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It wouldn’t feel like cheating if I didn’t care about her.
Goddamn it.
It’s never going to stop, is it?
At the parking ramp, I retrieve my car, but I don’t head home. The address from that house party is still saved in my recent trips.There. Take me there.I’ll go question as many people as it takes. I’ll get that guy’s name. I’ll find out who he is, and I’ll take that information to Elise.
It shouldn’t be my problem, but this thing with Lydia and the weed guyisa loose end. If Jacob is any indication, people don’t get over those. Elise needs to know who’s doing this to her sister. Lydia needs someone to step in.
And if this initiation is going to kill me, I have to do this while I still can.
I should have gone into the house the night of the party and demanded answers then.
Better late than never.
6
ELISE
Pickingup Lydia from that party was absolutely the right thing to do. No arguments there. I don’t regret it.
That doesn’t mean there’s not a price to be paid.
By the time I get back to my apartment, it’s hours past when I’d normally open.
I know what Ishoulddo. I should go in through the back door and start baking. I have the dough for cinnamon rolls ready to go. I’m behind on orders. The correct choice is to put my head down and get to work. The correct choice is to be strong enough not to let the fear affect me.
Instead, I climb the stairs to my apartment, lock the door behind me, and pull the covers over my head.
Do I cry?
Definitely.
Disappointing to say the least.
I give myself the rest of the day to worry myself sick about Lydia and wonder how I can find the guy who took her to that party and process the shock of getting thrown out of my family’s house.
I’m not done doing the last one yet.
But my three-thirty alarm comes anyway. I head down to the bakery and make myself an obscene amount of espresso shots with an equally obscene amount of vanilla syrup and a little bit of milk.
I bake.
And bake.
And bake.
Then I flip the sign to OPEN.
Mr. Nelson is in at seven-fifteen, just like always. He flips the hood of his rain jacket back, scattering droplets on the ground. Rain continues to fall outside the store windows, making everything shine.
“Elise! Everything okay? I stopped by yesterday, but you were closed. I hope you took a vacation.”
He sticks his hands in his pockets, hovering by the cash register. Mr. Nelson’s brows are drawn together, and he has a tentative look about him. He probably thinks he’s prying. This morning, it makes me feel slightly better to know that someone would notice if I disappeared.
Not that I think I’m going to disappear. Not that I think my dad would actuallymurderme over this disagreement about the consortium and about Lydia.
I just know what he’s capable of. That’s all.
