Page 28 of Resurrection
He slaps a piece of paper onto my chest. I grab it before it falls to the floor, staring at it like it might explode.
"Seriously?" I argue. "Another ticket?"
"Be thankful that Pratt isn’t pressing charges."
I stand there, scrutinizing his back as he turns to leave, a mixture of anger and helplessness fighting it out inside me.
"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Adri?" I shout at him.
"Very much," he replies, glancing at me over his broad shoulder. His lips curl into a sarcastic smirk. "And you deserve it."
I watch him walk away, his long strides confident and unyielding. The paper crumples in my hand, a crutch for my frustration.
God, how I hate this town sometimes.
I stuff the ticket into the back pocket of my jeans and walk out of the building, where a few kids are shouting and laughing in the parking lot. The place is practically trembling inside and out from all the commotion.
I circle around back, looking for air, for space, for somewhere where my latest citation can be the only thing judging me.
Instead, I find Naomi.
She’s sitting on a frame of the raised garden bed, all perfect hair and imperfect mood. She leans forward, her elbows on her knees, and stares at the dust like she's expecting it to talk back. I think about sneaking off like a coward, leaving her to this strange silence between us. But no. I didn't get this far by playing it safe.
I step closer, my shadow breaking the afternoon sun over her. "Hey, how are you holding up? Is your wrist okay?"
She doesn't respond and doesn't look up. I clear my throat, and it sounds loud against the open sky. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to make all this fuss. I just saw him grabbing you and lost my cool."
That gets her attention. She glances up, looking surprised and skeptical, like she’s caught me stealing cookies and I'm denying it. Those big brown eyes I’ve never forgotten, lock onto mine. "What are you doing here, Ty?"
I rub the back of my neck, trying to come up with an answer that won’t make me sound like a complete idiot. "After yesterday, I thought…maybe we could try talking again." I take a deep breath, as if it’ll keep me from rambling. "I didn’t know where you live, so I stopped by your folks' place, and your mom said you'd be here."
Naomi narrows her eyes. "You could have just called."
"Would you have picked up?"
"Probably not." She almost smiles, almost lets me off the hook.
"Lachlan’s still a bully." More a statement than a question.
She nods. "Yep. Pratt hasn’t changed at all."
"I heard he’s divorced now?"
"No woman in her right mind would stay with him."
"I can see why."
"Ty, you don’t have to protect me from him. I can manage the guy."
Since the conversation seems to be flowing smoothly, I take it as a hint that it’s safe to sit down next to her.
I slide my hands into my jacket pockets, feeling the leftover tension from my confrontation with Adri. "Yeah, well. Old habits."
Silence ensues.
"It doesn’t seem like things have changed much since high school," I say with a chuckle.
She turns her head to me. Her expression softens but only a little. "Sometimes, it does seem like it." She glances at the ground. "And I wonder if I can erase the past seventeen years or just go back in time and do it again."
