I have a feeling he probably still hasn’t learned that lesson. His red hair has prematurely thinned, creating a bald spot on the top of his head. His stomach bears evidence of years of drinking beer, his overall unkempt state giving the impression he’s not married. A fact I confirm when I notice his barren ring finger.
Then again, I’m not one to talk. I’ve never been married, either.
“Can I help you?”
“I said… So it’s true.”
“What’s true?” I ask firmly, widening my stance and crossing my arms.
He licks his lips, stealing a glimpse at Londyn. Instinct kicks in and I step in front of her, blocking her. Not out of shame or embarrassment, but to protect her from whatever Grady wants, why he felt the need to approach me when we haven’t spoken in ages.
Even when I spent my summers here, I was never exactly friendly with Grady. He was, as my Gampy called it, bad news. The whole family routinely got into trouble and were frequent visitors to the local jail. It wouldn’t come as a shock to learn Grady followed in his father’s footsteps and has made a career out of stealing to make a buck instead of earning one the honest way.
“That you turned out like your grandfather.” His lip curls as he peers over my shoulder, sneering at Londyn in disgust.
I’ve never understood how someone could hate another person based on their appearance, something they have no control over. It’s why I never understood my parents all that much. Their entire existence revolved around judging people. If you didn’t wear the right clothes, didn’t get invited to the right events, didn’t have the right friends, you were too insignificant for them to waste their time on. I still don’t know how two people as loving and generous as my grandparents could raise someone as spiteful and judgmental as my mother. Then again, as Meemaw often told me, some people lose sight of who they are when money’s involved.
Grady pushes up his shirt sleeves, revealing what appears to be a rudimentary tattoo in the shape of a swastika on his right arm, which he probably got in prison.
Great.
“That you turned into a nigger-lover, too.”
Suddenly, everything falls quiet. I no longer hear the dinging from the carnival games. Or the constant chatter of people lining up for food. Or the motors on the nearby rides. It’s like I’m in a tunnel. Just me, Grady, and my anger at the derogatory word, one I can’t even stomach to repeat.
Oblivious to the crowd growing around us, I reel back, looking forward to the feel of Grady’s flesh meeting my fist. But I’m stopped mere inches shy of his chin, a strong pull on my elbow preventing me from making contact.
“Stop,” Londyn orders, jumping between us. Her voice is firm, lips pinched into a tight line, eyes pleading with me not to do this.
“But—”
“No. It’s what he wants, Wes. I’ve dealt with people like him all my life.” She shoots a spiteful look in Grady’s direction. “Small-minded pricks who only stand for something easy, like hate. Don’t stoop to his level. You’re too good a person to do that.”
My gaze floats between Grady and Londyn, then to the assembled crowd. But that’s not what causes me to reconsider. It’s the expression of fear on little Imogene’s face as she peeks out from behind her mother. My heart squeezes that she had to see this. That she had to witness hate, something no child should ever have to experience.
I briefly close my eyes in resignation, lowering my fist. “Okay.”
“Pansy,” Grady remarks under his breath as I retreat.
Stopping abruptly, I advance toward him, wiping the cocky, self-satisfied smirk off his face in one swift motion. I get nose-to-nose with him, nostrils flaring, jaw tense.
“Make no mistake, Grady,” I snarl. “If you come near her or the rest of my family, I won’t hesitate to destroy you.”
“Are you threatening me?” he guffaws, a few of his friends from back in the day assembling around him. I didn’t like them then. And I don’t like them now. But I’m no longer the scrawny, awkward teenager he remembers me to be. I’m a man with enough resources at my disposal to make their lives extremely difficult. And enough physical strength to easily overpower them if circumstances require.
“Not a threat.” I adjust my posture, holding my head high, an air of authority about me. “A promise. And when I make a promise, I keep it. So if I