He looks at me with the same level of scrutiny she had, like he’s looking for honesty in my words. He slowly nods. “You’re probably right. She’s clearly a few screws short of a hardware store.”
“Batshit nuts,” I confirm, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. I don’t know why they’re falling exactly, just that I can’t seem to make them—or my thoughts—stop.
Ellen.
Ellen.
Ellen.
The name repeats through my mind like a merry-go-round, digging through forgotten memories and discarded thoughts from my childhood.
Arlo pulls me to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. His gray eyes are filled with concern, and his jaw is tight, making the small, jagged scar that’s right above his shallow dimple more obvious. “Sorry I got you involved in this,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me closer for a hug. His sweatshirt feels cold at first against my face, and then it quickly warms and catches my tears.
I shake my head, my voice too unsteady to reply. I pull in a breath through my nose and take a step back, focusing on the breeze, the light mist promising to curl and frizz my hair and make me feel damp and cold all night. I focus on Rose being out of class soon and busy the rest of my thoughts with ideas for takeout.
“Sorry to weird out. I just…” I blow out a breath. “We should go.”
He nods, and though he offers a smile, his gaze is still serious, and his silence too loud.
9
Arlo
My thoughts are still in the parking lot of Pivotal Physical Therapy, where Olivia slipped out of my SUV and into her car with barely a wave. She was silent for the entire drive, her attention solely on the passenger window.
It has me thinking of home—of New Jersey. Of Mom stopping at bakeries on her way home to pick up baklava and Dad getting excited over picking up a car for a great deal. Summers at the shore with them and my brother and a train ride to get nearly anywhere.
“Hey!” Raegan calls, taking a step back from where she’s standing in the kitchen.
“Rae Rae, what’s up? I haven’t seen you around. You guys aren’t still avoiding being around Pax, are you?”
She flashes a smile that grows as I make my way toward her.
“What are you talking about? I brought you food and a stack of RedBox movies.” She looks at Lincoln, who has a garbage bag open, standing in front of the fridge where he’s pitching out all the spoiled food.
“That was four weeks ago,” I tell her.
She frowns. “Has it been that long? Gosh, I swear time is on fast forward lately. How are you feeling? You look good.”
I wink, turning my attention to Lincoln. “Hear that? Your girlfriend’s still checking me out.”
Lincoln flips me off before grabbing what appears to have once been a tomato. “She’s lying because she’s too nice.”
“Rae Rae, do I need to tell your boyfriend that you’re an independent thinker and defend your honor?”
“Don’t tell him that,” she whispers. “I’m in the process of reverse psychology-ing him.”
Lincoln pauses, giving her a side-eye to end all side-eyes, then shakes his head and laughs as he turns his attention to me. “Where have you been?”
I pull in a breath, starvation and pain are my excuses as I take a seat and explain my journey with Olivia to go and find the woman who cursed me.
“Wait,” Lincoln says. “So, you really believe you’re cursed? Like for real, real? Not a joke?”
“Have you been listening to the list of evidence?” I ask.
“Yeah, and I think you’re fucking crazy.”
“I think it’s cute that she offered to go with you. I haven’t heard you mention Olivia before.” Raegan sits across from me, her eyes bright with an obvious intention to learn more.
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Sherlock. She has a boyfriend. We’re just friends.” My brow furrows as I think of Olivia and her place in my life or if there even is one. “I’m not even sure we’re friends. We’re more acquaintances.”
“And the plot thickens,” Rae says, taking a seat at the bar beside me.
I shake my head. “No, I’m serious. She’s stubborn and opinionated and Southern.”
Lincoln looks at me. “She has an accent?”
Raegan grabs an empty paper towel roll that’s sitting near my elbow and throws it at Lincoln. He catches it and flashes a smile.
“You guys are hopeless,” Rae Rae says with a faux Southern accent that makes her sound more British than Southern.
Lincoln laughs, his attention on her and her alone—so intense it almost feels like I’m an interloper. The two share something that is both undeniable and often fascinating. Lincoln Beckett went from having an extreme allergy to even the word girlfriend, to risking his future career and best friend to earn Raegan’s heart.
He leaves the fridge open and the bag of garbage on the floor, stalking over to Raegan and dropping his hands onto the counter of the bar on either side of her. “You’re perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
“Except your parking,” I chime in. “You parked in my spot.”
Raegan shifts her gaze to me, her cheeks coloring like she’d forgotten I was here. “Sorry about that.”
Lincoln shakes his head. “I drove because she was talking to Poppy on the phone. Sorry, man.”
“Well, in that case, your title of perfection is reinstated. Commence making out while I make myself scarce.
“You don’t have to go. Hang out. Chat. Tell us how physical therapy is going,” Raegan says. “Paxton’s going to be here soon. We’re supposed to hang out, show him that my dating his best friend isn’t weird, and maybe throw in a few suggestions about his day drinking habits coming to an end.”
“But if he stops day drinking, who am I going to hang out with?” I ask.
“Maybe your new non-friend?” Her eyes gleam in the way a girl’s do when she wants to talk about your personal life.
I take one look at Lincoln, who’s barely trying to veil his hope that I’ll leave them to play grab-ass in the kitchen, and turn around. “It’s cool. I’ve got homework and class in the morning.”
I start toward the living room when my phone rings. ‘Rose’ my called ID indicates.
“Hey.”
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but Olivia thinks she might have left her phone in your car. Would you mind checking? We’ve torn apart the apartment looking for it.”
“Don’t tell me she’s the kind of girl who silences her phone so it won’t ring.”
“Oh, she is. She doesn’t even turn it to vibrate.”
“So, needle in a haystack situation. Doesn’t she have the tracker app?”
“That’s what I asked,” Rose says.
“That’s a no?”
“That’s a hell no.”
I flip on the outside lights. “I’m going to set you down for a minute so I can get out there. I’ll be right back.” I slide my phone into my pocket and head outside. The raindrops are now larger, rounder drops that fall like heat-seeking missiles, diving into the gaps of my clothes, hitting my bare neck and wrists, chilling my skin. I go to the passenger side of my SUV and wrench open the door, the residual heat from my drive providing a welcomed reprieve from the weather. I search around the seat, in the door, and then locate it hidden beneath the seat.