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I sink into the shattered hope.
If our love story were an actual book, I’m afraid it wouldn’t have a happy ending.
CHAPTER 24
Zoey Durand
He broke into my apartment. Ashton is claiming I gave him a key, but I moved into a different apartment after we broke-up. With new keys, new locks.
And who takes photos of themselves rifling through their friend’s shit while the friend is away? He texted me pictures where he’s throwing my stuff onto my bed. Asking if I need anything. If I forgot anything.
I told him to stop contacting me. I’m fine. I have everything I need. Get out of my apartment.
I’m ignoring him. Like if I don’t look at my phone, maybe Chicago doesn’t even exist at all.
Clouds descend, an angrier storm brewing in the distance. I thought that the hardest thing would be that stupid book event I had to stumble through, but it’s been three weeks since that day. And October fortified my cover story with a more believable one, so I’m no longer worried Effie Brambilla will book a flight to New York just to sniff out our lie.
My true concern doesn’t even lie with Chicago drama.
It lies with my brother.
Not the one I’m helping, but the older, grouchier one.
Brian busies himself around The Drunk Pelican, mostly by bringing in outdoor furniture. Preparing for the nightmare storm. Skies already resemble nighttime and it’s only the early evening. Winds howl and thrash against the windowpanes.
October is helping Fisherman’s Wharf lock down for the bad weather, and I’m still not invited into the “enemy” establishment.
With only Parry here, Brian hasn’t bunt-kicked me out of the bar. He needs the extra hands, and I’ve been tasked with window duty. Which quickly turned to “bucket” duty when the light rain started.
I set a second bucket on the bar, a steady drip of water trickling from the ceiling.
Brian kicks the door closed and drops two large patio umbrellas on the ground. “That should be the last of it.” His eyes lock on mine. “This would be the best time for you to get out of town, Zoey.”
I’m currently standing on the bar, squinting at the hole in the ceiling and wondering if I can fix it. That plan suddenly fizzles in my head.
“I’m not finished yet.”
“The bar looks great.”
I gape. “Not with the bar—”
“You still haven’t been cursed,” Brian cuts me off. “You don’t want to be here for the storm.”
No, he doesn’t want me here for it.
There’s a difference.
He saunters towards the windows to double-check my work. Great. He doesn’t even trust me to do a decent job.
Pots clank in the kitchen. Parry is storing all the food. The Pelican will be closed for the rest of the night.
“I’m not leaving yet. It might take another week—”
“That’s what you said three weeks ago,” he cuts me off again and then adds a glare. “I understand you want to help Colt; I do, but at what cost?”
I can’t believe Parry told him why I’m here. But he did after Brian’s concern kept growing day after day I stuck around. Parry caved a couple days ago. Then again, I think Parry thought it’d ease Brian’s worry. It just doubled his irritation.
“We’re getting close,” I lie.
It’s been almost a month, and the only solid lead we’ve found is from the first week when Parry and I concluded that Augustine Anders can’t be a local. We still think the town council is acting suspicious, but there is still zero proof.
Truth be told, I’m shit at this whole Nancy Drew stuff. I don’t think I can solve a mystery if the culprit pulled down his pants in front of me. But I’m trying.
I’m trying. I have to.
Brian stares at me like he can see through the lie, but he surprisingly doesn’t call me on it. Instead, he says, “Colt will be just as messed up if you do figure this all out and get cursed in the process.”
I honestly didn’t consider that.
“He’ll be fine.”
Brian huffs, then shakes his head. “That kid loves you.”
Kid. As though Colt is so young. He’s almost thirty, but I guess to Brian, we’re all just little. I still can’t believe he’s almost forty.
Time…
How much more am I going to lose when I leave again?
Forever.
A cold gust of wind knocks open a window. “Fuck,” Brian curses. I jump off the bar and help him latch it shut.
“Thanks,” he mutters.
I step back from the window, closer to him now. Tension between us isn’t the fun kind. It feels awfully strained. Like I screwed up our brother-sister relationship beyond repair just by leaving Mistpoint. Even being here hasn’t helped much. I don’t like being at odds with Brian.
“I know that I’m testing fate,” I admit. “And I…financially can’t be here for more than a couple more days, so you can rest easy. Kelly is gouging me at the Harbor Inn.” I’ve stayed way longer than I intended at the B&B. My savings have been depleted and without a job here, I’ll be meeting some credit card debt when I’m back in Chicago.
