I turn off the phone, then twist and turn in bed, half asleep and half awake, but equally distraught in each state. Thomas is going to get engaged to Sofia Leigh, and next year will be hell. Everyone at school will avoid me, and I’ll be politely pushed out at the year’s end.
My dreams when I fall asleep are not happy ones.
I’m at Kelsey’s wedding, and Elijah is there with an actress who looks like Sofia Leigh.
Then I’m walking across campus, fall leaves snapping underfoot as I make my way to the lab, and no one’s meeting my eye. Sean is with them and his shoulder is bleeding. I’m relieved that he hasn’t seen me, but when I turn to double check, he’s gone, and a tiny line of flickering orange catches my eye instead.
Fire.
It chases its way across the grass, reminding me of those cartoons where the flame is leading to a stick of dynamite, meant to take down a meddlesome mouse or a wily coyote. It’s a yard back in St. Samuels, and it’s thrilling until the porch stairs light up. There’s a Halloween display...pumpkins and hay bales. When the fire hits those, it’s all over. It’s burning the roof and spreading through the town, and it’s so hot that it’s almost unbearable, that my skin burns, and just as I think I should run to the ocean, I realize the Cabots’ house is on fire too.
And I threw the match.
I wake with a gasp, my heart hammering. I’ve sweated through my pajamas, but within seconds, I’m shivering. I strip them off, then curl under the blankets in fetal position, promising all sorts of things to myself while I wait to recover.
It didn’t happen like that. No one was hurt. I didn’t know.
Jesus.
This breakup with Thomas has upended any sense of security I had. And picturing him with Sofia Leigh only makes the terror worse. I want to wake Elijah, but obviously I can’t. It’s not his job to comfort me, and he wouldn’t understand why the dream is upsetting. I put on dry clothes, grab my blanket and pillow, and curl up on the couch. I can just barely make out the sound of his even breaths on the other side of the door, and it’s enough. Eventually, I fall asleep.
When I wake, it’s light out but still too fucking early. Elijah stands over the couch with a brow raised. I growl at him as I pull the blanket over my head.
“Oh, I’m sorry, princess,” he says with a laugh. “I assumed the one king-sized bed you had was sufficient. Apparently not. Why are you on the couch?”
I’m not about to tell him that I was here to be closer to him. He’s arrogant enough as it is. His smile would be extra lopsided for weeks to come. “I had a bad dream.”
He frowns. “That must have been quite the bad dream.”
I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything, but even now it feels like information I’m not meant to share, and maybe it isn’t. What’s the statute of limitations on a felony you committed when you were eight? What about the felonies that came after that—at fourteen, at twenty-four? “I’ve had it since I was a kid, ever since the Tuckers’ house burned down. I dream that it spread and the whole town was on fire.”Though it wasn’t the whole town I cared about. It was you. You and your mom and your sister.
His eyes darken, as if he suspects. And maybe he does. People have suggested my brothers were responsible for that fire, and they mostly were. They showed me how to light the match, they said the fire would die out fast and that’s how we’d get back at Jason Tucker for talking shit about us.Just a little scare, they said. And, of course, they ran. They were completely out of sight by the time the fire hit the hay bales, not even bothering to suggest that I should run too.
I’d have been caught on ten doorbell cameras if it had happened a few years later.
I need a subject change, and fast, before I start giving shit away.
“So...Siesta Key tonight, right?” I ask.
He nods. “I got us another rental.”
“I don’t suppose you got your grandmother adifferentrental.”
He grins. “It’ll be hard for you to provide medical assistance if you’re not even in the same house.”
“Right,” I reply. “That’swhat would make it hard—not my utter ambivalence. And I should point out that she lives on her own.”
“Right now she’s not my responsibility,” he argues. “And she has a live-in housekeeper, so she’s not entirely independent.”
I sigh as I climb to my feet. “At least we’ll only be in the car together for six hours.”
He raises a brow. “You’ve never traveled with my grandmother before, apparently. It would be six hours without any stops, best case. This will not be the best case.”
I shower and load the dishwasher while he packs the car. He’s been drinking from the same glass since we arrived. I run my thumb around its lip before I place it in the top rack.
I try to tell myself this is normal behavior.
We’re soon on our way, with Betty and Mrs. Cabot in the back. “So, where should we have breakfast?” Betty asks.
