Page 62 of Find My Way Down to You

I turn my head. Flower petals. Soft and white andthere, scattered across my pillow and mattress. Their rich honeyed scent fills my nose. But that’s not the only thing I smell.

Sweetness, like ripe fruit. Heady. Lingering in the air.

Him.

My skin is cool where his arm held me. The back of my head tingles at the absence of his hand. On the tips of my fingers, I still feel the definition of his bicep, the coiled muscles.

I sigh, eyes shutting again.

I’m too exhausted to question the smile inching across my mouth as sleep drags me back under.

9

The weekend rushhits Viva Catalina’s hard.

A continuous stream of people flows in. They spread out and fill up tables, booths, the long bar. Saturday afternoons are like this, when State Street Promenade is swarmed by families and tourists. The fleet of bored teens desperate for time with friends and away from their parents.

I haven’t stopped moving since my shift started two hours ago. There’s always something to do. Collect used dishes. Wipe down tables. Drop off plates of food when Max or Kennedy are overrun with orders.

It’s a nice distraction. Never a moment to think. To remember it’s beendayssince I was last in Aides.

I look forward to seeing you soon, August.

Milos’s words echo through my head on repeat. Before Cary brought me back, he didn’t mention when he’d return.When the celebration was. Maybe it already happened. Maybe Cary lied.

Maybe he never planned to come back for me.

But then I hear the undercurrent of what he said:

I will bring you back. If you want.

I still don’t know what to make of Cary. But I believe him. Honesty ran like a river in his voice. The steadiness of his face. His unflinching lips.

Hewillcome back for me.

I just don’t know when.

Which has me on edge. How much time do I have left before London’s next on Milos’s list? What if he’s sent to Elysium, a place I can’t go? Or worse…the Abyss? My organs knot painfully, remembering the way those shadows swallowed that begging soul right in front of me.

“Watch your six, Curly!”

Kennedy swerves around me with both palms propping up pizza pans.

I spin in a small circle. “Wait, where’s my six again?”

Her laugh lingers as she strolls over to a large family seated at two pushed-together tables.

In the kitchen, dishes clatter. Junie and Tonia assemble pie after pie, joking and playfully shoving each other. It’s impossible to hear their conversation over customer chatter and the music.

More eighties songs. At least I know this one. Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere.” I’ve heard it playing in the background ofan online ad before. My foot taps along to the sweet harmonies as I restock the napkin dispensers.

Nearby, plastic hits the floor. A splash follows. Tiny cubes of ice slide toward the toe of my sneaker.

“Oh, Hannah, careful!”

Someone’s five-year-old has knocked over an entire cup of soda. No one moves to clean it up. From the front counter, Max gives me a pitiful stare.

I tip my head back, sighing. “I’ll get the mop.”