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Georgia: You said you would be gone for a couple days. Where did you even go?
Georgia: Ashton is trying to call you.
He did. Five times.
I switch my phone to mute. Not wanting to deal with Chicago right now. I’ll text Georgia later and tell her that it might be another week.
“Angry boyfriend?” Colt guesses.
“No.”
“Angry girlfriend?”
“No.” I stuff my phone back into my bra. “That was just my coworker.”
“Angry coworker,” he muses into another hearty swig.
“Why are you even here, Colt?”
“Why else would I be here?” He swishes the flask, then tips his head like he’s searching for someone behind me.
I look over my shoulder.
No one is there.
He’s not okay.
I catch his gaze as he says, “I’m showing support for my only sister. Can’t I do that?”
I nod a few times.
He rubs his exhausted eyes. “The better question is why you’re back here talking to me.”
“You know…” I motion to him. “Showing support for my favorite brother.”
“Sure. Captain Obvious.” His hands tremble a little as he grabs a pair of black Wayfarers that are hooked on his collar.
Concern throttles me. “Did you eat anything this morning?”
He ignores me, then looks toward the cupcake table. “I’m gonna have a quick chat with your girlfriend.”
“What?” I balk. Then I shake out of that shock and say, “She’s not my—”
“Just a quick chat,” Colt cuts me off and slips on his sunglasses.
I gawk. “I’m single.”
“I get that. But if you two are getting back together, I need to do my brotherly duties and ensure her intentions are pure or whatever.”
My cheeks flame, and I lower my voice to a hiss. “We were never together, Colt.”
He jerks his head to the side, flinching at no sound. Nothing. He rubs at the back of his neck, then mutters to me, “Yeah, right.”
Okay, October and I were never officially girlfriends. We just…hung out. Flirted. Kissed. Hooked up a few times.
“Hey, we should be focusing on you here.”
“Why? It’s your book event.”
“That’s true,” I mumble.
He flashes a tight smile. “I’ll be on my way then, little Zo.” He pats my shoulder like nothing in his life is amiss, and I wonder if I’ve become a good distraction for Colt. My return is helping him obsess a little less on the missing girl.
It reassures me. But maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that this was a good idea. Coming home.
Possibly staying longer.
And now Colt is headed for October.
“Colt. You are not—” My words are cut off by a screech from a microphone.
Oh God. I weave through a few shelves and roll to a complete stop when I see Effie Brambilla at the podium. And the packed audience. Not only is every chair occupied, but people are standing in the back, blocking the door to the store with arms crossed in defiance.
Like this is a town hall and they’re prepared to air their grievances.
Colt saunters away to grill October. I can’t follow him—as much as I want to.
Instead, Effie’s intense brown eyes drill into me. “I’d like to welcome Zoey Durand to the podium.”
Fuck my life.
CHAPTER 22
October Brambilla
Zoey approaches the podium with about as much enthusiasm as a wounded cat stepping into the rain. My heart nearly beats out of my chest. You can do this, sweets.
Babette watches beside me as she slowly unwraps her second honey cupcake. “She doesn’t look that frightened.”
“She looks terrified.” My arms are woven over my chest, and I dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from rushing the podium and sweeping Zoey far away from the impending train wreck.
“She could be worse,” Babette whispers optimistically to me. “She could be peeing herself. I’d say she’s doing a fantastic job.”
“At jumping over your lowest bar.”
“The bar has to start somewhere, and I’m sending all my good vibes her way.” She wiggles her fingers like she’s made of magic.
Sometimes I do believe she is.
“OB.”
No.
I tear my gaze from Zoey for a split-second to see her older brother. Colt has approached the cupcake table that Babette and I stand behind.
His tortured gaze is hidden behind dark-shaded sunglasses. “We should talk.”
“Not now,” I snap. Could he have picked a worse time? I’m trying to watch Zoey.
Babette appraises Colt with an up-down sweep. “What’s with the shades?” She stuffs the remaining cupcake in her mouth. “You pretending to be cool or something?”
“I am cool, Baby,” he says her nickname mockingly. “Brambillas just wouldn’t know cool if it shoved you in a freezer.”
I almost glare at him, but my little sister beats me to the stare-down. “You come out of the lighthouse for like five seconds and you’re already a dick?”
“I’m always a dick,” he combats.
“Shut up,” I tell him. “Your sister is about to speak.”
Sure enough, Zoey taps the microphone. “Hello?” Her voice quakes.
Oh God. I can barely breathe. She’s going to be fine. Babette wiggles her fingers and nudges my shoulder, trying to lift my spirits. I have faith in Zoey, but this whole charade has gone too far.
