Dirty Secrets

A Chance

A minor celebrity on the island, some TV actress who was raised on Palmira and often returned for charitable events, made the sand sculpture contest winner announcement.

Most of the local guys were staring at her and hooting, because she was that good-looking. I couldn't place her name, didn't know what shows she'd been in, and I didn't care. I was miserable. This morning had been awful, partly because of Jess's outburst, partly because I'd read a new online news article while on my phone.

Arrest Imminent in Recruitment Center Arson

Anonymous police sources had told the paper authorities had a suspect and were close to finding the person. Which meant...what? They were knocking on my father's door? Coming to Palmira? I stood in the crowd, searching each face, half expecting to be arrested at any minute.

Jessica's caustic words hadn't helped. Our fight had sent me spiraling into old patterns of shame and self-doubt. So, why was I even here, at the stupid sand-sculpting contest? I'd never felt so foolish or out of place.

The attention from a win wouldn't help the bakery that much, especially not after my arrest, so I should have been back at the shop making sure things were going okay, wrapping up the renovations so I could make the long drive north to New Orleans. It was time to face whatever consequences awaited. If they didn't find me before I could finish the bakery, I was going to turn myself in.

My mind was made up.

Of course, standing on the beach and listening to the local dignitaries talk about how beautiful all the sculptures were, all I felt like doing was fleeing. My desire to run from this conflict felt ridiculous, since I'd been brave enough during war. At least, that's what all my superiors said. The day of the IED attack, when I dragged Steve's limp body out of the Humvee, I'd ignored my own pain and injury. I hadn't wanted to run away from what was needed that day or any day previous.

But now, I wanted to avoid everything and everyone.

My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on a familiar face: Jessica. She was staring at me, doe-eyed, imploring. And she was moving toward me.

I watched as she wove her way past several people. She looked stunned, still, as she had back at the hotel. When she reached me, I her silently took her hand and squeezed,  ignoring how my chest tightened with panic.

Up on stage, the presenter squealed. "And the winner is...Leo Villeneuve from Sugar Rush Bakery! He did the beautiful sculpture of a mermaid. Everyone should check it out."

I mustered a small smile as Jessica grabbed me. Hugged me. It was hard not to feel a rush of pleasure at any contact of our bodies.

"You deserve this," she whispered, and I could see in her eyes she meant it. "Congratulations."

She kissed me on the cheek, and my skin tingled. Her physical presence was as potent as ever, but I had to acknowledge our relationship would never recover. What was the point? I was about to go to prison, and she thought I was a piece of shit on top of that.