Page 15 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

“Are you okay?”

Am I? “Uh, sure.”

“Then why are you calling me after midnight?”

I sighed. “This is going to sound strange.”

In the background, blankets rustled and a bed creaked as Hazel shifted around. “Jackson, are you drunk?”

“No. I swear.” I wasn’t drunk, but I was really damn confused. “Do you know where Willa lives?”

“Willa Doon?”

“Yeah, Willa Doon. You work with her at the camp, don’t you?”

Hazel had retired from bartending but got bored after a week, so she volunteered at the Flathead Summer Camp. I was pretty sure that Willa worked there too.

“Yes, I work with her. She’s the director. Why do you need to know where she lives?”

Fuck. I should have gotten Willa’s address from Thea. She might have asked fewer questions. Though between her and Hazel, it was a crapshoot, since they both lived for giving me shit.

“I—I just . . .” How was I going to say this without sounding like I was drunk? There wasn’t a good way, so I just blurted it all out. “I had a dream about her a couple of weeks ago and I can’t get it out of my head. I want to talk to her.”

Hazel stayed silent. All I heard was the sound of my own boots hitting the sidewalk.

“Hazel?”

“You had a dream and now you want to talk to her. At this hour?”

“Oh, right.” It was dark. The curse of being a bartender. My day didn’t start until lunch and went well into the night. I often forgot that most people didn’t sleep until noon and go to bed after three. “Never mind.”

“Wait, Jackson.” Hazel stopped me before I hung up. “I don’t have her address off the top of my head, but she lives at her parents’ place. Above the garage.”

My feet skidded to a stop. How had I known she was going to say that?

“It’s that nice brown house by the school,” Hazel told me. “The one with the big cottonwood tree in the front yard and the strawberry patch off to one side. Do you know which one I’m talking about?”

“Yeah.” It was the house with the staircase on the backside of the garage. “Thanks. Sorry to wake you up.”

Hazel laughed, her hoarse chuckle loud in my ear. “I love you, Jackson Page. I’m glad you’ve finally clued in.”

Clued in? Before I could ask what she meant, she hung up.

I nearly called her back for an explanation, but I doubted she’d answer now that she knew I wasn’t in trouble. So I stuffed my phone back into my jeans and kept walking. It didn’t take me long to reach the playground, but before I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass, I paused.

Should I wait? Maybe it would be better to return tomorrow at a decent hour. Yeah, after another night of that damn dream.

I abandoned the cement for the lawn. There was no way I was waiting.

My long strides took me past the soccer goalposts and jungle gym. I slowed as I came toward the swing sets, studying them more close

ly as that déjà vu feeling crept back in. But I sloughed it off and kept walking, right up to the staircase.

When I reached the base, I stopped short of the first step. Okay, this was beyond weird. Had I been here before? This spot felt so familiar.

It had to be a part of my dream. This staircase was just something I’d fabricated, because there was no way I’d climbed these steps before. I took the first step, then the second and by the third, the weird feeling disappeared. I’d never been up here before, of that I was certain.

I would have remembered all these flowerpots.