Page 111 of Ghosts Don't Cry

I try not to let it get to me, and focus on the list of essentials I need to buy.

Bread. Coffee. Enough food to eat for at least a couple of days. Each item is a reminder that life goes on, even when everything else is falling apart.

“Well.” Beverly Walsh’s voice cuts through the quiet. “I didn’t expect to seeyoushowing your face in public.”

My stomach drops, but I don’t turn around.

“I must say.” Her tone drips with artificial concern. “Getting caught up withhimagain seems particularly unwise, given your job role.”

The threat isn’t even subtle. I will my hand not to shake as I reach for a carton of milk, and tell myself not to respond to her. That’s what she wants. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

“The school board takes the behavior of our teachers very seriously.” Each word is a carefully aimed arrow. “Especiallythose who are working with impressionable young minds.”

“Did you practice that speech in front of your mirror, Beverly?” Okay, so apparently I’m not going to stay quiet after all. “Or does your self-righteousness come without any effort at all?”

She clicks her tongue. “Such hostility. Although, I suppose that’s to be expected, given your associations.”

I whirl to face her, rage burning through any self-control I had. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.Orhim.”

“No?” Her smile is sharp. “I know enough to question whether someone who encourages violence in broad daylight should be trusted around children.”

“That isn’t what happened, and you know it.”

“Do I?” One perfectly sculpted eyebrow rises. “The entire town witnessed what happened outside Wilson’s. Just as they saw your little … display outside the cocktail bar.” Her lips curve into a cruel smile. “Tell me, Ms. Gladwin, what are you teaching those children about consequences, judgment and morality?”

The tenuous grip I have on my temper shatters.

“You really want to talk about morality? Okay. Why don’t we talk about how you’ve spent years deciding who deserves redemption in this town? Or the way you weaponize your position on the school board? In fact, why are you even on it? You don’t have any kids of school age anymore. There is no reason at all for you to be present there.” I wave a hand when her lips part. “Don’t bother answering me. I know the answer. You enjoy destroying lives because it feeds your God complex.”

Color stains her cheeks, creeping up from her collar. “Iprotectour community.”

I snort. “You protect nothing but your own ego.” All the anger and pain I’ve bottled up for years comes pouring out. My voice rises, carrying along the aisle. “Where was your protection when he was seventeen and homeless? When he was sleeping in abandoned buildings? When he was starving? You didn’t give a fuck about protecting anyone then. You only cared about appearances. Just like now.”

“How dare you!”

“No! How dareyou.” I’m shaking, adrenaline coursing through me. “You stand there in your thousand-dollar shoes, passing judgment on people’s lives when you’ve never known what it means to go hungry or cold. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to lose someone who’s drowning, or to watch how this town’s selective morality destroys the people who need the most help.”

Beverly’s mouth opens, but before she can speak another voice cuts in.

“Is there a problem here?”

Ronan.

I was so focused on Beverly, I didn’t hear him approach. But here he is, standing to one side of us, radiating barely concealed violence. Beverly’s eyes narrow.

“Well.” Her lips thin. “I suppose this proves my point about your judgment.”

I whirl around, needing to escape, needing to get away from her and the air that’s been poisoned by her sanctimonious bullshit. I walk away.

“Lily.” Ronan’s voice follows me as I hurry down the aisle. “Wait.”

I ignore him, abandoning my basket on the nearest shelf, and keep moving until I’m outside. I reach my car before he catches up with me, but I don’t get the key in the lock fast enough. His fingers close around my arm, and he spins me to face him.

“Get off me!”

“No.” His grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go. “Not this time.”

“Haven’t you done enough damage?” I wrench my arm free, skin burning where he touched me. “Or did you come to watch the fallout and see how thoroughly you can destroy my life in real time?”