. I should start getting ready.
I make a mental note to swap my closet this weekend once Jasmine returns. After the autumn festival.
Thoughts of the approaching event has my mind slipping to the previous night and the bloody candy apple on my porch. I contemplate calling Kimmy and asking her to talk to her kids but let it go.
They’re just kids. Despite the orderly and seemingly outdated traditions, Jefferson does get news from the outside world. We have all the social media apps. Kids have full access to the newest trends and news. It may be heavily monitored and discouraged to post negative behavior or anything that may lookbad on the community, but kids know about Halloween. They know it’s a day for fun and mischief. It’s normal to want to be like other children. A candy apple with a little fake blood isn’t the end of the world.
Logged in and paperwork complete, I pad to the glass doors and pause.
He’s already there.
A dark, hulk of a shadow out of place next to the grinning Jack o’ lanterns. His face remains shielded by the glossy helmet, big hands encased in gloves. His long body leans against the beast parked at the curb, unbothered by the flow of traffic moving around him.
Everything about him is so animalistic. So raw and beautiful. Even my brain doesn’t care that I haven’t seen his face. It’s in full agreement with my heart that he is delicious. Even his voice — while muffled by the confining box on his head — had been deep and rich.
Or maybe I read too much. Maybe I need to stop...
His head lifts and tilts in my direction like he can sense my stare, and every neuron in my body backfires. My brain fizzles out and I jolt. My entire body spasms as if I’ve been butt poked by a cattle prod and I scramble.
I run, slippers sliding on marble and throw myself behind the counter.
No grace.
Not a single shred of elegance.
I bolt like a spooked rabbit, and I know he saw it. With a full wall of glass looking directly over the entire space, no way he missed it.
