“I meant what I said. I’ll help you.”
“I know.” I notice he’s threaded his fingers through mine. And it feels surprisingly natural.
“Make sure you and Avery charge your amethyst.”
“That’s the plan.” I look down at our linked hands and ask, “You’re not going to disappear for a whole week again, are you?”
He smiles. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t.”
“Then I won’t.”
I squeeze his hand before I slip free and climb out of the car.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When I get backto my room, Liv isn’t there. With a sigh, I strip off my coat and check my phone. Zander texted me twice while I was out there in the wilderness. Everyone’s going to Henry’s, the pool bar, for beer and wings tonight. I suppose I’ll be going too. It’s back to reality for me, and I although I want to be comforted by this, I’m not. The contrast is too stark. Maybe after a few beers I’ll feel better. Wings, on the other hand? I’ve never been a fan. Too much mess for too little reward.
While the setting sun turns the clouds yellow and pink, I try to do some reading for sociology, but my thoughts won’t stop wandering to the ghost town and the logging accident. No wonder the grief in the graveyard was so potent. I stare absently out the window, contemplating all the scenarios: young wives suddenly becoming widows, parents mourning their sons, children crying for their fathers.
Ugh. Why do I do this to myself?
I turn back to my reading, but after only a minute, the words begin to blur. I’m tempted to nap, but when I close my eyes, I feel the mill-workers all over again—their panic, desperation, andhorror—all those emotions, all that energy, trapped in time. How long were they buried under those logs before they died?
And how many hundreds, or even thousands, of people have walked through that same space where the deaths occurred and felt nothing but the sun on their faces and the ground under their feet? So many people. But not me.
I lift my necklace off my chest and circle the pendant with my thumb.
I won’t let anything happen to you.
Leo may’ve defied the gods with that promise, but I feel like he kept it as best he could. Yes, I had the worst ‘psychic’ experience of my life, but he was there for me. Heunderstood.And that made me feel safer than any white knight with a sword ever could.
It’s weird. In a few short weeks, I’ve gotten as close to him as I am to Liv and Zander. How did that happen? I hardly know anything about him, the surface details anyway. Is it messed up when you know a person’s opinions onThe Scarlet Letterbut not their exact age? I don’t know if Leo’s parents are married or if he has any siblings. I don’t know what kind of music he likes, or why he doesn’t know any acronyms. Aren’t those the important things?
For the next hour I play ping-pong with my thoughts. Leo. Sociology. Leo. Mill workers. Sociology. Hugging trees. Leo.
Just before dinnertime, Liv breezes through the door. “Hey,” she says, tossing her heavy backpack onto her bed. “Where’ve you been? I got back this morning and you were gone.”
“I was communing with nature.”
“All day?”
“Pretty much.”
“Where?” She’s smiling, but there’s a suspicious edge to her voice.
Recalling the vow I made to myself to keep her at the center of my life, I fess up and tell her where I went, and with whom.
“You were with that Leo guy? Seriously? Zander is gonna lose his shit.”
“There’s nothing to lose his shit over. Leo and I are just friends.”
“Yeah, but everyone says he had his hands all over you.”
I assume she’s referring to the incident at the party that set Zander off. I also assume that by “everyone,” she means Braden.
“He didn’t,” I say. Leo’s hands were on my waist, not all over me. “We were just talking.”
