“Uh, yeah.”
“Has it gotten any worse?”
“What? The reaction?”
“Yeah. I know if you’re allergic to something, every time you’re exposed it can worsen your reaction.”
“Oh,” I paused to consider the question. “Um, I dunno. I haven’t fully cried in a couple of years. I usually use the drops as a precaution if my eyes ever get watery at all and it seems to work at preventing any major reactions.”
“What about your eyesight? You said that the scar tissue builds up and affects your vision.”
“I don’t know. I only ever got my eyes tested for the first time in like a decade a few years back.”
“So, you got glasses?”
I nodded, pulling out the glasses case from my bag. “Yeah. I should probably wear them more, but I just hate the feel of them on face. It gives me a headache. But they wouldn’t give me my license without getting glasses. I couldn’t pass their little eye test they make you do at the DMV. I could never get used to them and I can see fine up close. It’s just, like, street signs and stuff I can’t really read. But, I mean, I just memorize where I need to go and it’s not really a problem.”
Enoch raised a brow like I was crazy. “Remind me to watch out for you on the road.”
I shoved him and he laughed.
Enoch moved to put the bottle back on the counter but then froze, jerking it back to his face.
“Shiloh,” he drawled, peering up at me from under his lashes. “These expired over a year ago.”
I shrugged, shoving the bottle into my bag. “So? What’re they gonna do, fuck up my eyes? A little too late for that.”
Enoch clicked his tongue, folding his arms across his chest. “Can you not get another prescription?”
I finished packing my bag and looked over at him.
“I’m sure I could if I had health insurance to help pay for a visit with an ophthalmologist.”
“How did you get these then?”
“WITSEC covered it. They had prescribed them to me when I—when I moved to Oklahoma.”
Enoch hummed, nodding and straightening up from his position against the counter.
“Ready?”
I nodded and he smiled, giving me a quick peck on the cheek that made my heart stutter.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Sixteen
July 4, Saturday
Enoch
I watched Shiloh drive away in her little sedan and got into my car with every intention of driving home. But as I sat down and my keys fell into my lap, I stared blankly at the trees lining the road in front of my car. As the events of the last twenty-four-plus hours played on a reel in my mind, an inexplicable urge to laugh had me chuckling into the silence of my vehicle.
Shiloh’s attempt to break things off.
Finding her walking alone on the road and the sinking feeling that she was trying to leave for good.
Jae’s confession of my past.
