Page 83 of Within These County Lines

“And?” I grip my chair’s armrests. “How long has she been missing?”

Whitley hesitates. “That’s the thing.” She twirls a finger through her hair and avoids eye contact. “Dara isn’t missing.” My heart stops. “What?”

“She works at a women’s shelter outside Fairmont, West Virginia. I found a video of her online from March. She was talking about the services they offer. There’s another guy in the video with her.”

I stand so fast my chair wheels back into the cubicle wall. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

She shrugs. “Robbie probably didn’t understand what you were asking. Or he lied. Either way, he seemed like a dick. If I were Dara, I’d run away from him too.”

“So, what are you saying?” I throw up my hands.

She sighs. “I trust that you see Xander. But maybe—and I know you don’t want to hear this—he’s the one who cursed you, not those witches from hundreds of years ago. He might be using you for something.”

“Like what?”

“To get back at who killed him.”

“Stop, Whitley.” I pace, shaking my head.

I just opened up to Xander, told him the secret I couldn’t tell anyone. And now Whitley is saying he’s manipulating me? That he’s just another Murray? How many times can I be fooled by a boy before I finally break?

“The Ardor Tree has been around forever,” Whitley goes on. “Don’t you think someone would’ve noticed something strange about it by now?”

I clench my fists. “I disagree.”

“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt. Again.”

“I need to talk to Dara.” I grind my teeth. “If she’s cursed like us, then that will disprove your theory.”

Whitley crosses her arms. “Dara’s not going to have the answer. She’s just going to share normal Penango family drama.”

No.

Nothing about this town is normal.

35

I wish I wasn’t splitting up with Whitley.

Xander and I plan to drive to Fairmont, West Virginia, today after work to find Dara and figure out once and for all if there really is another cursed heart.

Whitley, on the other hand, isn’t coming. She’s spending the rest of the day doing more interviews for her research study, then coyote hunting at dusk. She isn’t interested in hearing what Dara has to say. When I drop her off at home, she makes me promise I’ll be back to help with the hunt.

I get where she’s coming from with her theory. She doesn’t trust Xander, not because he’s done anything wrong, but because she can’t witness how he takes care of me, hear his jokes, or see that he’s just hoping for a second chance. He’s a ghost to her, and we’re taught to fear them.

But I don’t think she totally understands the intricacies of our curse. I checked that video of Dara online. It’s true there’s another man in the footage, but they’re never in the same scene together.

It was edited—spliced—like he wasn’t really there.

I forge ahead acting like Xander doesn’t want to hurt me, he simply wants my help, just like I want his. I need to find Dara as quickly as possible, to prove to Whitley that I’m on the right track, that Xander isn’t lying to me, and that I’m not lying to myself.

The heat is relentless today, thick like a wool blanket thrown over the town. My truck’s black leather seats are practically sizzling. I crank the air conditioning and hold my fingers over the vent to dry the sticky film of sweat on my skin.

Xander sits in the passenger seat with his backpack at his ankles. He unloads two cans of lime sparkling water, slick with condensation, and places them into the cupholders. Then he flashes me the rest of his bag’s contents—an entire stash of candy.

“Road trip ready!” he announces.

“It’s barely an hour away,” I say with a light laugh.