Page 190 of Revv

Eventually I choose something expensive enough that it looks intentional without being obnoxious. Red. Her mom cooks a lot. Red feels right.

I have flowers tucked under one arm and the bottle hanging from my fingers when I turn toward the checkout.

That’s when I see him.

At first, my brain doesn’t place the face.

Why would it?

He belongs twenty years ago.

Different house. Whole different fucking life.

The man standing near the end of the next aisle is older now. A lot older.

His hair mostly gray, shoulders softer, stomach pushing against a faded and stained polo shirt. He has reading glasses hanging from the collar and a basket hooked over one arm with bread, milk, and some frozen bullshit dinners.

Normal shit.

Ordinary old-man shit and yet, I stare anyway.

Something cold crawls through my stomach.

There’s no fucking way.

Everything inside me locks up the second I see him.

Travis.

One of the foster dads Lena and I got stuck with growing up. One of the men who was supposed to be safe, supposed to be the adult in the house, and somehow managed to turn every room he walked into something you had to survive instead.

The flowers crush slightly beneath my arm before I even realize I’m squeezing them.

The store keeps moving around me like nothing happened. Cart wheels squeak across tile, a kid laughs somewhere near produce, somebody drops a bottle a few aisles over and an employee comes over the speaker calling for cleanup.

None of it processes properly, because for half a second I’m thirteen again, standing barefoot in a dark hallway listening through a wall, trying to figure out whether whatever was happening on the other side meant I needed to step in or stay the fuck out of the way so I didn’t make it worse for Lena.

My hand tightens around the wine bottle.

Travis turns.

His eyes slide over me at first, casual and blank, then jerk back a second later.

I watch recognition hit.

His face changes slowly, confusion giving way to something uglier as he stares at the grown man standing where that scared kid used to be.

“Revel?”

Hearing my name in his mouth makes something violent pull tight in my chest.

For a long second, neither of us moves.

Then the bastard smiles.

Actually fucking smiles.

“Jesus. Look at you.”