AllFreeNovel
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I run my fingers over the burned linoleum. The scar from our first attempt at the spell.
It’s here. My car is here, but so is my basement. It’s almost as if I’ve melded my two lives together. Or am I in a third timeline? How many timelines are there?
Abandoning Aunt Livi’s, I cross the street, heading north down James, and when I hit the block where Kicks once stood, my heart bursts into a million happy pieces.
It’s still there.
Its shiny window sports all of Dax’s beautiful creations. I press my nose to the glass, and although the inside is dark and empty, the shelves are well stocked with inventory.
This is good. This is really good.
I knock on the door in case Dax is in the back office, but he doesn’t come out. Which makes sense. It’s still early, and it’s Sunday, right? Who the hell knows. All I care about is that I’ve done something right here.
But why the hell did I wake up in my basement apartment? Have I created some sort of weird hybrid world?
I stare around at the near-empty street, wondering what I should do next. If only I had my phone, I could call Dax, Kierst, or even Aunt Livi. They could tell me if I still have Dax. If I still have Wilde Beauty.
Wilde.
I practically run the block and a half.
My heart quickens when the painted white bricks come into view, but as I get close enough to see inside my window, I’m not prepared for what is inside.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
No shelves. No perfectly curated array of clean beauty products. Just empty space and a realtor’s sign statingproperty available for lease.
Wilde is gone.
It hurts. Even though it was my choice, and that choice was the right one, my soul aches at the sight of the sad, empty space. I stand for a moment and mourn the loss of my beautiful dream until I remember that reality is still wonky and that more important matters need my immediate attention.
Like finding Dax.
My feet keep moving. It’s as if they have a mind of their own this morning. And they carry me halfway into Brewski’s before I realize it. Coffee is always Dax’s morning priority before he does anything meaningful. My eyes skim the sitting area and those in line before determining that he isn’t here. I’m about to leave when I hear a voice call, “Grande oat milk latte, right?”
I turn and meet the eyes of my man-bunned barista.
“Snake,” I call loudly enough that his eyes widen, and he takes a step back.
“Uh, yeah.”
“It’s me, Gemma with aG.” I point at my chest as if it isn’t obvious whom I am speaking about.
“So no oat milk latte?”
“Yes. Absolutely yes. And I need you to answer a question for me.”
His eyebrows rise as he punches in my order without looking.
“Did we ever make out? On New Year’s Eve? In a garage, I think?”
He scratches his chin and stares up at the ceiling. “Not that I can remember, but anything is possible. Maybe we should make out now and see if it makes me remember anything.”
“No!” I shout with way too much force for someone who has yet to have coffee. “But thank you for clearing that up.”
I wait for my coffee. Once it’s in hand, I down half, then nurse what remains as I speed-walk back to my car.
