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Chapter 14
Zoey
I look at my phone, still not quite believing what I’m seeing. He texted me. I don’t know why I thought he might not when he said he would.
Isn’t that what guys do? Get a little and then ghost?
Holly says it is. She says it’s step five of her ‘F system’. Find, Flirt, Fun, Fuck, Fantom.
She doesn’t let an inconsequential thing like proper spelling stop her.
But Blake didn’t exactly get much, not until I was standing on the other side of the door, listening like a creeper. I’d tiptoed back up when I saw his door close, just to see if he was being honest. And he definitely was.
I hope he didn’t hear me sneaking away.
That would be mortifying.
I am in so far over my head that I don’t even know what to think, and that’s just about this whole Blake situation. Add in a mystery that the professional in me doesn’t like leaving unanswered, despite what Jeff thinks, and I’m mentally flittering around like a firefly on crack. I need someone to talk me down, bring me back to Earth and reality.
Still in bed, and definitely not staring at Blake’s good morning, beautiful text, I call the one person I know will tell me the truth, whether I want to hear it or not.
“Hello?” Holly’s frantic voice answers. “Hang on.” She pulls the phone away, but only slightly, to yell, “If you’re out of bed, knock on the wall three times.” I assume she’s talking to Olive because I’ve heard this test before. I’m quiet while I wait for Holly to listen for the answering knocks. “Love you too, honey. Now get a move on. We’re out the door in thirty minutes.” Coming back to the phone, and me, Holly says, “Sorry. What’s up?”
I’m having second thoughts about making this call, but she’s the lesser of two evils. The worse option being Jacob’s graphic, too-personal interrogation. Although having a male opinion might provide insight about what’s running through Blake’s mind, but really, it’s his penis I’m thinking more about. And I can’t have adult relationship conversations with Jacob about my own sex life, though I’ve had the condom talk with him multiple times and unquestioningly restock the bathroom when I see the stock getting low.
“Can I stop by this morning to talk for a second?” I ask nervously.
“Uh, yeah. Of course. What’s wrong? Need me to kill someone and burn the body?” she asks, probably joking but also possibly serious. “Good morning, baby girl.”
She doesn’t even pause to breathe, and I can hear her rummaging around, probably making Olive’s breakfast. At least, I’m pretty sure that last part was for Olive. I only answer the questions that were directed at me. “No murder or body disposal needed. But I saw Blake again last night.”
“What?” she screeches, and then in her sweet mom voice, she says, “Eat that quick while Mommy talks to Aunt Zo-Zo, ’kay?”
More shuffling, and then Holly excitedly orders, “Spill it fast before I climb through this phone and pull it out of you.”
Even through the phone, I can feel her buzzing. Maybe Jacob would’ve been better? But the idea of telling Jacob that Blake got me off on his kitchen island is enough to make me cringe. Holly is definitely the better choice.
I dive in, telling her, “I took him paperwork on the Richard Horne case and we ate dinner at his place.”
There, I did it.
I told her the bare bones of what happened, which should be more than enough for her to remember my curse, and now she can remind me to be careful. That’s what I want her to do . . . right?
Instead, Holly sighs in relief and a touch of giddiness. “Oh, thank God! I thought you were about to say you slept with him and he ghosted in the middle of the night.”
“Uh, that happens?” I ask, shocked. I know step five, but in the middle of the night? Damn.
Her laugh is bitter, and the tender side of me wonders if Holly’s experienced that. “Yeah, that happens. Sometimes not-dating is a good thing, Zoey.”
“Sorry?” I say lamely. Ouch . . . Holly’s weariness with the dating scene is obvious, and not knowing when she was hurt that way makes me feel like an ass.
Holly blows a short raspberry, dismissing my apology and moving on. “Okay, I feel like there’s a lot to unpack here, and I want to hear every juicy detail, especially the stuff you’re not saying. So here’s what we’re gonna do . . . I’m going to make sure Olive hasn’t smeared jelly all over the kitchen table, and we’ll get ready. I’ll drop her to school and head to work. Meet me at the funeral home, and we can talk while I get Mrs. Cochran processed. Okay?”
