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By the timeKiersten makes it over, Aunt Livi has wrapped up her book club. The two of them enter the apartment together. I suspect they may have been conversing outside, judging by the minute-long gap between the thumping on the stairs and them actually opening the door. The likely theme: Has Gemma slid through time again, and do we need to seek out some professional help?
Kierst plops a new pint of mint chip on the counter. They both scoop their bowls before settling into their usual spots, Aunt Livi in her armchair, Kiersten on the fainting couch. I give them a few bites of untainted chocolate-mint joy before launching into the recap of my potentially paranormal encounter downstairs. When I’m done, I look up. Aunt Livi looks stressed, with deep lines etching her forehead. Kiersten looks like there’s a sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue, waiting patiently for its turn.
“What do you think?” I ask Aunt Livi specifically.
She exchanges a look with Kiersten before drawing a deep breath. “It sounds like you were speaking with Miranda. She’s new to our book club but very well read when it comes to historicals.”
I love my aunt and how she judges a person’s credibility by their reading tastes.
“Does she seem to know what she’s talking about? Should I be worried about causing a catastrophic event here?”
Aunt Livi thinks for a beat. “I think if the universe were on the verge of imploding, we’d probably get a sign or two first. That’s usually how these things work, I think.”
She glances down at her tea, and her worry lines deepen.
“What?” An uncomfortable feeling settles in my stomach. “Do you see a message in your tea leaves?”
She reaches into her cup and pulls something out. “Hmm…looks like a Cool Ranch Dorito. Wonder how that happened.”
Kiersten chokes on her mint chip. Several coughs and a firm slap on the back from me later, she recovers enough to speak. “I think you’re stressing about nothing, Gems. No offense to you, Aunt Livi, but your book club gals can be a little eccentric, not to mention that more often than not, they are hiding whiskey in their teacups.”
Aunt Livi shrugs. “I take no offense to either of those things.”
Kiersten turns to me. “I think you’re freaking out because you’ve got some big things happening in your life, and you’re worried you’re going to lose them. I hate to say it, but that’s a peak Gemma move.”
She’s not wrong. Even though I hate to hear it.
“But weren’t you the sister who only a few days ago was telling me I needed to slow down and not make any rash decisions? I distinctly remember you telling me that I should think about the consequences of my actions.”
Kiersten flops her feet to the floor and pushes herself into a seated position with a grunt. “That was me getting all big sister on you. I wanted to make sure you were giving yourself time to think. Make sure that a relationship with Dax is what you want. I have never, this entire time, thought you were seriously going to alter our entire existence. I love ya, Gems, but you’re not that important. Free will and all.”
Her words make sense to my rational brain. My stomach, however, feels like I swallowed a brick.
“You’re absolutely sure I’m not screwing up reality? Like a butterfly effect thing?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sure. It’s fine. Look, I’m happy. You’re happy. Dax—judging purely based on all the sex you’ve been having lately—is probably very happy. Aunt Livi,” she calls to my aunt, who looks up.
“Yes?”
“Are you thriving?”
“Oh, I’m doing great over here, girls.”
Kiersten holds up her arms as if she’s just presented irrefutable proof. “See, we’re all great. The universe is just fine. Stop stressing about it. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Kiersten walks to the kitchen. In her opinion, the argument is over. Aunt Livi buries herself in a book, but every once in a while, I catch her staring at me with narrowed eyes. There’s also a growing feeling of unease in my gut. It churns, and it burns. It could be heartburn or possibly guilt. Or maybe it’s just Kiersten’s words still lingering in my thoughts because it’s universal knowledge that the moment you sayNothing’s going to happen,something happens. And it’s not good. Call it Murphy’s Law, or karma, or getting smug about the fact that your life feels perfect. I suspect my gut pain is me waiting for the other shoe to drop.
At 11:03, just as I’m getting ready to leave Aunt Livi’s, my phone rings. It’s a text from Brandon.
The other shoe drops. A custom Nike.
Dax has had an accident.
Chapter 23
I break outin a cool sweat as I imagine a car wreck or Dax getting hit by a bus or sucked under the Zamboni. There’s enough adrenaline in my veins that I could run halfway to his place, or the hospital, or, god forbid, the accident site if this text is immediate. So when the three dots appear, signaling that Brandon is writing more, I hold my breath. It takes him so goddamn long to write that I almost have an accident of my own.
He laughed too hard while eating a potato wedge. Got one lodged in his windpipe. Dougie had to do the Heimlich, and Dax thinks he’s cracked one of his ribs. He’s getting an x-ray at urgent care but otherwise good.
