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“We are not doing anything. I am helping with festival prep.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m chilly.”

“It’s seventy-eight degrees.”

“Some women are delicate.”

Petal coughs.

I point at her. “Your baby is very opinionated.”

“My baby has sense.” She looks at Bitter. “I’m gonna go tell Mercy.”

“No.” It comes out too fast.

Both of them look at me.

I soften my voice. “Please don’t. I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Petal hesitates.

Bitter’s gaze sharpens on that word.

Embarrassed.

I know right then I picked the wrong one. Fear he might push. Embarrassed makes him want blood.

Petal touches my arm. “You got two minutes before I develop a conscience.”

Then she waddles away with purpose.

Bitter waits until she is far enough not to hear. “Show me.”

“No.”

“That him?”

I say nothing.

“That’s yes.”

“It’s not your problem.”

His laugh is low and humorless. “You keep saying that like the words are magic.”

“They are boundaries.”

“Boundaries don’t stop Reapers.”

“Neither does bossing me.”

“I ain’t bossing.”

“You are standing in the middle of a carnival demanding my phone.”

“Because somebody’s scaring you.”