“Not with me. Not from the top of the lighthouse.”
She has me there, but still. I grasp for some fresh excuse, but something makes me keep my mouth shut.
She smiles a slow smile—?she knows she’s got me.
This is ridiculous, I say to myself. But I need a little ridiculous right now. A leap off a balcony, of sorts.
I get off the bed, and her posture snaps straight, ready for action.
“Hold your wad,” I say, holding up both hands. “I’m not even sure how to get up there.”
“There’s a door on the outside,” Eva says. “Locked. But surely the current lighthouse keeper has a key.”
“I’m not about to go digging through my mother’s boyfriend’s trousers.”
She frowns but moves toward my door. “Let’s just look around.”
I hold up a finger and listen for a few seconds, straining my ears for music or low murmurs or creaking floorboards. Nothing.
“Fine. But when I open this door, stay quiet.”
She mimes zipping her lips.
“You’re not one of those elephant walkers, are you? These are old floors.”
“I assure you,” she says after a beat of silence, her voice suddenly dreamlike, “I’m like a fairy on my feet.”
I run my eyes down her long legs. She even stands gracefully. “Just be quiet.”
Eva hovers close to my back as I ease the door open. It squeaks and I stop, then try to open it an inch at a time.
“It’ll make less noise if you do it quick,” she whispers, and her breath tickles my neck.
“Lot of practice at this?”
“You could say that,” she says. “At least lately.”
I don’t even want to know what that means, but I’m starting to suspect that traipsing around the cape at night might be a regular occurrence for this girl since she got here. Stays in her room mostly my ass, Luca. Emmy would flip if she knew.
But I don’t say any of this. Instead, I yank the door wider. It doesn’t make a sound. We sneak down the hall, and I barely take a breath until we’re past Jay’s room and safely into the living space. Moonlight streams in through the wide windows, silver streaks through the blue-dark.
“It’s so amazing that you get to live here,” Eva says, stopping to stare out the window.
“Yeah, it’s a freaking miracle.” I tiptoe toward the kitchen. Mom and Pete’s room is around the corner, but I still don’t hear anything, so I assume they’re asleep. A light over the stove glows just brightly enough that I can look around.
“Did you find any keys?” Eva asks, coming up behind me so quietly I nearly yelp.
“Does it look like I found any keys?” I hold up my empty hands.
“Um, prickly.”
“Um, intruder.” But I’m smiling. She moves along, her fingertips on a delicate search through the moonlight.
“Here,” she says, pointing to the wall near the side door, and I walk over. Three sets of keys dangle from grungy brass hooks. One is my mom’s, adorned with a tiny red plastic flip-flop and packed with at least six different keys that have absolutely no current purpose, keys to old apartments and condos that she never gave back to the landlord. The other two I don’t recognize, but one has a clunky Ford truck key, so I assume those are Pete’s. The last set has only two keys and they look old. Not skeleton-key old. Just aged and well-worn.
I grab them off the hook and flip the deadbolt open on the door.
“Let’s go.”
