Page 36 of The Dearly Departed

Shawn was silent now, and I doubted it had anything to do with swooning or thoughts of the perfect relationship he had with Shelby. No, that sentimental bastard was likely wondering what he could do to fix me, to find those missing screws in my brain and put them back into place. But that wasn't on him. It wasn't his job to make me better, just as I knew it was no longer my job to take care of him or Isaac.

Yet I still do, I thought, filling my lungs and sending the air out into the musty cab. And I always will.

Fuck, I need a cigarette.

I rolled up to a red light and cast my gaze out the window to my side when my eyes caught a glimpse of glimmering black hair. My hands gripped the wheel, my breath hitched, and I stared at the owner of the waterfall of onyx, spilling over her shoulders to cascade down her slender back.

Let me see your face. I need to see your face. I need to see your eyes, please.

"Bram."

I hardly heard Shawn's voice above the frantic mutterings in my head as I continued to pray for this woman to simply turn around.

Just turn the fuck around.

"Abraham," he said, louder this time, shoving against my shoulder.

"Shut the hell up," I answered, panicked and tense, just as a car behind us honked its horn.

"Drive!" Shawn shouted.

"For fuck's sake!"

I stepped on the gas, barely paying attention to the road as I swerved and made a hasty U-turn, maneuvering the vehicle into a sloppy parallel park just feet away from where the woman with the black hair remained standing.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

There was no time to answer Shawn though as I unbuckled and threw the truck door open, jumping out of the cab. A sedan nearly plowed into me, yet I didn’t react or care, even as their horn blared, along with a slew of expletives thrown out an open car window.

I neared the woman in one step, then two, and although reason told me it was unlikely to be her—the girl I could never forget—I still needed to see her face. I needed to know. Because if I didn't find out for certain, it'd keep me awake all night, just as it had countless times before. She just needed to notice me, she needed to look, and then I could—

My feet froze on the spot the moment the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen turned to face me, her dark eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before that smile fell to the ground at her feet. Brows as dark as her hair drew together as she stopped talking to the person she was with—another woman about her age—and she tipped her head, a question written clearly on her face, waiting to fall from her full, parted lips.

"Lisey?" the other woman asked, brushing her hand against the black-haired woman's elbow.

Lisey.

Not Anna. Lisey.

The disappointment fell upon my head in quick doses before dumping its weight altogether, holding me down beneath the sea of despair. I’d thought it was her. I was so sure, so certain for a fraction of a second, and now I had to wonder if I'd recognize her at all if I were to ever see her again.

I’m never going to see her again.

I’m never going to know if she’s all right.

Just let it go.

"I’m sorry. Do I know you?" the black-haired woman—Lisey—asked, her deep brown eyes narrowing with question, like she was trying to place me … but she never would.

I shook my head apologetically. "No," I replied, my voice gruff as it scraped against my throat. "Sorry."

God, I was so fucking stupid.

Spinning around quickly, not allowing her to say anything else, I hurried back to the truck, where Shawn waited with his mouth agape. I climbed back in, slamming the door shut.

"What the fuck was that?!" he demanded as I peeled away from the curb without buckling in.

I had to leave, and I had to do it quickly.