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The most important thing now is to figure out what’s going on with Dax and me. However, if I have created some sort of hybrid world, I should probably figure out if he knows who I am ahead of time. There’s no need for another shoehorn incident.
I hop into my car and drive to Kiersten’s house, praying she has my answers as I sprint up to her walkway and knock furiously on her front door.
It opens a few moments later, revealing Kiersten in her fluffy pink bathrobe.
“Oh, thank god.” I throw my non-coffee-holding arm around her neck and squeeze. She looks the same. She smells the same. She even pries my arm from her neck with her usual “For the love of god, what is wrong with you, woman?”
I push my way inside, my hands clutching my half-drunk coffee.
“No latte for me? Tell me why I’m letting you in at this ungodly hour without a caffeinated offering?”
“I love you, Kierst.” The words fall easily from my mouth. “You are amazing and wonderful and I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know and I’m going to make it all right, I swear.”
She holds my head between her hands and sniffs my breath. “Are you still wasted? I cut you off before midnight. You should have sobered up by now.”
“I was with you last night?”
She turns, heads toward her kitchen, grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it with water, and hands it to me.
“I’m surprised you’re up this early. I thought you’d spend the day in bed.”
I drink the water because hydration feels like a good idea.
“I need you to humor me. Why did I get drunk last night? What exactly happened?”
Kiersten rolls her eyes but takes my empty water glass, refills it, and hands it back to me. “You were all creeped out about your new place. You didn’t like the smell and didn’t want to spend the night alone, and so you came here and downed half a bottle of pinot. When you got into my tequila, I cut you off and sent you home in an Uber, which I paid for—you’re welcome, by the way—because you couldn’t find your phone. Trent found it this morning when your alarm went off, reminding you to go and water Dax’s plants.”
Dax! I know Dax. “Where is he?”
“Trent? He went swimming at the Y. Why?”
“Not Trent. Dax. Where is Dax?”
Kiersten thinks for a moment. It’s the longest, most agonizing five seconds of my life.
“The Magnet River? Or the Magawan River? It’s something like that. Up north somewhere. Why are you asking me this? You’re the one who toldmehe went camping with Dougie.”
“Why?” Dax hates camping. I once made him go glamping, and he lasted a night before he got sick of the bugs and the lumpy beds.
“Well, you told me that he was acting all weird, and then he told you he needed some time away to clear his head.”
“So we’re friends?”
Kiersten grabs my head between her palms and stares into my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m checking to see if you have a concussion.”
“Is that how you’re supposed to check for a concussion?”
Kiersten lets go of my head. “I have no idea. But your eyes look fine. What the hell is going on with you, Gemma?”
Where to even start.
“If I tell you, you won’t believe me for at least three and a half weeks, and even then, you’ll only be eighty percent on board.”
Kiersten’s eyes narrow, and I wonder if she’s debating taking on the mental effort to listen to my entire story. “Yeah, let’s save this story for another day. But at least promise me you’re okay? Physically. Emotionally. All of the above.”
