“Kori!” I yell, panic rising in my throat. “KORI!”
Her footsteps pound down the hall, and she bursts through the door, alarm on her face. “What? What’s wrong? Are you—” She stops, her eyes widening as she takes in my new look. For a moment, she stares. Then she bursts into laughter, doubling over and clutching her sides.
“It’s not funny,” I hiss, tugging at a strand. “This is a disaster! I have dinner with Caleb tomorrow!”
“So something is going on!” she crows triumphantly, wiping tears from her eyes. “I knew it!”
“Not the point right now,” I growl. “How did this happen? I bought auburn dye!”
Kori composes herself enough to examine the box on the counter. “This expired six months ago,” she points out, still fighting giggles. “Who knows how long it sat on the shelf?”
“I can’t go out like this,” I moan, sinking onto the edge of the tub. “I look like a walking piece of candy floss.”
“Just don’t wear white and you will be fine!” I shoot her a murderous look, and she wipes the smile from her face. It’s not that bad,” she offers, though her twitching lips betray her amusement. “It’s... bold. Unexpected.”
“It’s hideous.”
“It’s different,” she counters. “And honestly? It kind of suits you.” She sits beside me, bumping my shoulder with hers. “New hair, new adventure. Isn’t that what you always say?”
I glare at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I hate when you use my words against me.”
“That’s what sisters are for.” She stands, offering me her hand. “Come on. Let’s get some wine, and you can tell me what’s really been going on while we were gone. Starting with why you’re having dinner with Caleb tomorrow.”
I take her hand, allowing her to pull me to my feet. “Fine. But no more comments about my hair.”
“I make no promises,” she says cheerfully, leading me back toward the kitchen.
As we settle on the couch with glasses of wine, I find myself telling her everything—the notes, the treasure, Margret and Danny, even Julia’s unexpected appearance. The only thing I hold back is the nightmare and Caleb staying with me afterward. That feels too private, too raw to share even with Kori.
“Holy shit,” she breathes when I finish. “Gold bars? Mineral rights? And someone tried to strangle you?” Her expression darkens. “I should have been here.”
“I handled it,” I assure her, though my hand unconsciously rises to my throat where Danny’s arm had pressed. “Caleb was there. And Scout.”
Something in my voice when I say Caleb’s name makes her eyes soften. “You like him,” she says, not a question.
I stare into my wine glass. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is with you.” She sets her glass down, turning to face me fully. “But maybe this time, it could be. Maybe you don’t have to run.”
“I’m not running,” I protest weakly.
“Aren’t you?” Her gaze is gentle but uncompromising. “Every time someone gets close, you find a reason why it won’t work. Why you can’t stay. And I know that what happened to you and Mark was not your fault. Yes, I blamed you at first, but that was when I thought you were an active party in the demise of my marriage —”
“Kori—
She puts her hand up. “No. Lana, what Mark did to you was not your fault, so please stop blaming yourself. You were a victim just as much as I was, if not more.”
I bite my lip as emotions rise in my throat. I want to argue with her, to defend myself, but the words won’t come. Maybe because deep down, I know she’s right.
“It’s been months, Lana,” Kori says softly. “Months of watching you drift from happy to scared, never letting anyone get close. You deserve better than that. You deserve to be happy again.”
“I am happy,” I insist, but I know that’s not truly the case.
“Are you? Really?” She reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re just surviving.”
The truth of her words hits me like a physical blow. I’ve been so focused on staying in motion, on not getting attached, that I haven’t realized how exhausting it’s become.
“I don’t know how to do it differently,” I admit finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I think about dating someone...” I trail off, unable to articulate the fear that grips me.
