***
It’s just one student. From what I can gather watching from a safe distance, his mom has been personally begging Amara for more lessons on his behalf, even though she told them she was sick and needed a few days. It’s brave of her to come here, no doubt about that, after what happened to her. But I can and will keep her safe. I’m the only one who can.
No jogging for me today, I’m dressed in jeans and a shirt, with a baseball cap on top and a pair of sunglasses. I’ve gone as close to her as I dare, but I’ve still stayed back. After what we shared, it feels like there’s no way she wouldn’t recognize me if she saw me. But I’ve been smart about it, keeping her in my sight while wandering around the park, down to the water’s edge and back and forth through the trees. Just another person enjoying the green space in the middle of the city.
I think about the guys that attacked her. The police never did come to either of us, so as I predicted the ones that were left over didn’t say a thing. Arrested and released, since there was pretty flimsy evidence against them, but I read that one of them was found hanged in an abandoned building yesterday. They’re saying suicide, but I’m not convinced.
Shit, who is Amara? And who is her father? To have people like that after her, what must her family be mixed up in?
I bought myself a coffee in a little cardboard cup from the stand near the road, and right now I’m sitting on a bench watching her while I drink it. It tastes OK, surprisingly enough. Close to good, even. I prefer my coffee fresh and filtered, rather than instant, but this isn’t bad.
My thoughts about my cheap coffee are interrupted when I notice someone staring at the two of them from another bench on the opposite side of the rink. At first, I think maybe he’s the boy’s father, just arrived from work. Expensive suit, slicked back hair, shoes shiny enough I can see the clouds reflected in them even from this distance. But something doesn’t fit. The jaw is too wide for a city banker or insurance agent. The hands are too meaty. His nose has definitely been broken sometime in the past.
And besides, if the kid has a father that can afford a one-thousand dollar suit, what’s he doing in three-year-old sneakers and a coat with a paint stain on the shoulder?
My legs are moving on their own. I’m on my feet, the low growl rumbling from my chest. It’s another one of those guys that attacked her, I know it. Are they going to try to snatch her again, right here in the middle of the park, or have things moved on? I glance over his coat, trying to determine if there’s a gun hidden underneath it, even as I’m starting to break into a run, heading for her, not him. If I can get to her, I can put myself between them. Safer than going right around the ice skating rink.
“Hey!” I shout, my voice scratchy with anger. “Hey, you!”
Amara turns at the sound of my voice, and I see her eyes go wide. She’s recognized me, but that’s fine. I’ll deal with her realization that I’ve been stalking her once she’s safe. She can scream and shout, but I’m going to keep watching her because she’s mine to protect.
To keep safe from harm.
The guy on the bench stands up and turns, and I’m noting any features I can so I can track his ass down and make sure he never comes back here again.
And then he throws his arms around a woman with red hair. She’s grinning, pinching at his suit, saying something about it, and I nearly crumple to the floor.
It was nothing. I was overreacting. Jesus, just how gone am I over this girl?
“Saint? Hey, yourself,” Amara says, her lips creasing into a smile.
I force my legs to slow, realizing I threw my coffee to the floor when I got up off the bench. I probably look like a complete maniac, running towards her, dressed like I’m in a cheap spy movie.
“Who’s he?” the kid beside her asks, and she turns to him.
“He’s Saint. He’s a friend of mine, I think he saved my life a few days ago.” She grins at me. “Saint, this is Toby. Do you want to join us?”
What can I say? “Er… sure. Have either of you had lunch?”
***
Hot dogs for lunch.
That surprisingly good coffee.
Pastries from the little patisserie over the road, filled with the most decadent cream and covered in bags of sugar.
I’m not sure what Toby’s parents are going to say when they find out what we fed him, but watching Amara indulge in the delicious food makes my heart soar. Things are so easy with her, with us, we just work. After we’ve eaten, I rent a pair of skates and join the two of them on the ice. It’s been years since I last skated but I guess it’s like riding a bike, you never forget how to make a fool of yourself.