The thought made him feel physically sick.
“Do you think I was right to shove him?” Bryce asked.
Devin stopped pacing. “What?”
“Just answer.”
“He embarrassed you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Devin gave a dismissive laugh. “You want me to say you were the villain? Fine. You were rude. He almost took your head off. Everybody’s got a problem.”
Bryce looked at the promotional mockup on Devin’s phone. It showed two silhouettes beneath the words OLD SCHOOL VS NEW SCHOOL. There was no mention of a frightened child, a corn dog, or a public park.
“Get that off your screen,” he said.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
Devin stared at him. “We’re sitting on the biggest moment of your career.”
Bryce felt the truth of that sentence settle over him. If the biggest moment of his career was an elderly man stepping in front of a child, then he had been building the wrong career all along.
Chapter 16 — The Woman in the Yellow Apron
Grace Alvarez had spent fourteen years selling food at the Fourth of July celebration and had never become famous for a single serving of mustard. After the video spread, strangers found photographs of her cart and began leaving comments on the small business page her niece maintained.
Some praised her for sheltering Caleb. Others demanded to know why she had allowed a fight to happen beside her stand. One person claimed she had “set up” the incident to attract business. Two people called to order fake catering jobs. A local man drove past her house and filmed it for a reaction video, a strange act of cruelty performed in the name of curiosity.
Grace turned off her business notifications. She kept cooking.
On a Wednesday afternoon, Owen visited her cart at the industrial park where she sold lunches to warehouse workers. He waited until the rush was over before approaching.
“Mrs. Alvarez?”
She looked up. For a moment she seemed surprised to see him without a crowd around his shoulders.
“Mr. Briggs. How’s that little boy?”
“Doing better. He still talks about you.”
“He was scared out of his mind.”
“I know. Thank you for taking care of him.”
Grace waved away the gratitude and handed him a paper cup of water. “I would have done that for anybody’s child.”
He nodded. “That’s why I’m thanking you.”
They stood beside the cart while traffic moved through the parking lot. Grace told him about the calls, the comments, the people asking to buy the yellow apron as a souvenir. Owen listened without trying to turn the experience into a joke.
“Everyone wants to know who hit whom,” Grace said. “Nobody wants to know what the boy saw.”
