“Your name is a protein bar,” Salem snaps, then throws. Her bag hits the board and slides right off. She stares at it like it betrayed her personally.
Brock howls with laughter. Shepherd laughs too, quieter, like he’s enjoying her attitude.
I lean in toward Salem, voice low. “Bend your knees.”
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t you dare ‘bend your knees’ me. That’s skateboard talk.”
“It’s… body mechanics,” I insist.
“It’s condescending,” she counters.
I smirk. “It’s accurate.”
She throws me a look, then tries again. This time the bag lands on the board and stops. Not in the hole—but close. Salem lifts her chin like she won the Olympics. “Ha.”
Brock claps mockingly. “Great job, champ.”
Salem flips him off.
Shepherd laughs. “I like her.”
“Everyone likes her,” Brock says, eyes flicking to me with a grin like he’s already decided something. “You two visiting?”
“Something like that,” I answer smoothly, same line as earlier.
Brock doesn’t push. He just nods like he gets the vibe. Like small towns know how to mind their business when the energy saysdon’t ask.
The game continues.
Brock and Shepherd are clearly a practiced team. They’re consistent, annoying, and way too entertained by how invested Salem gets. Salem, meanwhile, is fueled by spite and cider.
I’m fueled by the desire to impress her and the fact that I hate losing. At one point I manage a clean hole shot and Salem actually squeals, grabbing my arm.
“Yes!” she shouts. “Okay, Ozzy!”
Brock groans. “Ugh, romance.”
Shepherd smirks. “Let them have it.”
Two women enter the patio. One with long, wavy brown hair. She heads straight toward Brock and wraps her arms aroundhim. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her in. He kisses her temple like he’s done it a thousand times before.
“This is my wife, Willow.”
She smiles brightly at us. “Hope he’s not being an obnoxious winner.”
He laughs. He tugs her closer. “Winner being the operative word.”
The other woman wraps her arms around Shepherd, and they share an intimate moment. It makes me long for something like that with Salem. To be able to hold her in my arms and not care what the world thinks. Shepherd introduces his wife, Felicity. I can see the love shining between them, and seriously… I fucking want that.
Salem beams at me, eyes bright, and for a few seconds I almost forget we’re hiding. I almost forget the world. Then it hits.
The feeling. I’m frozen as instinct prickles at the back of my neck. That feeling of being followed. Watched. Like someone is there.
My smile fades. I don’t move abruptly. I keep my posture relaxed. I keep my face calm. But my attention shifts.
I scan the lot, looking for anything out of place. Anything that isn’t supposed to be there. Hell, I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I know something feels off. The laughter around us is still normal. The patio is still warm. The string lights still glow.
And yet— I feel watched.