A glance around the park revealed how the world was transitioning out of the worst of the pandemic. Adults and older children were reveling in their maskless freedom. They turned their faces to the sky and seemed to fill their chests with river-scented air. They sat on the grass beneath the Brooklyn Bridge within arm’s reach of one another, confident that the shots for which they’d all scoured the internet and waited in lines spanning city blocks would prevent them from contracting anything deadly or debilitating, if not from contracting the virus completely.

Young children could not yet enjoy such liberties. Tonya watched a pair of elementary schoolers sprint through the park, the bottom halves of their faces covered in rainbow paper masks. Despite the gear, there seemed to be a new lightness about these kids. They grasped the handles of playground equipment without looking over their shoulders for parents with a waiting bottle of hand sanitizer. New Yorkers, always a devil-may-care bunch, had returned to their former state, accepting the danger that accompanied regularly interacting with strangers.

The hopeful atmosphere made Tonya feel even more certain about her decision to come clean. Though she was by no means well-off, she’d managed to keep a roof over her and Layla’s heads using her unemployment checks—though that roof had been in a basement Bushwick apartment nearly an hour away from Layla’s school. Her new restaurant job and the salary bump she’d negotiated due to the shortage of returning hospitality workers would give her a cushion as she and her daughter—hopefully—moved into a place closer to Brooklyn Heights.

Tonya felt her daughter stiffen beside her. She followed Layla’s gaze to see Rick entering the park. He appeared tan and handsome, which Tonya was surprisingly thankful for. Layla looked like her father’s side of the family. It was better for her daughter not to fear what that meant.

“Is that him?” Layla whispered.

“Get behind me,” Tonya answered.

Once Layla was hidden, Tonya raised her hand to wave Rick over. The movement stretched the deep scar on her side, making the wound itch and throb. Still, she kept her hand up. The Rick Redsell she knew was a liar and a coward; she needed him to come to her before he spied Layla and ran down the street.

Rick’s brow rose as he noticed her signaling. He strode over, all swagger and expensive clothing, no doubt ready to bully her about remaining silent a bit longer for the apartment down payment. Tonya braced herself for his reaction when he realized that she couldn’t be bought anymore. Blackmailing Nate to fund a scholarship for Layla had provided the tie to his murder that had nearly gotten her killed. She was done selling her silence.