stares at them. “No one believed me. You never believe me.”
George’s wife nudges him back, whispering something in his ear to placate him.
Jack claps Gage’s shoulder. “Let’s do this.”
I follow Gage’s pressure as he leads us toward town hall, where the yellow-breasted construction workers are taping off a large perimeter around the building. We smash through the woods, tearing down the tape as people line up, their backs against trees. The workers stop what they’re doing to watch the rabble of angry Fair Oaks citizens forming a human shield.
One of them removes his hard hat and approaches Gage. “Sir, you have to move. This area is scheduled for demolition tomorrow.”
“Over my dead body,” he grinds out.
The construction worker takes one look at the dozens of people lined up around the hall and lets out a frustrated sigh. “You have until eight a.m. tomorrow to leave or we’ll have to call the police.”
Trudy breaks from the line to jab her cane in the man’s foot. “Go fuck yourself!”
“Ow! Jesus. I’m just doing my job!”
I almost feel sorry for the guy as everybody hurls vicious insults and threats, even Pierce, who can barely stand without his legs trembling. Eventually, the worker seems to think standing up to everyone isn’t worth his time, and he slinks off. There’s a brief cheer down the line, but I can’t help but feel hopeless. In the morning, the Cranburys will show up with a squad of police cars to pack us up.
“Wait here,” Gage says suddenly. “I’m going to get my tent.”
“We’re sleeping out here?” I rub my hands together against the chill.
“Yeah.” He kisses my cheek. “Be back soon.”
It only takes him fifteen minutes to return with a huge box. The canvas spills out of it, along with a half dozen metal poles. I look around, watching everyone else doing the same. Then I suck my bottom lip and bite hard.
It’s not enough to hold them off.
There are plenty of people to protect town hall, sure, but it leaves virtually no protection for all the houses, the businesses. Everything.
Anxious to do something, I slip my phone out of my pocket and I type an email, attaching every housing crisis project in San Francisco. Then I forward it to the San Francisco Chronicle, taking whatever measly photographs I can of the bulldozers with my dying phone, and I send that off as well.
“Olivia.”
A green and orange tent stands behind me, the flap half-open. Gage is already inside, unrolling two plush sleeping bags. I step inside carefully, shaking my sneakers free of dirt before zipping the tent shut. The noise from outside is still clear as a bell, but we might as well be in a soundproof room together from the look Gage sends me.
His shoes are off. He lays on one elbow in a catlike sprawl, and I realize I haven’t been alone with him in over a week. I crawl to him, desperate to feel his arms wrapped around me. Then finally his calm expression breaks.
“You drove me fucking crazy.”
“I know. I didn’t mean anything I said. All of it was just so that you’d hate me. A—and I’m so sorry I put you through that.” My eyes boil over, and I dig my fingers into the back of his head, apologizing over and over. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Then I kiss his stony cheek. “I missed you so much.”
My lips touch his as they break with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“I was thinking all kinds of things while you were gone. Wondering what the fuck you were doing with him in that house.”
“Playing Monopoly.”
He freezes. “Is that a euphemism?”
I make a sound of disgust. “We were playing the board game. With his mom and everything. And yes, it was a freak show.”
“Monopoly.” He pauses to contemplate the horror. “I would’ve lost my damn mind.”
“Gage,” I whisper against him. “I haven’t had you in a week.”
Strong arms lift me so that I’m straddling his waist. A resolute thud pounds against my chest as his brilliant blues shine beneath half-closed lids. His rough jaw scrapes against mine as burning lips touch me. “You’re the one who left.”
“I never really left.”
“You know how many times I touched myself while you were gone? I kept thinking about you even when I didn’t want to. Kept imagining your lips wrapped around me.”
Every word heightens the demand for pleasure I’ve been fighting to keep at bay all week. “I wanted you, too.”