Chapter Seven: Red Flags and Rearview Mirrors.
761 Words
The next morning hit harder than usual.
Maybe it was the sleep I didn’t get. Or the kiss I couldn’t forget.
Or maybe it was the red-and-blue lights flashing outside my house when I came downstairs.
Two police cruisers. One unmarked car. And my dad standing in the driveway, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I stepped out with my backpack.
He didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the street like he was waiting for something—or someone.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Just some new developments in the Miller case.”
My stomach sank.
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t need to. His next words were slow, deliberate.
“I need to ask you something, Lena. And I want the truth.”
I froze. “Okay…”
“You haven’t been talking to Jace Miller outside of school, have you?”
My mouth went dry.
Every part of me screamed to lie. To nod, say of course not, walk away.
But I knew the second I answered, he’d know. My dad had been a cop for twenty years. He could smell guilt like smoke in a closed room.
“I see him sometimes,” I said quietly. “Because of the project.”
His jaw tightened. “Anything outside of that?”
Silence.
“Lena.”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe. A little.”
“A little?” His voice was calm, but the storm underneath was building. “This is serious. His brother’s crew is being watched for a string of thefts and gang affiliations. You could get caught in the middle of something ugly.”
“He’s not like that,” I said too fast. “Not to me.”
“That’s not good enough,” he snapped. “You don’t know him, Lena. You know what he shows you.”
“He’s trying to be better.”
“And you think you’re going to fix him?” He exhaled hard, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re seventeen. This isn’t a movie.”
“I’m not trying to save him,” I said. “I just… don’t want to lose him.”
My dad looked at me for a long time, eyes unreadable. Then he said the worst thing of all.
“If I find out you’ve been lying again… I’ll bring him in myself.”
⸻
The rest of the day passed in a blur. My phone buzzed once during fourth period.
Jace: We need to talk. Can’t say much here. Meet me tonight.
I replied right away.
Me: Where?
Jace: The bridge. After 10. Come alone.
⸻
That night, the sky was thick with clouds. The bridge wasn’t far from my house—an old overpass where kids sometimes snuck off to drink or smoke. But tonight, it was empty except for him.
He stood by the edge, leaning over the railing, his face half-lit by the yellow streetlamp behind him.
“I think someone’s setting me up,” he said as I walked up. No hello. No smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Rico. Or someone close to him. They’re using my name. Planting stuff near the garage.” He turned toward me, voice low and tight. “If your dad finds it, I’m done.”
“Then let’s get rid of it.”
He shook his head. “Too late. They want me out. Either locked up or scared off.”
“Why?”
“Because I know too much. And I’m not playing along anymore.”
He paused.
“That’s why I needed to see you. If anything happens to me—if I disappear—you can’t tell anyone we were meeting. Not your dad. Not your friends. No one.”
I stepped closer. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious, Lena. This is bigger than you think.”
My voice cracked. “Then why are you dragging me into it?”
“Because you’re the only thing that makes me want to get out.”
The wind blew, carrying silence between us.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small chain—silver, with a tiny lightning bolt charm.
“I found it at a thrift shop,” he muttered. “Thought it looked like you.”
He placed it in my palm.
Then he leaned down and kissed me, slow and desperate, like he was afraid it might be the last time.
And maybe… it was.
- Writer
