Page 15 of Wanted You More

Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling into some plaza that has a ton of people gathered in the parking lot. Across the street is a big building that looks like it has a sign saying City Hall, and my heart jumps a little.

My brows pinch when I try to see the stuff the people are holding, but their backs are to us. All I can see are a lot of big, bold red letters on the posters and angry expressions on their faces.

“Hey,” I say hesitantly, turning toward the southern belle. “Are we in the right place? This looks like a protest.”

I’ve only seen a few in real life. Mostly a small group of people holding up pro-life signs at the local Planned Parenthood. I felt bad for the women walking in and out of the building getting yelled at by the crowd.

Lyn finds a parking spot at the end of the lot and puts the Escalade in park. “We’re in the right place,” she tells me. Turning to me, she offers a sheepish smile. “Look, don’t hate me. You seem cool, but we had to get you here somehow. Daddy said it would help the cause.”

What cause?“What are you talking about, Lyn?”

Lyn turns the car off. “I know that your mother isn’t alive, so you can stop pretending with me. I’m really sorry, Austen. I am. What happened to you and your family, to all those families at the park, was horrible. My cousin died from gun violence, and a friend of a friend was part of a college shooting that happened years ago. There needs to be more legislation passed. You can make sure other mothers aren’t taken from their families like yours was taken away from you and your little brother.”

I pale, realizing what’s happening. “You knew who I was this whole time.” And here I thought I’d made a friend. Typical. “This is a new low from people like you. I’m not participating in whatever this is.”

“This,” she cuts in, grabbing my arm and squeezing once, “is a rally for gun control put together by CSGV—The Coalition to Stop Gun Violence. I know the organization has been reaching out trying to get you to come to one of our events, but your dad would never let us speak to you. You’re just as much a victim with an opinion as he is. So, we came to you when we heard our upstate chapter was coming to city hall.”

Whipping my arm out of her grip, I shoot her a glare and unbuckle. “I can’t believe you did this. I don’t want to be part of this! The past is meant to stay there. Haven’t we been put through enough without you blasting my story everywhere?”

“You’re in denial,” she calls out when I bolt from her car. She follows me, speed walking until she catches up to me. “Nothing is going to change unless we make it change. Having someone like you as a spokesperson—”

“No.”

“Austen—”

“You think you’re helping,” I spit, stopping to face her. “You’re not doing anything but hurting. The people who survived that day are constantly reminded of what they lost. It wasn’t just actual lives lost, Lynly. It was peace of mind. None of us want to keep reliving that day, and organizations like this one are a constant reminder of it. So, stop acting like you’re doing God’s work when you’re playing Lucifer’s hand.”

She starts to shake her head, but I hold up my hand to stop her. “I’m walking away now, and you’re not going to follow me. I swear to God if you do…”

Well, I won’t do anything.

If I threaten her, I’ll be part of the problem. So, I do what Dad always told me in situations like this. I pull my phone out, hit the first name I can think of without hesitating, and wait for him to pick up. “Noah? I need you to pick me up.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Noah’s shiny maroonpickup pulls up beside me, where I’m sitting on the curb in front of the frozen yogurt shop. I’ve got a small cup of plain vanilla froyo and an array of toppings that I wasn’t paying much attention to as I dumped them inside.

After climbing in, I hand him the sweet treat. The boy in the black Henley stares at it for a second before setting it down on the console and asking, “Are you okay?”

I focus solely on buckling in. “Yeah.” It doesn’t sound convincing, even to my ears. Blowing out a troubled breath, I lean back in the seat and watch him pick out a red gummy worm from the cup. “I thought I’d made a friend.”

He pulls onto the road after passing me the yogurt again. “You have friends,” he notes.

I’m picking at one of the sour gummies when I give him a once-over. He looks different. Cleaner. His shirt fits snugly against his upper arms and narrows around his lean torso. Usually, his shirts are baggier from all the wear and tear they see over the years. I’m pretty sure some of his plaid button-downs are his father’s that he took when Elizabeth made Ben buy new ones. And is he wearing cologne?

“Is that a new shirt?”

Noah repositions in the seat, tugging at the neckline. “Yeah, it is. Why?”

My eyes narrow. “You hate shopping. That’s why. You look different today.”

For a second, he’s quiet. “I was supposed to go on a date today. Then you called, so I canceled and came here instead.”

There’s a tiny pang of guilt in my stomach over the news. He takes on a lot of shifts at the station when he isn’t in class, so I know his free time is limited. “I didn’t mean to mess up your plans today.”

I hear the steep inhale from him before he lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

His voice sounds off, so I don’t know if I believe him. “Have you been seeing her for a while? What’s her name?”

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