“Not really,” I say finally. “I saw some of his paintings, and that was pretty much it. His view of the lake is nice.”
The words come out with a tail of acid reflux, and I’m nauseous from the cryptic text Harrison sent to Emmett Holloway.Now that Alice is dead—I need to figure out what to do with her girls…
My legs start bouncing again, restless under my palms, with half a mind to drive straight to Amelia’s school once I get home. To pull her from class and take her far, far away from this place.
Rory lets out a scoffing laugh, his knuckles tightening on the wheel as our bodies sway with the curvature of the cliffside road. “So… you’re gonna let this whole thing go?”
“Yes,” I say, too fast. I shift in my seat to face him, staring at his side profile. “We can’t tell anyone, okay? Not your parents, or my sister. I don’t want anyone knowing we came over here.”
“You thinkIwant anyone knowing?” he reassures me.
I exhale and pivot back toward the passenger window, my reflection ghosting over the lake below. The splattering rain skating down the glass, creating a transparent dotted layer over the lake, pulls me into a strange daze.
My breath hitches as Rory turns the wheel sharper than he means to around a bend, and I’m sure we’re going to hydroplane. Go hurtling into the water.
I imagine it. Flinging off the cliff. Roller-coaster belly. Hair springing up toward the roof with gravity’s will. The deep descent would last only seconds—a suspended, soundless terror—before we’d slam against the inflexible waters, like hitting a brick wall. On the way down, I would reach for Rory’s hand, hunting for a final moment of consolation before the big sleep. The impact wouldn’tkill us, but sinking thirty feet below until we were atop the cold, gooey mud on the bottom would. We’d die down there, water filling the car faster than we could escape it as fish curiously swam by. His car would become our coffin.
If ghosts exist, Mom’s would be down there. Her hair splayed lusciously, her body haloed in a soft green glow. Smiling. Beckoning me to join her on the other side. To become a ghost at the bottom of the lake with her. To be by her side for eternity, with the fishes.
She’s so beautiful. And she’s down there, waiting for me.
What happened to you?I beg in my head, the vision taking over.Who did this, Mom? Who took you away?
My voice hardly penetrates through the water, like trying to talk in a dream, but your words don’t form properly.
I miss you so much,I try again. But the sentence unravels into streams of bubbles, gurgles. And her spirit is pulled deeper into the water, out of reach. I stretch my hands out, body restricted by my seat belt.Mom!I sob.Come back! Please!
But she keeps fading away, becoming glassier in appearance until she’s gone completely, stolen from me twice.
And then the idea of nosediving isn’t as pleasant. She may not be down there at all.
A hard curve in the road jolts me back. Rory veers us onto the main road, away from the lake. I blink a single tear down my cheek, my eyes burning. I secretly swipe it away before Rory catches me crying again. I know he wouldn’t mind, but I do.
When we approach our street, he speaks. “I have to go down to the office for a while with my mom, but I can try to get some other work done from your house before I go, if you want. So you’re not alone all afternoon.”
His pity is kind, and sincere. But it makes me feel guilty. Like all I do is soak him in sorrow. Like I’ve become his personal natural disaster, bringing the flood daily.
“Thanks. That’s okay, though,” I say. “It’ll be good for me to put my head down and finish packing.”
The car slinks down Little Mountain Road and rounds the bend up to Mom’s house. My shoulders sag at the sight of it—its memory ruined now.
Before we make it to the top, a flash of red and blue floods our view. A police cruiser is on its way out.
Rory brakes, rolling down his window to speak with them. My first thought is that they know—that someone, somehow, saw me at Harrison’s house, and they’ve come to drag me out by the wrists.
The cruiser slows when it reaches us, then stops and the window lowers, lining up with Rory’s car.
“Ms. Bly?” asks Officer Harding, his face weatherworn but polite. “Just finishing up a property check. Everything looks clear. No disturbances outside, nothing suspicious.”
“That makes me feel a little better,” I manage, pulse easing.
“I’m glad. My shift’s about done, but I’ll let Officer Wright know to do a drive-by around sunset, keep eyes on the place.” He smiles, tipping two fingers off the brim of his cap. “Y’all stay safe.”
Rory nods from behind the wheel, watching as the cruiser glides down the driveway behind us, taillights winking once before vanishing beyond the trees.
When we park at my front door, I stare at his profile again, soft in the muted light of the window. My chest squeezes at how steadfast he’s been today, all weekend. I lean across the center console and press my lips to his.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his mouth.
