I stared. “Why is she here?”
“She picks locks,” Sienna said wearily. “She’s very accomplished.”
Barcode nosed my pocket. I stepped back. She nosed harder.
“She thinks you have apples,” Sienna explained.
“I don’t.”
“She disagrees.” Sienna shrugged. “Did you know her name is actually Macy?”
I scowled. “Then why the heck do you all call her Barcode?”
“My brothers.”
Barcode shoved her head against my hip, nearly knocking me into a stack of empty flower pots.
Sienna grabbed my arm, and suddenly we were standing close. Her breath mingled with mine, her palm warm on my wrist, her eyes wide and startled.
We didn’t move.
Barcode nudged her pointedly, as if to say, "Excuse me for interrupting your romantic crisis, but my apple schedule waits for no one."
She stumbled forward when the zebra’s head bumped her shoulder.
I caught her waist without thinking.
Her hands landed on my chest.
And just like that, the tension between us snapped back into place like an electrified line.
“Sienna,” I whispered.
Her lips parted. “Carson…”
Barcode let out a loud snort.
We both jumped.
She stepped back quickly, cheeks flushed. “Right. Okay. I’m going to get her back to her enclosure before she starts eating our water filters.”
“I’ll… check the fuel cells,” I said, trying to sound composed.
She tugged lightly on Barcode’s lead rope—where had that even come from?—and somehow managed to coax her forward. She followed her obediently, tail swishing, head high, as though escorting royalty.
Before Sienna rounded the corner, she glanced back at me.
Just a brief, bright flicker of something hopeful.
And I realized as she disappeared with the zebra…
I wasn’t scared of Easter dinner.
I wasn’t scared of the Harpers.
I wasn’t scared of being included.
I was scared because being around Sienna felt like remembering what I’d lost.
