“I’m a coder too. We think in zeros and ones. Logic and concrete knowledge. It’s hard to square that with things likemeant to be.”
I grab an eggroll and take a bite, thinking over what he said. “I don’t always believe things are meant to be. Preordained and all that. Sometimes really shitty things happen, and there’s no reason for them. It’s just bad luck and bad timing. But I think, sometimes, things happen we can’t explain. Your mom could have sent any one of your brothers to the attic on Christmas, but she asked you. There are tons of flights a day from San Francisco to Boston, but we ended up on the same one, and we both ended up here. Little things that show us not everything is random. That there’s something else at work, something inexplicable. I don’t think I have to square that with having a career that relies on logic. Two things can be true.”
Elliot’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “You’re pretty smart, you know.”
I nod, taking another bite of my egg roll. Chinese food really is the superior takeout. “No doubt about it, my friend. So, want to tell me what you’ve found out so far?”
He digs into his container of sesame chicken before answering. “The app has been really helpful. Genesis, I mean,” he says, and I feel a little glow of pride. “Since it connects to the databases at libraries all over the world, I’ve been able to pull census records from England in the first two decades of the nineteen hundreds as well as military service records since the postcards allude to Henry being a soldier. It’s a lot of data, and I haven’t been through it yet, but it feels like a start.”
I nod, taking another sip of my Diet Pepsi. “It’s not just a start; it’s an excellent start. So, what do you say, El?” I ask, enjoying the way his eyes flare every time I use his nickname. “Want to solve a mystery?”
He grins at me just as someone gives a perfunctory knock on the door, pushing it open at the same time. The smile disappears from Elliot’s face so fast that I turn automatically and my stomach twists when I see Dean Miller standing there, his gaze bouncing between Elliot and me and lunch laid out on the desk.
“Lunch for two,” he says, the suspicious note in his voice unmistakable. “Isn’t this cozy?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELLIOT
“Come on, El, move your ass,” Noah says as he jogs past me, slapping my shoulder in the process.
“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be the runner?” Jordan smirks as he passes me on my other side, catching up with Noah, who’s now running a few paces ahead as we cross the Harvard bridge to head into Cambridge.
“You okay?” Cooper asks quietly, slowing his pace to meet mine. I glance over at him before facing forward again, and I can see his concerned eyes steady on me.
“I’m fine,” I say, ducking my head a little as the cold wind blows off the Charles River. “Just didn’t sleep well last night. I’m dragging today.”
It’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. The full truth is that I didn’t sleep well because I was thinking about Amelia and our run in with the dean. The way she’s gone quiet on me for more than a week. She’s been sending me updates on her research into Henry and Clara, and she’s been in class, but shekeeps her eyes off mine, fixing her gaze on the whiteboard or on her notes. My texts to her have gone mostly unanswered.
This morning, I woke up feeling the darkness around the edges, the depression hovering there, just waiting to sink its grip into my brain. Running is my happy place. My brothers are my home. Neither of those things is enough today. I want to crawl out of my skin, even as my body stays in motion.
“You can always talk to me. You know that, right?”
I turn and look at Cooper, doing my best to smile. “Yeah, Coop, I know.”
Cooper studies me for a second before calling out to Noah and Jordan. “Hey guys, we’re cutting it off at five miles. It’s too fucking cold for the full eight, and if I don’t get caffeine and breakfast in the next ten minutes, I’m rioting.”
I breathe a little sigh of relief as I pick up my pace, an end to this run in sight. Even though the idea of sitting around a table with my brothers is not the most appealing way to spend the next hour, it’s one step closer to going home to be with my dog and my plants so I can go dark.
Jordan turns and jogs backwards, the smirk back on his face. “Joke’s on you because I was always stopping at five. I already told Jo Jo to meet us at the diner.”
“Lazy ass,” Noah says, backhanding Jordan across the stomach when he turns back around.
Jordan shrugs, never breaking his pace as Cooper and I catch up so we’re all running in a row. “It really is fucking cold, and I’m starving, and I want to see my girl. Wins all around.”
“You know you and Jo live together, right? Didn’t you see her, like, right before we left?” Cooper asks, confusion on his face.
Jordan gives him a look full of pity. “Listen, baby brother, I know you’re all married to your job and everything right now, but one day you’ll meet a girl, and she’ll knock your wholeworld off balance and right it at the same time, and then you’ll understand. I could have my eyes on Jo every minute of every day for the rest of my life, and it would still never be enough.”
My stomach twists a little at Jordan’s words and at the naked love on his face when he talks about Jo. I’m not proud of the jealousy that lodges in my chest because Jordan went through hell when he lost Allie, and I would never wish anything but happiness and all that love for him.
I just want it for myself too, and after the last ten days of near radio silence from Amelia, it feels farther away than ever.
Ten minutes later, we’re pushing through the heavy glass doors of the Cambridge diner we’ve been coming to since we were kids. The one I brought Amelia to on the first day of school. My brain flashes with images of that day—of her smiling at me from across the table and the flush that crept over her face when I hooked my foot around hers.
I am down so, so bad, and I can’t even bring myself to be mad about it. Except the part where I can’t kiss her and call her mine. I hate that part very, very much. My melancholy seems to settle in a little deeper, weighing down my shoulders.
The bell on the door jingles as my brothers and I approach the hostess stand, and I turn more out of reflex than curiosity. But I’m glad I did because standing there, wearing a white hat with a pompom on it, cheeks pink from the cold, is Amelia. It’s like I conjured her just through the sheer force of my thoughts alone.
