Page 86 of Rest In Pieces
She’s trying to kill me, but damn, what a way to go.
22
AMITY
Ipark the RV and lean back with a sigh. The campground’s deserted, and the call of nature pulls me in. I change into my running gear and leave a note for Nevaeh.
I head out on one of my favorite trails, not bothering with music; I just want to soak in the peace and recharge as my social battery is running low.
I run until my watch beeps at the five-mile mark, then loop around to head back to the RV. I slow down when I see a family coming my way, with two kids on bikes trying desperately to keep them upright.
“Thanks,” the woman smiles as I move aside. “Excuse me, do you live here or are you just visiting? We’re here for the next few days, and I’m not sure what to see or do.”
“I’m staying here temporarily. I know there are some good hiking trails, and the diner’s amazing—the food is so good. I sawa flyer there the other day about a ghost tour, but I didn’t stop to check it out.”
“Oh, that sounds fun, right, Bill?”
Bill, who I assume is her husband, rolls his eyes. “Yes, dear.”
She elbows him in the stomach.
“Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy because someone broke his camping chair last night and stole his beer.”
“We left the city to get away from asshole kids, but it seems they’re everywhere,” he grumbles.
The wife shakes her head. “He’s a high school principal, and believe it or not, he loves his job, well, most of the time anyway.”
I laugh, holding my hands up. “No judgment here.” I look behind me to make sure their kids are out of earshot. “Honestly, I think most kids are assholes.”
“See? She gets it,” he says, pointing at me, and I laugh some more. “Anyway, don’t listen to us. You should finish your run before it gets dark.”
I nod, smiling, thinking he’s probably a really good principal despite everything. It’s hard caring for people who don’t seem to have an ounce of sense; I can only imagine it’s a million times worse when those people are a bunch of teenagers.
I wave goodbye to them and jog back to the RV, spotting Nevaeh’s car when I get there. I open the door and catch the water bottle that’s flying toward my head.
“Nice reflexes.”
“Thanks, keeps me from being knocked unconscious,” I say, twisting off the cap and gulping it down.
I watch as Nevaeh puts the groceries away, knowing better than to offer to help. She’s seriously anal about where things go and how each label should be facing forward. Looks like my man and my bestie have that in common. The other night, I tried to help G by putting away some of his things, and he lost it. He toldme he has a system, and I couldn’t help but laugh as he went around fixing what I’d done.
I sigh and collapse into the nearest chair.
“What’s up? Everything okay on set?”
“Monica’s stalker struck again. She found another letter in her trailer. She was pretty freaked out when I left.”
“I bet. That’s why I use a pen name when I write. I’m not saying I’m as popular as her or anything, but I know being in the public eye definitely brings out the crazies.”
I bite my lip and look away, not wanting her to see how I feel. But she’s known me too long to know I’m hiding something.
“Amity…” she draws my name out.
I sigh and look back at her. “I’m jealous, okay? And I feel like a bitch because of it. I know G and I are new, but I trust him. It’s just that I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here, and the more time he spends with Monica, the less he spends with me. Ugh, I’m a horrible person.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just being honest about how you feel. You like G—probably more than you thought you would. You took a chance when I know your instinct was to run, and I think it was the right move. He’s good for you. I’ve seen how he looks at Monica, and it’s the same way he looks at anyone else he talks to on set.
“Everyone else, that is, except you. I swear, when he looks at you, it’s like the rest of us disappear. Trust me, he hates being away from you as much as you do.”