No.
No.
Thisisn’t about me.
He doesn’t actually care about me.
“Don’t you have a day job?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
Yep.
It’s becoming more and more clear why he agreed to the fake engagement.
It’s because he thinks I have information he can use for his own purposes.
Honestly, that makes him the best fake groom for me.
So very fitting.
And I’m going to throttle him before our fake wedding is over.
8
Davis
It’s beena while since I’ve wanted to crawl out of my own skin.
About since Bro Code broke up, matter of fact.
But today, I can’t sit still.
I could go hunt for the treasure, but I don’t know where it fuckingis. I need hands on the journal to see how the pages fit together, to fold them where they’ve been folded before, to inspect the binding and see if there’s anything hidden in the covers.
But after Saturday’s break-in, with me present for it, I can’t go talk to Pop Rock again about anything having to do with the treasure without him accusing me of trying to steal things.
So I’m stuck.
Worthless.
Useless.
And going fucking nuts.
Itdoesfeel like Denver.
Like I’m on the cusp of a new life that I’m not ready for, but my old life doesn’t fit me anymore and I can’t bend it and snap it back into place the way I want to.
Working out doesn’t help.
Meditating doesn’t help.
Complex logic puzzles don’t help.
Reviewing all the pictures Sloane took of the journal doesn’t help.
Keeping up over text with the upgrades to the Thorny Rock Museum’s security system doesn’t help.
