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“You probably shouldn’t tell her she’s a witch, herself. That could put her in danger. But you should tell her they exist, that they’re after my family, and one used her likeness to get close to you and inside this house,” he says, brushing a lock of my hair back and tucking it behind my ear.
“What if she asks why witches would be after your family, in particular?” I ask, biting my lip.
“You tell her the truth,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy, keeping things from her on my behalf. I appreciate your loyalty, but after everything that has happened, I think it’s best if Steph knows as much as possible. She needs to understand the danger so she can protect herself.”
“You’re right,” I whisper, dread coiling in my stomach.
How am I supposed to explain all this to Steph? What if she doesn’t believe me? I could lose my best friend, forever.
No. That’s not going to happen. I’ll find a way to make her understand.
Jesse must sense the shift in my emotions, because he presses a kiss to my forehead and stands. Taking my hand, he helps me up, then gives me a little shove toward the bathroom.
“Call her in there. You’ll have the privacy you need, and I’ll go grab you some food.” He picks up Not-Steph’s bag, which she left at the beach when she disappeared, and pulls out her phone. “And I’ll have one of our tech guys break into this to see what information we can gather from it.”
“Jesse?” I call out as he heads toward the door. He turns back with a questioning look, and I add, “Thanks. For everything.”
“I love you,” he says as if that explains it all, then walks out.
Heading into the bathroom, I close the door behind me. Taking a deep breath, I sit on the edge of the tub and dial Steph’s number. Even though I already corrected her contact information, I’m not taking any chances.
“Eden. Oh, my God. I’ve been trying to call you back, but my number is still blocked. What in the hell is going on?”
“I’m sorry,” I say breathlessly, the worry in her voice bringing tears to my eyes. “I can explain, Steph, but you have to promise to hear me out. What I’m about to tell you…it sounds insane. But it’s the truth.”
“Okay,” she says, drawing the word out. “I’m listening.”
“Do you remember the last time I called you? From the souvenir shop?”
“Of course, I do. That was the last time we talked. Before you blocked me,” she says, the hurt evident in her voice on that last bit.
“I didn’t block you, Steph. I promise.”
“But––”
“Please, just let me get through this,” I interrupt, and she falls silent. “I video-called you that day because I needed to see for myself that you were still in Georgia…because I’d just seen you on Hollywood Boulevard.”
“Wait. What?” she asks, thoroughly confused.
“I saw a woman who looked exactly like you walk into that shop. But when I chased her inside, she disappeared. Jesse didn’t see her, but suggested I call you to prove to myself it wasn’t you. And it wasn’t. You were obviously at work. I assumed I must’ve been mistaken. That the bright California sunshine was playing tricks on my eyes, or something.”
I pause to gather my thoughts, and thankfully, Steph remains silent. This is hard enough without her lobbing questions at me.
“The next day, Jesse and I were back in that same area, and I saw her again. Only, it wasn’t a stranger. It was you. At least, that’s what she led me to believe. Steph, she looked like your identical twin. Same hair, same voice, same clothes. Everything. She told me Aunt Bernadette sent her out to visit me as a surprise.”
“What. The. Fuck,” she says slowly, enunciating each word succinctly. “Who…? Why…?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice dropping. “Something seemed off, but I kept shoving the feeling away. She was standing there, looking like you, acting like you, talking like you…I thought I was going crazy. Little things she did or said made me suspicious of her, but then I felt guilty as hell for being suspicious of you. So, I pushed the doubts aside until I couldn’t anymore.”
“What did she do to tip you off?” she asks, and I’m grateful she’s asked the one question with the simplest answer.
“She insisted I wear my red bikini to the beach today.”
“You don’t own a red bikini,” Steph says automatically, and the knot in my chest loosens a bit.
This is my best friend. The one who really knows me.
“Only you and I knew about the bikini bonfire,” I say. “And you posted a pic of me wearing it that day.”
