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He pulls me into a tight embrace. “I got us into this mess, please let me get us out?”
I reluctantly nod, and his smile lights up the room.
“Okay, then.” He presses his lips to my temple. “By the time we finish getting your picture at Heidelberg, I should have enough to get us to Chicago. From there, we can head to Hicksville to pick up your grandma’s car.”
Curious, I tilt my head to look at him sideways. “How’d you pull that off?”
“Oh, you know.” He shrugs. “Sold my soul to the devil.”
Warm arms wrap around me, and Dash’s voice rumbles beneath my ear. I sit up and wipe drool from my chin. The flowery aroma of fabric softener and laundry detergent fills the air. “What time is it?”
“Just after seven.” He tucks a few napkins and a pen into his back pocket, then brushes his lips across my bare shoulder.
Dappled sunlight streams through the dirty windows, highlighting an army of dust motes floating in the air. Across the room, a pair of old women steal glances at us as they unload their baskets into open washers. “I can’t believe we slept here.”
“We didn’t. You did.” As if he can’t stop touching me, Dash presses another kiss to the top of my head. “I was busy standing guard.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Memories from the night before race around my head like rats in a maze. I drifted off to the sound of Dash’s voice as he shared his hopes and dreams for the future. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“I really didn’t mind.” He gives my hand a squeeze and nods toward the open restroom in the corner. “But you should probably clean up so we can head out. It’s a long walk to Heidelberg from here.”
Nodding, I climb to my feet and grab my tote.
When Dash said it would be a long walk, he wasn’t kidding. Over an hour after leaving the laundromat, loaded down with our bags like a pair of refugees, we finally reach the whimsical art displays on Heidelberg Street.
The entire block is one large evolving, open-air gallery, attracting tourists from all over. The actual houses look as though someone passed out paintbrushes, glitter, and glue sticks to the neighborhood kids and said, “Go wild!”
Ignoring the growing swarm of people, I focus on the main house. It looks like it’s evolved since Mom was here. The paint looks fresher, the dots bigger and brighter.
“Do you think . . . ?” I turn toward Dash, but he’s lost in his own thoughts, eyes riveted on the crowd.
The color drains from his face.
“Dash?”
My voice snaps him out of it. He locks his gaze on me and cups my face in both hands. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course. Why?” Confusion turns to concern as Dash slips his fingers through mine and pulls me forward. “What’s wrong?”
His grip tightens as he steers me away from the throng. “I’ll tell you as soon as—”
“There she is!” A woman’s excited shriek cracks the air. “Zoey!”
It never fails to surprise me when I hear my name in the wild. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I search the crowd for the other Zoey.
“Zoey, over here!” another voice—a man this time—shouts.
Startled, I whip my head toward the sound and lock eyes with a tall, silver-haired man. With a prickle of anxiety zipping down my spine, I turn to Dash. “He can’t be talking to me, can he?”
Gripping my hand, Dash freezes, his mismatched eyes as wide as stop signs. He moves to step between me and the strangers, but there are too many of them.
A petite brunette rushes toward me, a recording device in her outstretched hand. “When did you first find out? How did that make you feel?”
“Find out about what?” Beside me, Dash pales, and my heart skips a beat. “I think you have the wrong person.”
“How much did your mother tell you about her father?” The woman takes another step forward until she’s within the bubble of my safe zone.
Before I can process what’s happening, a stampede of people armed with cameras, microphones, and selfie sticks descend upon us. Questions come at me from all sides, the voices blending into one, like a swarm of locusts buzzing around me.
