And I did, but the outside one stays on.
I may be willing to adapt to make Hazel happy but I’m not risking her safety, not even for her.
Lilac
You’re insane and ridiculous and impossible.
Flynn
You’re beautiful and smart and devastating.
Three words are not enough to describe her. Can’t possibly capture the softness in her gaze when she looks at me, thevibrant life in her eyes, and how even her anger is adorable. They’ll have to do for now though.
She comes back outside, this time bundled up in a light purple puffer jacket. She’s so small she’s more coat than person and I can’t help the curve to my lips.
Lilac
Happy?
Flynn
More than you know.
Pretty sure cameras count as stalking, Flynny.
“Shh you,” I say to Hope’s grave. Besides, it’s not stalking if I’m doing it to keep her safe and clearly she needs someone to look out for her. Going outside without a coat in this weather is a recipe for hypothermia.
I watch Hazel until she gets into the old Buick she drives, making a mental note to get the car looked at because it’s honestly a miracle that thing still starts. Once she’s pulled out of the drive, I tuck my phone away and stand up.
I press three fingers to the top of Hope’s gravestone and close my eyes. Depending on how things go down this might be the last time I get to visit her here.
“See you later, alligator,” I murmur.
In a while crocodile.
The graveyard is still empty as I make my way back to my bike and the roads stay quiet through the suburbs.
I’m pretty sure the place I’m heading isn’t even on the police’s radar but I park a few streets down just in case and walk the rest of the way.
The doorbell rings under my gloved finger and then a middle-aged woman with eyes just like Hope’s opens the door.
“Carly,” I say.
She gasps and tugs me inside, pulling me into a hug. Normally, I avoid physical contact because I never know what to do when people hug me, but I will always let Carly hold me for as long as she likes.
“What are you doing here?” she asks when she finally pulls back. She wipes her cheek and fixes her loose ponytail. “I tried calling the number you gave me, but it didn’t work.”
It’s warm in the house and I take off my jacket, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door. “It’s not been activated yet.”
I look around the small hallway, my gaze lingering on the photos of Hope. Right at the bottom of the stairs there’s one of me and her, wrestling on the couch. I’m about nine in that photo, which makes Hope fifteen.
Behind me, Carly fidgets with the cuffs of her checked shirt. “Something went wrong.”
I turn to face her. “Not exactly.” The lines around Carly’s eyes crease and I let myself relax into being here.
Hope’s house was my safe haven growing up. Carly worked long hours as a nurse so Hope would spend most of the vacations with us but during the school year I’d come here after class pretty much every day. Partly to see Hope and partly to avoid my father. Carly became like a second mother to me. “I just came from the cemetery,” I tell her.
Sadness pools in her eyes but she reaches out and squeezes my fingers. “Come on, I’ll make us coffee.”
