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Junie ran up to her mom, screaming the lyrics with Gabby at her side. Chris lifted his daughter into the air, radiating the same joy and excitement as the little girl in his arms. Aidan and Lizzie were in front of each other, bouncing on the tips of their toes, tossing their heads side to side.

And then there was Gwen, yelling the lyrics with a smile into her best friend’s face, and then mine. Even in the cold winter wind, sweat pearled her brow, plastering little red tendrils to her cheeks. The smile across her lips as she grabbed my shoulders and popped her hips left and right had my heart on fire and a feeling I couldn’t put into words exploding in my chest.

A strange cross of excitement and comfort and joy and peace and love. So much love.

This was community. Friendship and romance and fun and hope.

Belonging. Maybe that was the word I was looking for.

That look on Gwen’s face, on Lizzie’s, on Edwards’, and even Simone’s. I wished I could take a photograph of it. I wanted to paint it later. I wanted to embody this feeling in a piece of art we could all look back on in twenty years and say, See? We belonged. We were happy, and we belonged.

Until the scream.

Just as the song ended, a scream rang out.

“Mommy!”

Not an Ow, I fell down, kind of scream.

A terrified, Something’s really wrong, kind of scream.

All our heads whipped around.

Junie, who’d been jumping and singing and dancing a moment ago, stood on the outskirts of the patio. A figure stood before her. I couldn’t make out who at first, not even their gender. Not until I saw the manicured fingers wrapped around Junie’s wrist, long nails digging into the little girl’s pale skin.

“Mommy, she won’t let go!”

Speechless, eyes wider than the midnight sky overhead, Simone shoved past Edwards and Gwen and anyone else in her way. She sprinted to her daughter.

The woman released Junie’s wrist. “Aw, I wasn’t trying to hurt⁠—”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Simone hoisted Junie to her hip. Half her size or not, she wrapped her arms around the sobbing child and locked eyes with the woman. “You need to leave, Angela.”

Angela.

Of course it was Angela.

She looked different than she had in her mugshot. More put together. Rather than a mop atop her head, brown curls dangled around her sharp features. The hollowed-in cheeks were similar, as were the cold, vacant eyes.

They narrowed as all the eyes turned on her. The music dulled to silence. So did the crowd.

“I was just saying hi, Jess,” Angela began. “I⁠—”

“I’m sorry.” Mallory’s voice carried as she pushed through the crowd. Standing beside Simone, her tone stayed neutral, which was lethal compared to her bubbly nature. “Who are you?”

“I’m so sorry,” Simone began. “I don’t know how she⁠—”

“Jess’s mother-in-law.” Angela waved Simone off. Even from a few yards away, I caught the scent of alcohol on her breath. “Or Sloan, is it? Is that what you go by these days?”

“Shit,” Gwen said, finally letting go of my hand. She jogged up behind Simone.

I stayed at Gwen’s flank.

“Great, nice to meet you.” Mallory stepped between them and crossed her arms, giving Angela a once-over. “Who invited you?”

The smile that came to Angela’s lips walked the line of embarrassment and pride. She surveyed the crowd and propped her hands on her hips. “I heard all the excitement and figured I’d pop in. I thought that looked like my granddau⁠—”

“So, no one invited you?” Mallory cocked her head to the side.