Callie
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed faintly overhead, too bright, compared to the lake’s shadows and secrets the day before. I pushed the cart slowly, pretending to scan shelves, though my mind was still caught in the heat of Grayson’s touch—the weight of his hands on my hips, the way his voice had whispered mine into my ear.
But here, among baskets of apples and the chatter of ordinary people, it all felt fragile.
The squeak of the cart wheels grated against my nerves, each turn down the aisle was too normal. The steady beeping of registers at the front reminded me how quickly yesterday’s fire could turn into today’s scandal if the wrong eyes noticed. I caught sight of Mrs. Dalton, the woman who lived two streets over, pretending to compare cereal boxes while he
