Travis (Pelion Lake) - Mia Sheridan Page 0,97

should hold lotteries to win people like her. She cares for people, and even things, deeply and we don’t deserve her because no one does.” I glanced around quickly. “Easton Torres has made mistakes. But so have I.” I squinted, clearing my throat again. “I, of all people, have no right to pass judgment on others. I’ve done things to ruin lives. I’ve acted in ways some might judge irredeemable.” I paused, gathering what little courage it felt like I had left. “And the further truth—and a fact that wasn’t included on that list—is that Easton acted as a hero when he saved his sister’s life and for that, I will spend the rest of mine grateful to him. As an act of contrition, and of public apology for my part in what happened at the first town meeting, I’ve compiled a list, of every immoral, shameful, in a few regrettable instances, sacrilegious, and . . . well, in some cases downright illegal things I’ve ever done. Because I can’t make excuses for Easton Torres, nor for myself, but I can join him. And that’s what I’m here to do. I’m here to join him.”

I dared a glance at Moira Cormier in the front row, who ran the pet grooming shop in downtown Pelion. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open as she scanned one page, flipping to the next. “There are some doozies in there. As you’ll see, names and specific dates are redacted to protect the privacy of the individuals involved.” I swallowed. The murmurs rose again, this time not only in volume, but in intensity. My face felt hot, muscles achy with tension. I didn’t want these people to know these things.

“Er, I realize . . . well, I realize that some of these items might make you consider a chief of police recall. I wouldn’t blame you. I’m prepared for that if you all deem it in the best interest of the town,” I finished. I felt scared, miserable, and yet there was a strange weight that had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t know if I was grateful for the release of pressure, or if that empty spot would come to be filled by a different, weightier burden.

But I’d accept whatever fallout this might cause. I’d earned it.

I’d never fought for anyone before. I’d been too busy fighting for myself. Thinking only of myself. While Haven had only done the opposite. And I loved her. God, I loved her.

Ellen Russo, the elderly high school chemistry teacher stood up, shaking the packet, a look of horror etched into her ancient features. “You did what in the chemistry lab at the high school, Travis Michael Hale? You’re lucky you don’t have chemical burns on your—"

“That was me!” Tracy Berry stood up with her toddler in one arm, her other arm raised high. “That’s my name that’s redacted!” She grinned around, her smile fading when she saw her husband’s face in his palm. Her raised arm fell limply to her side. “He was the captain of the football team. All the girls wanted him,” she said in explanation. “Oh, get over it, I hadn’t even met you yet,” she grumped, rolling her eyes and dropping back into her seat.

Citizens turned to other citizens, exclaiming about this or that, turning the pages quickly, as my face continued to burn, shame sitting like a rock on my chest.

You deserve this. Every bit of it.

“A strip club? A strip club?” Maggie shouted, rising, and pulling an obviously uncomfortable Norm with her to stand in solidarity to her outrage. She tapped her finger on the page. “You took that innocent boy to a strip club?” she yelled, shock and disappointment clear in her tone. I shivered. “How could you? I oughta take my wooden spoon to you! Despicable, Travis Hale!”

“I know, Maggie,” I said into the microphone. “Believe me, I know.” I stuck my hands in my pockets, both wanting to be swallowed into the floor, and knowing the point of this was to stand in front of these people and experience their disdain, waiting as they all read through each and every item.

We were all going to be here a while.

I glanced at Amber Dalton, the girl, and then woman I’d conspired with on more than one occasion to harass Archer, most notably in a strip club she’d worked at on the other side of the lake many years ago. Her mouth was hanging open. I knew pieces

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