Marley leaves my side to appraise the statue more closely. “Well, done. Thank you.” She links her arm through Finn’s and whispers something to him. But he shrugs her off and strides past me. His shirt front is drenched in sweat and his chest huffs with breath after the work he’s just done.
It’s finally two—I’m actually supposed to be here now—when Marley jogs down the steps from her home in a waitress uniform. With her hair in a high ponytail and her wide round glasses, I would never have thought her old enough to be Finn’s mother. Though when you look close enough, you see the worry wrinkles around her eyes.
“I’m off to work.”
“Work?” I say, utterly confused. “I thought the store—”
“The store is my life’s purpose—after Finn and Danny, of course. The Roadhouse Cafe is my job.” She winks at me and hurries out the exit.
I stand at the register, baffled. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose,” I say aloud, “to go to work, so you can pay me?”
“I’ve been telling her that all week.” I’m not sure when Finn came down the stairs and entered the store, but he’s emerged from an aisle showered, changed, and beany free.
My own thoughts in his voice annoy me. Still, the sight of him reminds me that Cytha asked me to take a picture of him and send it to her. How am I supposed to do that without being creepy? Maybe I could draw Finn and text her a picture of my drawing. Or maybe she’ll just have to suffer—or stock him on Insta now that I know the Matthews last name.
I snag a stack of books, without replying to his comment, and head down the romance aisle to find places for a few of our newest used arrivals. I shelve a few books, but ultimately make my way to The Reading Mother. Books in hand, I find myself right in front of her, studying her every detail.
How did I dream about this statue? On what level does that make any sense?
“I thought you would have learned your lesson,” Finn says behind me.
I glance over my shoulder. He’s at the end of the aisle, but walks up beside me, his footsteps silent. He’s warm beside me—his shoulder is inches from mine, but I still feel heat penetrating off of him. He’s ruined my concentration. I’ve been looking for anything different, anything to explain the craziness of what my mind has concocted, but I stare at the mother seeing the exact details from my dream.
“Why do you like her so much?”
I repress my grin, liking the way that he asks about her and not it. Then, without thinking, I answer, “I had a dream about her.”
He scoffs and it makes me lose my trance, cursing myself for what I’ve said. “That doesn’t surprise me—she about crushed you. You’ll have nightmares for the rest of your life about her.” He pats her foot and I jerk—expecting her to come down on us. After the six grown men it took to move her, a foot pat isn’t going to do a thing, but my brain didn’t tell my nerves that soon enough.
“Yeah, probably,” I say, grateful he assumed my dream came after the incident. Why wouldn’t he? That’s what would happen to a sane person.
“Here, since you like this row so much,” he slides a stack of books from the top of the bookcase, “trade me. These go down here.”
In our awkward trade my fingers graze along his hand. My books slip and I juggle trying to keep them off the ground. Finn steadies my hold with both his hands covering mine. I swallow, heat rising to my cheeks when he doesn’t move. Clearing my throat, I mutter, “Thanks.”
“You should come hang out tonight.” His face is so serious that his words confuse me.
I grip the books and pull away from his touch. “Why?”
“Why?” he laughs, his face softening and his blue eyes brightening. “For fun?” he shrugs as if he isn’t sure this is the right answer.
“You’ve never been very welcoming to me—so why now?”
He adjusts the books in his arms, almost like they were a baby he needs to shift. “I haven’t been unwelcoming. We just don’t need you here.”
“Wow, with that gracious invitation, I guess I’ll have to—decline.”
“Decline?”
“Yeah, guess you can’t always get what you want, Finn.”
7
I dream about the fire every night for the next week. My eyes sting, tired from a lack of sleep I should be used to.
“In’t obvus?” Cytha says through her toothbrush and a mouthful of toothpaste. We’ve been video chatting every morning while we get ready. It makes me feel like we’re a few less miles apart.
“Obvious?” I question her full-mouthed word and rake a comb through my tight curls.
She spits in her sink and wipes her mouth across her pajama sleeve. “Yes, obvious.”
I shrug, apparently it’s not obvious enough.
“You have to go to Finn’s bonfire—or whatever it is.”
“Why?” My voice is much too loud and I drop my comb into the sink.
“Essie,” Angelo’s feet patter—thud-thud-thud. “I gotta go.”
I grab my things, including Cytha inside my phone, and open the door with my arms full. “Sorry, bud. It’s all yours.”
He scampers in and doesn’t bother closing the door before lifting the toilet lid. I scoot down the hall and into my room. Dropping my things onto the bed, I rifle through them and fish out my phone. Cytha’s already applying her eyeshadow.
“Crises averted?”
“Yep, he made it. Now, explain. Why would you condemn me to hang out with Finn and his friends?”
“Marley told you they have a fire every night—you’re dreaming about a fire. If you want the dream to stop, you gotta fulfill it.”
“One: that’s ridiculous. Two: I feel totally uncomfortable in the dream. If you’re right, why would I ever want to fulfill that?”
She sets down her lip gloss and stares into the phone. “To stop the dream.”
“Family dinner tonight?” Rodrick holds out both of his hands, his thumbs up.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” I nod and swallow, wishing Marley’s work schedule hadn’t been changed. I work when Marley works—which is normally two to closing or four to closing, depending on the day. But today, she’s covering for a friend. She has the morning shift. Which means, so do I. It’s not that I dislike Rodrick or his family. I just have no desire to sit down to a family dinner with the five of them. They’ll ask me questions and try to bond and the whole thing sounds exhausting and pointless.
Summer hands me the pink cooler bag and Harmony wraps her arms and legs around my right leg.
“Oof,” I grunt, lifting my leg. “You’re so big!” I attempt to remove her from around me. “Summer, you really don’t have to make my lunch every day.”
She pulls Harmony off of me and holds her in her arms. “I don’t mind. See you tonight.”
My head hurts with the goodbye grin I force for them. I’m on family overload. Which is why once again, I’ll be thirty minutes early to work.
The store doesn’t open until eight and its locked up when I arrive. I sift through Summer’s bag and nibble on a string cheese. Finally, at 7:45, Marley opens up the door and waves me inside.